More Facebook Philosophy

Dear Facebook Friends:

(Rot-row—here we go again)

“Dear FB Friends,”

I begin again.

I ‘use’ FB to flesh out new ideas for new posts.

Most never come to fruition and most of my FB posts no one ever reads.

Doesn’t matter.

I write them.

Mostly for me.

Writing is generally an exercise in futility (or vanity)

Or Both.

And yet my Facebook stream of consciousness posts often times provide fodder for some ‘real’ posts at Texantales.com

I appreciate (even though I rant and rail sometimes at Facebook for being stupid and sometimes censoring me and being stupid)

Did I say that already, “Stupid?” Mark Chuckle-Berg?

I do appreciate this platform that Facebook provides.

Provides for all of us to share our stories, however how trite and however inane (or in my case, ‘insane’) they may be.

We are privileged to be living in a world where we can talk to EVERYONE in the WORLD with a simple mouse click or a keystroke.

This is magical.

I am so happy to be some small part of this Community.

Thanks in advance for anyone who comments.

And shares your valued opinion.

This is called “Social Media.”

Let us all be social.

And generous.

And civil.

And polite.

And giving.

To those who post thoughtful stuff.

And to those who post not so thoughtful stuff.

We all have souls.

And feelings.

Be kind: Rewind

(Okay, esoteric reference to anyone who has ever spent too much of their paycheck at a Blockbuster’s Video store back-in-the-day)

Stage Four Zero Fucks Given Syndrome

I love becoming Sixty-Three.

I have reached that stage of life whereby I can say what-ever-the-fuck I want to say.

No Consequenes.

No Reprecussions.

No Nada.

(You got some ‘Nada?’—bring it!)

What the hell anyone gonna do to me that has not already been attempted?

I give zero fucks what anyone thinks of me.

This is so….

So…

So…

So Freeing.

I want for nothing.

I desire for nothing.

I need for nothing.

I am happy.

Content.

Saited.

I love who I am.

The rest of you be damned.

And take a one-way ticket to Hell.

And Board The Express Lane.

Put your foot on the gas.

A train possessing  brakes is just not exciting for me.

***********

Added value from a stupid post I posted on Facebook:

Fairly certain, fairly certain, Y’all are wondering what I am ‘into’ today.

“Take your good arm.”

(Or what is left-over of your mind.)

“And just wang it down.”

“Wanging” is good for the Soul. And good for the mind. It is Freedom.

“So, You Want To Be A Writer?”

(Vid Credit: Shea)

“Yes, I do!”

“I write; therefore I am”

–Bastardize quote from Rene Descartes.

Pounding out shit, day after day is sometimes difficult,

but when it ‘flows,’ it is fucking magical.

And worth all the agony.

I love it!

I love it when it ‘works.’

I despise myself when it doesn’t.

But I ‘sailor’ on.

One day at a time.

“Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am.” I say, “I do not think, that is why I exist.”

    –Taisen Deshimaru

Video Credit: EssentialDegnities

 

 

Texas is Hell on Women and Horses (And Alcoholics)

I am struggling.

Failing.

Flailing.

Just another dead fish.

Going with the flow.

Looking for distraction.

Abstract things to fill my mind.

And take me to some happier places.

Mostly Movies

But also music.

But the booze trumps all distractions.

And makes cowards of us all.

Such an evil mistress.

She gives and She takes.

(Mostly takes.)

Tries to take my life.

I will not go quietly into that good night.

No!

Not this Cowboy!

No!

I will fight the good fight.

I will WIN!

By The Grace of God!

(Funny that. Spoken by an Atheist)

(But Looks Good in Print.)

I will expand upon these Madness Thoughts  at some future date.

Please Stand by.

As an aside… and just to pass some time

In the interim:

“There’s a “Hallelujah!” on the lips of every dying man.”

“The Letter Said He Was Reported Dead.”

“Near the front lines he’d been found

A mine blew his jeep into a twisted heap

And I still hear the sound

Of the wheel that kept spinnin’ ’round.”

*****

For some bizarre reason, this song reminds me of my first wife, Janet.

I suppose it is because she was in the U.S. Army Reserve and used to drive Jeeps for a living.

Or something.

I Loved Her Dearly.

And I respected her (Even though, she was ‘Certifiable Nuts.’)

Did not matter:

I loved her.

Still do.

This post will make no sense whatsoever.

Don’t Care.

It is just for me.

And Jerry Jeff.

And Janet Sisco

The more I explore old songs… songs that make me FEEL, the more I  come to understand the depth of my depravity.

This is not necessarily a bad thing.

My life has become a ‘rolling wheel.”

Spinning out of control.

Almost a whirling dervish.

But not quite there yet…

“The unexamined life is not worth living.”

Some smart guy once said that.

So here is Me:

Examining.

Stay Tuned….

Random Memories from The Middle East: The Road to Sharm el Sheikh

Since I am an arrogant snob and a pompous ass,  I add this ‘added value’ for those who never get me.

(You’re welcome.)

Drive Through.

dervish is a Muslim of particular religious order. … To call something a whirling dervish is to say that object or person resembles a spinning top or is wild in its movement. An object can also just be a dervish. The term twirling dervish is technically correct, as a dervish could be described as twirling.

More “Added Value:”

In Keeping With TTales & Hieroglyphs Virtual Ink Green Earth Policy…

“His whole life was short, quick and straight.”

Who does this remind me of??

Oh my Gawd! How I do miss him!

The Flat-Bed Truck and The Pastel Sun-Dress

 

 

The Shit Show That Is My Life

There is a very rare and narrow window into my world.

Let us call it the ‘Sobriety Window.”

For lack of a term.

Sometimes, I attempt to thrust me out of that window.

Sometimes I just ignore it

Sometimes, I actually make it outside.

Into the ‘Real World.’

Then I panic!

Try to get back in.

Back into my “Comfort Zone.”

But the Window has already slammed shut behind me.

I cannot get back in.

But eventually, using an eat crow bar, I manage to  pry it open.

Through persververance and cunning.

And lying. (To Myself.)

Get back in.

And the whole shit–show begins anew.

Rinse and Repeat.

****

Well there’s a rain that ruins my alibi

I’m down to tellin’ you, my Red-eyed Mind

It’s not that sun bright path

That calls me from my home

It’s just that fine Backslider’s wine

My momma sings out in my memory

Oh Son, don’t wear no black-eyed shine

Fight for your rights

But, don’t just fight for right

And do not drink Backslider’s wine

But I took myself for a strong and loving soul

’til I found my self, face down on the bar room floor

Crying ‘My God!’ What have they done with me?

I cannot drink Backslider’s wine

No more