harold_maude's journal

It's morning...

# 29781

This morning when the alarm went off it sounded, in my state of being jarred into the waking world, like something that was out of place.
I know that's the idea of an alarm in the morning when your lost deep in sleep, is to sound out of place.

Like a hand reaching down into some murky soup and searching and then finding what ever it's owner is looking for and then, jerk and pull.

...good morning....

Some mornings I wake up and it isn't until sometime a bit later that I'm aware of anything.
Some mornings I wake up and can remember bits of the dreams I had, and was wandering around in just a few moments earlier.

Yesterday I felt like the life was smothering me, and when it cleared, the thoughts that led to yesterday's journal ended up showing up.

I like mornings. When no one but me and my journal are awake.
I call it my think time. It sounds like as good a title as any other that I could give it.
I tend to give words to things of my own view.
And thoes words are only discriptive to me. They often arn't the words that the rest of the world gives thoes things.

That makes them my world words.
In music, when I'm wandering around looking for sounds and notes that work for me, and find things that hit just right, I call that a great soup base.
I know soup has nothing to do with music, but a good music line to work with is as satisfying as a bowl of hot soup.
Hence the name.

I think maybe lots and lots of people have their own world words, things that they understand and explain things in a way that makes sense to them.

Maybe that's how catch frases get started. Or words that end up being reconized by a lot of people to mean a certian thing.
I can think of several off hand.

Cool. Hot. Gay. Tanked. Bombed. Blown away. Burned. Toasted. Baked. Or how about something being "the shit"

All words that mean things. All words that have become references for certian reconizeable things. Like a signal.
Some where, at some time before thoes took on the meanings they have now, someone had thoes words as part of their world.
And they made senes to them.
A personal reference point. Other people heard them, and it made sense to them, and then it spread out.
And pretty soon alot of people everywhere began to use thoes words to define something or someone.

And then they ended up as a definition in the dictionary.
Part of the social language of a certian time that helped and helps define us as a very specific era of time.

The power of thought. Mix in the power of words.
And all of a sudden you have something new. Something that defines our social place and understanding and currantness.

Makes me wonder what other words ended up being common catch frases to other people 300 years ago.
Or a thousand years ago.

And somewhere, back in time, how did the people communicate then, so that other people knew what they were talking about.
And what of language it's self?

What was the first private word that became a common group word so that people could communicate with each other and feel like they were connected...

Was it ug? Or a certian way someone grunted at another person?
Where did the word fire come from? Or rain. Or love or hate.
Before dirt was refered to as dirt, what was it called. Way back before people learned that makeing pictures could be used to communicate things?
Where did the origins of language start?

just a few wandering threads in the wind that have given off the sent of another creative moment.
So many facets to think about. So many.
Wonder where my thoughts will take me tomorrow...

This post was edited by harold_maude on Dec 04, 2004.

The problem

72% | 2

# 29756

What is the difference between a person who finds contentment in what would seem a boring continous never changing life and a person who doesn't?

What is the difference between someone who is content no matter where they are and someone who constantly needs something to make them feel alive?

Why is it that when someone has an experience they think that the same experience everyone else should have too?

Every person is different.
How they view the world.
How they See the elephant under the rug, or the parrot.

There in lays the problem. What makes one content may not make another content.

There are commonalities between all humans.
Threads that join one to another.

That's where the road begins to splinter. Break of into chunks and do it's thing.

The flow of life is what takes us where it will. How we fight aginst it or go with it could possibly be the answer to the question of why some people seem content or so completely discontent that they are in a continual search mode. Or at least part of it.

I wrote yesterday about the importance of finding the purpose of life in relation to your life.

Why is it that some people know their purpose and then run hard and fast to get away from it?

Is it the same need to know the answers to what if?

The problem is....and the winner is....

Every morning I spend time wandering through this quiet space and thoughts come.
Because they are fresh in the day, not colored by my experiences of the day, they often make me think about things that are more than the currant events of this time of life, or work or what needs to be done.

Somedays I feel like life is crushing me. That there is no point to anything. After all the work of life. All the imitating our primal anscestors of gathering things instead of food, that it means nothing, because it's in a constant state of decay.
This morning was like that. Then I remembered lamentations.
There is a feel when you read it that comes down to this: I denyed myself nothing and discovered that everything was vanity...
That we are dust. That the greatest joy in life is to be content in the simple things. Being able to work, and eat because your labor has provied food.

