twylite

between the dying dusk and the drippings of dawn

i gleam and steam through fields of green

like trumpet horns and melodic songs

its a quiet storm and thunderstruck scene

 

 

 

 

 

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If I rant and rave here who’s going to read it? The safety in obscurity has never been appreciated more. I guess I haven’t done it lately because it feels petty. But I’m going in again so I guess I am.

First year teacher and I’m going grey. By the time this thing ends I’ll be going gray. The blog might as well be about that since ain’t no more gangsterism. Just old tales of how to be one.

Summer Philosophy

What need is there to cry over parts of life when the whole of it calls for tears….

Seneca
Peccatum Originale Original Sin Guilt Corrupt Human Spirit
St Augustin
Kings and philosophers shit and so do ladies
Montague
All of our unhappiness comes from our inability to sit alone in our room
Pascale
sub specie aeternitatis
Spinoza
Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing was ever made
Kant

Equilibrium

The world hit me like a Mack truck. I moved my feet like the earth was treadmill on level 1, but bloodied and concussed, pimp strolling with the cadence and confidence of a Marine’s sure shuffle. My brown Italian dress shoes were cut by the curb, bruised and looking like they’d been through a meat grinder.

If it weren’t for my scuffed and soiled threads, I’d likely look like I’d just stepped into the house of the Lord, but with the cracked designer frames dangling from my face as I marched and leaped across puddles and curbs, it was clear I was running away from God. not toward. I reached my hand to my neck, fingering the collar and the weight of its burden before the neutralizing acids of doubt froze my nerve to remove it.  How did I slide so far so fast?

The reasons made sense, for anyone else. But for a man like me, a man of god, well, I should’ve been more pious. Stoic. Godly.  My church, once the cornerstone of the community, flickered and faded into the winds behind me.  I doused the floors with gasoline like I hadn’t worked them twenty years before that night.  In one fell swoop I was a stranger to the church family and no longer a member of the congregation.  I’d only meant to talk with the Pastor but being scorned by a muthafucker just as dirty as I kind of made me go off and lose it.  I guess I shouldn’t have burned him, but I had to be sure he didn’t survive. I did’t mean to take his funeral. Shit, I hope no one else was in the building still.

By the time they found his body, I was holding my passport and luggage and when I didn’t show by the funeral and they began to suspect me, I was already living in Miami with a new name.

 

Do You Better

Do not internalize the industrial model. You are not one of the myriad interchangeable pieces, but a unique human being, and if you’ve got something to say, say it, and think well of yourself while you’re learning to say it better.

— David Mamet

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