All life is suffering.
– the First Noble Truth in the teachings of the Buddha

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”
– Henry David Thoreau in Walden

Life’s a bitch!
– I heard you say this yesterday


So have a shot and a pop tonight. Take a look around the bar. Smile at your brothers and sisters. Raise your glass and gently nod your head, a silent toast to suffering.

Together we suffer.
Together we drink.
Together we overcome.



Serendipity, my old friend,

here we go yet again.

Are you with me?



every color, every hue,
born of yellow red and blue.

every word of every sage,
string of symbols on the page.

photons hide away from sight,
adrift unseen in waves of light.

is it true that we create?
or merely blend and permutate?

like the wind,
we only feel it when it’s moving.

i resolve,
everything under the sun
worth saying
bears repeating
again and again.

Slow Down


The hourglass overturns;
the first grain floats slowly by,
descending gently
like a feather
falling from the sky.
I fail to see a rush of sand.
I focus on the first grain.
I’ve come to find
what we call time
resides only in the brain.
I like to play with time this way,
slow a second to a day;
and take the time to notice,
through patience and sharp focus,
the little things
like a blade of grass,
or the first grain falling in the hourglass.

During a recent stay with my family back East, I had a conversation with my mother regarding the current state of affairs in my life.  I expressed some frustration about repeatedly having put myself in a position where I am forced to seek help from others for even the most basic requirements of what is considered to be a normal existence in society, ie. shelter, transportation, an opportunity to earn a wage.  Drawing on her Roman Catholic upbringing, Mom suggested that I not think of it as needing help, but instead think of it as being a link in a chain, as reflected in the meditations of St. John Neumann.  Well, what the hell else is a mother to say when her son is apparently unhinged and potentially incapable of sustaining himself in society.  Moms are the best, aren’t they!  Now, the words of St. John Neumann:


God has created me to do Him some definite service; He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission—I never may know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. Somehow I am necessary for His purposes, as necessary in my place as an Archangel in his—if, indeed, I fail, He can raise another, as He could make the stones children of Abraham. Yet I have a part in this great work; I am a link in a chain, a bond of connexion between persons. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good, I shall do His work; I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it, if I do but keep His commandments and serve Him in my calling.


For those who look on me and my struggles with disdain, I offer this retort:  I don’t care what you say;  my mommy says that I’m a link in a chain.

 Thanks, Mom.


may31-240x300Today marks the end of May, and I find myself thinking about an old friend who I never really got to know as well as I would have liked; and now I surely never will. May was the month, as I recall. By now she wears a golden band. That’s how it goes a lot of times. People pair up and throw a big party with hors d’oeuvres and champagne; they dance and collect gifts conveniently listed on the screen in the registry kiosk at Macy’s – all in the name of love. Anyway, I wish her well. She truly is a gem and deserves to be happy. Sure I desired her, but I’m pretty sure I loved her too, at least as sure as I can be; and as I am learning to distinguish between love and desire, I leave behind my whiny ways and wish happiness to all.

The subject of ritualistic monogamy now brings Jon and Kate to mind, but I am going to resist the urge to rant about the Gosselins and the eight future therapy patients that constitute their brood. I am so fucking sensitive. Everything makes me sad. On top of that, I am fat and pale, and I look old, old beyond my years. Thankfully, I still feel young. So I got that going for me.

This post is pointless, just like every post on every page in every blog in cyberspace. But there doesn’t always have to be a point. The museum is a shrine to pointlessness where people stare with awe and wonder at magnificent works created just for the sake of creating. Next Wednesday at Farmers’ Market, visit the guy on Newport Avenue who makes artistic etchings in driftwood using sun rays and a magnifying glass. Ask him what the point is. The question doesn’t even make sense. There appears to be a lot of joy and reassurance in the absence of a point; and that to me seems like something worth exploring.


There is so much good that can be done.  Why waste another second? I have reaped the benefits of a hard-earned wage, and I have drawn a smile from a new friend; and I promise you the two do not compare. There is room for me and my values in this country, where we are free to choose, free to speak, and even free to fail. I may be a “good-for-nothing motherfucker” in the eyes of the angry taxpayer. I understand, and I assure you that soon I will return to sweat and bleed on the factory floor. But for now, for just a little while longer, I have only my thoughts to offer and only my time to share.


Dear Family,
I am traveling light again,
running with the tramps,
searching like a madman.
Do not waste your worry on me,
I am exactly where I need to be.
I am strong,
I am determined,
I know my way around.
I have a pen to defend myself;White-Flag
a notebook for a shield.
I am a peaceful warrior,
I carry the white flag.
I look people in the eyes.
I see truth,
I see my reflection,
I say “friend.”
I am he,
He is I,
Everyone is the same.
Nucleic acids holding hands,
passing through the gene machine.
Perception and illusions of self.
6. Synapse Five senses and so-called mind;
ions rush through axon gates,
synaptic lightning strikes;
the sentient being twitches.
Please, dear family, do not be alarmed
by my digression into science,
nor by the metaphysics that I ponder.
They are remnants of my education
at the university
where I paid too much attention.
It all means nothing.
I read too many books
and spend too much time in the library of my mind.
Dear family, I am searching;
liberty-bell-10 you are with me every step.
Pay no mind to the loud ones,
the ones who shout “loser.”
I don’t know what game they’re playing,
but the winners are handed a shiny plaque
engraved with “I complied.”
There is a crack in the bell curve
where true liberty resides.
Dear family, I am searching.
For now I say good-bye.
While I’m not afraid of dying,
I still burn to be alive.
Here’s a question: Would you recognize a homeless man on the first day he was homeless? Would he look any different than you?

soles dissolve
rotting feet,
wild beardHOMELESS
sunken cheeks.
scaly lips
to putrid
yellow teeth.
the vile stench
of desolation
from every gland
and pore,
the way steam
from the subway
through the vent
at Lehigh
and Broad.
soiled shirt
worn through,
tears away
like tissue paper.
rubbed raw
by unforgiving winds.
concave belly,
ribs protrude
on each side,
gnarled hands,
with fingernails
by bruise
and grime.
fish wrap blanket,
bed of cement,
dead eyes
through walls,
weathered face
conveys regret.

Garden Path copy

Jagged shards of broken glass

scatter behind the eyes.

Empty frame,

no pane remains

in the window of the mind.

A Dharma wind rushing in,

grey matters pouring out.

Fear subsides.

So too with Self,

and Suffering and Doubt.

Emptiness is utter bliss.

Enlightenment ensues.

Eternal Mind,


Eightfold Path, Four Noble Truths.


churchillIf you are going through hell, keep going.

Winston Churchill


Beware the lollipop of mediocrity – lick it once and you suck forever.” ~ Brian Wilson

pet sounds

I Know There’s an Answer

I know so many people who think they can do it alone
They isolate their heads and stay in their saftey zones

Now what can you tell them
And what can you say that won’t make them defensive

I know there’s an answer
I know now but I have to find it by myself

They come on like they’re peaceful
But inside they’re so uptight
They trip through their day
And waste all their thoughts at night

Now how can I come on
And tell them the way that they live could be better

I know there’s an answer
I know now but I have to find it by myself

Now how can I come on
And tell them the way that they live could be better

I know there’s an answer
I know now but I have to find it by myself


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