Simplicity. A child's view of the world. Of life.

that's where I want to live every day. No matter where I go, no matter how exciting things are in the beginning, after a while the discontentment that is in me will surface.
The external is still the same, the problem is in me.

That's where the problem really lays.

Not in my job, how much money I have or don't have. Or anything else. Wether I'm thin or fat or short or tall or have all my teeth or don't.
Or how long it's been since my last vacation.
Thoes are momentary things. All of it. It's all passing.

The only thing I carry with me is what's inside me. If I'm not content, the place that needs adjusting is inside me.
If I am content, then the physical place has little baring on whether I wake up happy or not.

Simple. Difficult to change what I'm comfortable with.

Ahhhh...my comfort zone...am I comfortable in a state of discontent? Do I really and truely want to leave and disgard thoes things that make me miserable inside of me...or are thoes things so much a part of my comfort zone that leaving them would be like loosing a precious treasure to me?

Mirror mirror on the wall
who can complain the loudest of them all?

And the winner is....

The moment of a truth. A passage of a book, a single framed immage on the landscape, or someone's face. A line from a movie.
All touched by the human spirit. And the human spirit is connected to the universe.
I have come to belive that thoes moments of truths are keys.

Keys to many many things...and many times we don't understand completely, but they feel and hit us in a way that stays and there is a reason.

I believe it's because they are important to our life journey.
The questions that follow us our whole life until they come into crystal clairity.

Who are we, and why are we here. What is our purpose.
Without an understanding of purpose we wander like blind men trying to find our way out of a maze.

I believe we are ment to know our purpose. Unfortunately we are so bombarded by things ment to feed the appities of instant gratification that end up leaving us still empty inside.

If each of us truly understood who we are, many of the things that entice us with the lure of instant gratification would loose their grip. They would fall away like so much dead skin.

We would do things differently. And all the clutter and crap that we fill our lives with trying to satisfy something deeper inside of us would and could be bypassed.

The choices would be based then with focus and purpose, and many of the problems that stem from this aimless wandering we spend much of our lives in would vanish.

We could walk away from unnessary trappings. Simply because they would no longer hold anything for us.

Oh to find the path of my life.
To hear, with unstuffed ears
the song that the universe sings
and to know my place in it's choir.
To sing the song of life
to know completely
what my spirit knows
then I would be complete.
I could fly then.
Touch both earth and sky
and speak the language
that is byond time.

The harmonics of universal truth wait for us, for our vision and sight to stop shaking.
We are like a car careening out of control and nothing is clear.
We are desperately seeking, but don't reconize that we are.
We stumble about.
Making choices with out considering where they might lead.
We have no sense of the power of our words.
We have become numb. Desensitized. Aimless.

Watch a child at play. See how freely they play. How the simplest things bring them joy. Learn the ways of children before the greed of the world contaminates them.

Watch the devistation of war on the precious soul and spirit of a child and you will see the reflection of our own aimlessness.
You will see the the reflection of the effects of what our technology without the wisdom nessary to fully understand the technology has done.

Technology is neither bad nor good. Just as money is or any other object for that matter.
But without wisdom to bring balance to the power that comes with thoes things, the end result looks like a child holding a bazooka that's armed.

We are the most brilliant and creative inhabitants of this planet, and we are the most distructive as well.
We have the power to distroy the world we live on. And these things have not kept us from setting in place things that will lead to our own demise.

If we only truly understood, I think, no I'm very sure we would stop many of the things that we do.

The really sad part of all of this is that the children that are comming into the world are being taught that how we do things is the way things are suppose to be, inspite of the fact that each of us are ment to know who we are and what our purpose is.
The corporate world and world goverments don't want them or us to know. It keeps them in control and us in the state of slavery.

I hope with all my heart that there will be a revolution that stops the madness before we end up completely distroying both the planet we live on and our own existance.

The circus

?% | 1

# 29618

In the movie "the seven faces of dr. Low", there is a line that goes "the whole world is a circus if you know how to look at it"

It's profound. Simple and profound. Just like the line from "harold and maude, "oh how the world dearly loves a cage."

Truth and simplicty. It's so clear. It's the kind of clear that feels like a morning that's too cold.

I had a dream last night about a strange circus. There was a midget dressed as the cartoon chacter little lu lu, and a giant man who were preformers in this odd scene.

The truth about the giant just being a man who was short and fat wearing lots and lots of things to make him look huge.
And the midget's true ideanty was only revealed behind the scenes.
A man dressing in costume. The illusion was competed by the world outside the office was a twisted array of sights and sounds that would come just long enough so that the person watching would be completely convinced that what they were seeing was real.

