I think that you’re forgetting the blood that you’ll be letting Has a price on it no one knows November 11, 2009
Dad served in the Army, Prince Rupert as a postman during WW2. We didn't get to talk about his experiences and travels, I'm sure it was an interesting time. I certainly miss that fella, I wish he was still here, we'd have a lot to talk about.
The ironic nature of life on many levels lands me on top of the Victory Over America / Victory Over Iran palaces at a mass flag flying ceremony, a mixture of emotion that's made me sick to my gut.
Running to stand still is a popular sentiment in pop culture today which suggests an Iphone laden clan textin', blackberry'in, facebooking or twittering no matter the environment, venue or surroundings. It implies a transient nature of a generation that cannot be satisfied. Standing Still to run is a better analogy for the life lived out here. We're in a race in which the words are echoed, 'read, set, go' and you're still tied to the starting block. The crowd laps you, throws a 'Hi' out, only to be lapped several times. Once you've been released from the starting point, the track already has a groove in it, and often times it's hard to find that groove. Many times you're left to pick up the pieces of wreckage, often times it takes time to re-integrate, turning your groove into their groove and / or vice versa.
Both running to stand still and still to running have distinct advantages and disadvantages. Out here I miss out on instant communication. On the other hand, time has permitted me to tap into the wisdom of the ages, unadulterated and without distraction. A mixture of both combined with the compounded interest of attention span is what I want to achieve from my time here. De facto vibrancy and incandescence hopefully will follow suit as a result of this experience.
Some days are better than others anywhere you go or wherever you are, and people get lonely regardless of physical locality. Today I write on an occasion where feelings are a wash, or something else that I can't describe, or wish I had the vocabulary to articulate.
My rambling prose for the day, all over the place, detached.
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