“There is an ocean of silence between us… and I am drowning in it.”
― Ranata Suzuki
Once there was a son on flight. He fought with his
insane father. He didn’t need boxing gloves. He said,
“I don’t need boxing gloves.”. The father couldn’t be
trusted by the son. The son couldn’t be trusted by the
son’s alter-ego. Nobody had any clue how it got to
this. They were living in a cave of darkness. Their
hearts were empty and joyless. The father’s
spirit had transcended the ordinary world and entered into
the netherworld. It was barren and cold. The robotic
body was left behind for the son to suffer….
Can you imagine a world without hope….I could then
perhaps settle down. Hope is a drug. I think I have
forgotten that too.
Why is it that I want to write and can’t, but I can think so
much. Maybe reason doesn’t sit well in one’s mind alone.
Makes me wonder if the thinker is insane. How
can one sip beer? I don’t understand that. If I want to
be reasonable I should write. My thoughts are too fast.
Remember the backside of Capitol Hill? Remember stuff.
I think I think better without the pressure of having to write.
So I lose the fluidity of ideas when I start to write.
Typing is also a learned skill. I can not type well and think too.
I guess one is getting used to it, but I can already feel my
thoughts slowing down. Shame is all this has no value.
Perhaps I can write about baseball. Perhaps I can write
about the goal. Today I got into a fight.
Tomorrow I will enter
It’s called consent – the next generation will likely too.
My example, is the lifeguard at the beach. They are
naturally a**holes. My guess the way it evolves like this:
A while back, they thought let’s provide a small service.
If you go out, get in trouble, we will come to save you!
But then they started to think, ‘well, we might jeopardize our
own lives in the act’. Thus they make laws and rules, that
are meant to protect me. I never asked for that. But they
insist. So now, you have to hear the a**holes telling you
where and when you can swim here and there.