Once a person stepped through the doors, it was very different. Like a huge office, any office of any corporate company anywhere.

The bottom line was to keep the people on the other side of the door completely convinced that they were at the most unusal circus that ever existed.

They came by the hundreds. Spent money like crazy and when it was done, they were hooked and had to keep comming back, even to the point where it was the most important thing in their lives.

I finally at last understood something. Very real. Most of the things we own are because of this circus. It's got us convinced that we need this or that and none of it that we spend our lives enslaved for has anything to do with the basic needs of our lives.

What circus am I refering to? The answer is very simple. The corporate world.
To them the human population is nothing more than wallets with legs.
That's all.
So they cater to our whims, and convince us that our lives are going to be less than if we don't buy what they are selling.
And if we don't, what happens to the majority of stuff that fills millions of shelves in millions of stores, it's distroyed.
Thrown into the trash and that in turn is taken to some landfill to further cause harm to enviorment...

When I realized that nothing I could do, or would do in my job would ever make any kind of difference, everything changed.
The stress stopped. Completely.

I stopped thinking about all the what if's, and all the ways that I could make what I do make a difference.
The bottom line is that the corporation is looking at me to see what kind of numbers I will produce for them. Translated how much money am I going to make them?

The very top level of the corporate world only cares about if they will get to buy that new what ever, or go on that trip, the one of a life time, like all thoes other trips of a life time, taken year after year.
The perks. The rewards. The very expensive toys. The rich food.
The money....

I realized I really don't matter. Only how much money I can make. That's all.

I'm a performer that is required to be on all the time. Never sad, or frustrated or anything else for that matter.
A replaceable object if I don't make them money.
I have only so much time to prove that I can make them money or they will replace me with another object until they find one that makes good money for them.

A sucess.

But today is a new day. You can't sit on how good you did yesterday. That doesn't matter. How well will you perform today?

A circus. With lots and lots of things that shine and sparkle so that you will just "have to have it"

Yes, you will cease to exist with out the "thing".
Yes, you will no longer be on the cutting edge of the lastest fad, whim, want, obsession.
You have to be there. In the front....where everyone can see how it's awesome being you....

The circus of the corporate world. Invading our lives one day, one hour, one minuet, one second at a time.

The really sad part is....we know it, but don't give a shit as long as our "need" is fed.

Two places

# 29580

Last night was a strange night. I learned how to cut and paste and went a bit crazy with it.
I ended up putting up two copies of "Uncle Bob and the pig" one here and one in the poetry section. Sorry about that.

Some of my older work tells a story about something. I like writing that way. It's like reading a really short book.
I've discovered that how I create definately has a shape to it, like an old tree down in some swamp next to the ocean.

I realize that it will never be to everyone's liking. And that's ok.
Everyone has their own creative voice and all the work that comes from the hands, wether in song or written word or visual surface, the collected work then becomes an immage of the person who created it.
It tells a very definate story.
When you think about it, it's almost a living library of human existance.

The only problem is, there are only so many days in a life and only so much time and so we can miss reading much in the living library.

I'm a little cracked tea cup
tangled in the roots
an old oak tree
feeds me

I can weave the threads
and so can you
of tea cups
and cookies
and other fancy things
of dreams
and wishes
and stars
so very far away.

You be the teapot
I'll be the cup
and we'll invite
the ladybug
to be the cookies
decorated with sugar
in so many different colors
and on a sunny afternoon
we'll all sit down
in the tangled roots
of the old oak tree
and lay a cloth
of linen and lace
and have a tea
all propper and fine
and upon our dreams
we'll feast and dine...

Some old poetry

# 29572

The following poems are ones that I wrote a few years ago...
Some of the ones I liked the best...
Just goes to show that I have a quirk rolling around in my head and every so often it shows up...:)

Uncle Bob and the pig...
I think he loved that pig
not in a normal way
that's why he showed up
to grab his ten minuets of fame
He loved that pig
better than his wife
loved that pig
in a way
that just isn't right
He took that pig everwhere
from morning until night
dressed that pig up
and held that pig tight
took her to the movies
though they'd never let him in
Mann he loved that pig
what a strange sight
Uncle Bob
with his dressed up pig
even had shoes made
for thoes oinker feet
but the pig was of a mind
to go with out.
The pig was spoiled
and once his wife complained
when Bob
tried to bring the pig into bed.
He bought the pig flowers
which the pig promptly ate
forgot his wife's birthday
but never missed a date
with that pig
he loved so much.
His wife got plenty tire
so late one summer night
she mixed something special
for the pig
Bob was happy
because he thought
"At last, she sees the pig
just like me
now we can be a happy family"
With a look in her eye
and a smile on her face
she gave that dish
to the waiting hungry pig
before the pig
finished the dish
she fell into the food
Bob screamed
his beloved pig
now dead on his kitchen floor
His wife laughed
she was free
the smelly old swine
was gone!
he flew into a rage
for he knew
what his wife had done.
Before he got very far
with kitchen knife in hand
there was pounding on the door
the cops had made it just in time
They took Bob away
screaming at his wife
telling them
she had murdered his beloved pig
But killing a pig isn't a crime
while killing your wife is....
she sits at the kitchen table
smiling quite content
thinking of all the wonderful things
she finally get to do
And as for that pig
well I'll just have the butcher come
and there will be plenty of meat....
now if your thinking this is so unfair, and justice up and went somewhere...
listen just a little more....
She fries the apples
covers them
smothers them
in sweet brown sugar
the smell of pork chops
fill the air
making it hard to wait
she set the table
just for one
but used the finest crystal
pulled her mothers best silver
and laid it out
proper and right
got her self a bottle of wine
this was her celebration dinner
Bob was gone
that crazy man
who loved a pig more than her
Her revenge would be sweet
only wish he could be here
to watch her eat.....
It smelled delicious
it smelled diving
she sipped the wine
as she sat down to dine
green beans with almonds
fried apples
baked potato
fresh hot rolls
and the best of all
a pork chop
a single pork chop.....
she smiles....
A few days later, when a stange and horrible odor began to filter into the neighbors apartments,
someone went to check on her.
The smell of decaying flesh
permeated the air
she was still at the table
her head on the plate....
the pork chop it seems
was laced with poision
somthing she didn't count on..
Bob smiles
a life for a life
his beloved pig
he'll miss her so
she was the best
He closes his eyes
now he can finally rest
as he wraps his arms
gently around the little pink body
of his new best friend.

The smelly part of the Sink

Open the doors
and take a look inside
it's a place
where even the bravest
often fear to tread.
It's taken for granted
often not thought of
until there is a leak
or somthing suddenly bursts.
Thoes pipes
as they are
the ones that hide so much
of things we easily disgard
Bacon grease
bits of food
that after years
breaks down the walls
and sometimes
eats right through.
It's the smelly part of the sink
the one that's hidden from view
the one with all that black stuff
that kills cock roaches dead.
It bends and wanders
over here and over there
it gurgles
and slurps
and snuzzles
and woozes
it does things
in the middle of the night
when your not awake
it is the highway
for things
that stay out of day light.
With in it's walls
the putrid soup cooks
and all that stuff
when the dishes are done
lays dead
and wet
silently decomposing.
Then one day
when your not aware
it eats through a seal
and black sludge and water
goes every where....
did you ever stop to wonder
if it's maybe alive
and wanting more space
so that it can grow
and thrive?
Does it sit there
plotting day after day
of how to break out
and take over your kitchen?
The smelly part of the sink
is why plummers
live in nice houses
take two week vactaions
while you only can take two days.
The smelly part of the sink
the place you never think about
is waiting even now
to spring a smelly leak...
get your self some drano
go out and get it now
before it's too late
and the slime
that lives there
just plotting and waiting
for it's chance to escape..
ohhh by the way
any body out there
got the name of a good plummer
the pipes in my sink
are leaking.....
"Your more beautiful than a cup full of bolts"
Bob's little bitty jeans
jumping up and down
all excited
going on a field trip
"Your more handsome than horse in it's prime"
Mables jeans
doing the rumba
dancing like Carmin Maranda
Primping the Big Egg
getting it ready
for a big visit
it's so hard living in an all girl world sometimes
"your lips are so plump!"
Bob's jeans are impatient now
wanting to go now
The Big Egg is waiting
hey this is better than going to the mall
"your eyes are like the maple syrup I had on my pancakes this morning"
Pant, pant
more dancing
among Mables jeans
(I know their called hormones, no, I haven't lost touch with reality,
what makes you think that?
Your always looking over my shoulder as I write my romatic stuff.
Go have some coffee or something and let Bob and Mable have their romantic encounter, their genes have been waiting all their lives to meet,
and yes I'm aware that once Bob's jeans er..hormones get him excited to the point of no return that all kinds of things will happen....
Now just go have some coffee, and let them have their romatic moment ok?
What's that?.....oh Bob, well he works down at the local hardwear store, lives with his mother and is dying to escape from home. He's been in love with Mable for years.
Mable works down at the Greasy Spoon and has a bee-hive hair do that is just plain scarry to look at, and ever since she saw Bob, her panties have been on fire for him.
Now would you just go and get some coffee, your breaking my concentration........thank you.....now where was I?....hmmmmmmm oh yes, Bob and Mable are about to have their long awaited romantic encounter and their little jeans are all so excited)
"your hotter than bacon just off the grill"
come here
Mables jeans
jumping all together
making her hair stick to her head
like flys stuck to fly paper
She's so beautiful to Bob
her hair spray
so intoxicating
He's so handsome to Mable
the over powering smell of Aqua Velva is driving her mad
Magic is in the air
you can smell it 8 feet away
Bob and Mable
finally consumating their burning passion
(Are you back again? Your inturpting Bob and Mable. Don't look, they have no clothes on, and yes I know that the cops could show up at any moment, and arrest them both for indecent exposere,....don't you have any romance in you any more? Don't you remember what we used to be like when we were teenagers? About a thousand years ago?
Oh yes I forgot, you left your romance in the closet along with thoes old shoes you love so much.....go have somemore coffee....I need romance and this is about as close as I'm gonna get these days....now where was I?
Ohhhhhhhh yes,)
(now I lost the moment.....Bob and Mayble will have to wait.....seems watching them has made me miss what we used to have.....about a thousand years ago.
I know I got wrinkly, but so did you....I still feel like a kid inside,
wish you did too.....)


The tale of Bob and Mable's jeans....part two
(This is for that person who keeps yelling at me to give them closure, because they've been sitting on the edge of their seat wondering what happened to Bob and Mable. Cliff hangers are so much fun.....
Let me see...where was I? Ohhhhh yes, Bob and Mable, about to consumate
their long awaited passion....are you comfortable?
Have your coffee in hand? Ok.
Now just sit back and listen as I do my best to give you a conclusion to this wonderful romantic tail (yes that was intentional)
"Oh Mable!!!!"
Bob's jeans
running rampent
on the loose
filling the dark tighenting tunnel
no turning back
"Bob, take me now!!!!"
Mable is out of control
her jeans
calling to Bob
the ancient siern's song
heard by a thousand lovers before
Bob's jeans
little race horses now
each tring to win
that once in a life time race.
Mable's jeans
quite mad now
drunk with excitment
all thoes fantasies
finally fulfilled
The dance begins
the hot mix of his and hers
swirling around
with in the dark chambers
of Mable's secret garden
The mix of outward sents
filling the air
Just as the explosion was at it's Zenith, they were startled from their raptous state by Bill, the cop, who saw Bob's 1953 Plymouth shaking in a violent rythem.
His knocking at the window makes Bob jump, and Mable too.
Franticly they try to scramble to cover themselves.
Terrified, Bob unrolls the window.....
"What cha all doing there Bob?"
Bob's jeans
still going a million miles and hour
as his heart is pounding
sweat dripping off his face
Mable's jeans
lost in erotic paradise
dancing the tango
grabbing Bob's jeans
at will.
"....ummmmmmm, uhhhhhh, ohhh hi Bill"
Bob's face
bright red
the frantic moment of passion
doused with the cold water
of getting caught
Mable's face
hidden behind Bob
as best as she can.
"You two should really try and find a motel. Less chance of intruption."
The warm knowing smile on Bill's face calms Bob and Mable.
"Next time we will"
Bob's voice relaxing again
his heart calming down
rolling up the window
Mable breathing easier
her heart calming down
Feeling like teenagers
getting caught
Looking at each other
bursting into laughter.
Love is in the air.
"You are so beautiful"
Bob looking into her eyes
she is so beautiful to him
the mix of hair spray
and her perfume
makes her that much more so to him
"You are more handsome than a half a side of beef"
He is the perfect man
as far as Mable is concerned......
Two years later, much to Bob's mothers protests, Bob and Mable tie the knot.
20 years later, they are still as much in love as they were when they first consumated their burning passion.....
5 years later, late one night Bob passed away in the arms of his beloved Mable, cancer took him from her.....
Mables jeans
still fragrent with Bob's memory
he was the only man
who could make her jeans
do the tango
all night long
and still want more.....
She misses him
She loves him
Still with all her heart.....
6 months after Bob died, Mable went to sleep,
it was the anniversary
of that very special night
so long ago
when Bob and Mable's jeans
first danced.

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