I am finding that the older I get, the less patience I have for relationships of any kind.

I am not a humanist.

I enjoy watching people; however, interacting with them has become tedious and painful….

There are exceptions, I guess…

She is happy now!

And confident. There is no nervousness in her stories, just narrative. I feel honored when she shares with me.

“The Asian guy at A&W is my favorite! ” She smiles. “He always gives me 2 lolys. I didn’t have enough to get a drink and he said, ‘No worries, the drinks on me.’ Then he gave me 4 lollipops… Made my day. “

It’s the little things in life that matter I find when we can get out of our on way and just be.

I feel my heart beating and I know I exist.

This world I can touch and I know it exists.

With little interference from others I have come to know me. I am definable. I will not be a stranger to myself like the others.

“Know thyself. ” said Socrates.

I see her and I know what I want.

She will decide and I be reduced to that.

But not a stranger to myself.

I will accept and stay or move on.

Life is grand like this…

What a magnificent word; Undermined. The Beginning. The alpha of thought. Where such treachery begins…

In the end, most will forget the beginnings of such horror.

Everyone but the writers and poets. They will take notes and point.

The voluntary flight from light where life is no longer worth the bother. The absurdity. The horror!

I have not pondered suicide.

I have feared death.

I have fought to live.

Maybe if I didn’t struggle at the beginning? Maybe experiencing harmony after only being in disharmony makes life somehow more bearable than being born into harmony and then losing that to chaos.

I have watched people undermine themselves and be Undermined by others.

The tragedy of not being able to trust others is perhaps only surpassed by the horror of not being able to trust yourself.

I am reading CAMUS. THE MYTH OF SISYPHUS.

Such fun.

There is little comfort in this Quiet Cold.

I have ceased to ponder riches and fame.

This too died near the cold frozen tundra.

Now it will happen that I have freed the thoughts.

This is the power of ego and self indulgence.

The great I am…

How else can one survive these fucking temperatures?

If not to curl up inside and see what exits and transpires.

I don’t know why my baby loves clowns.
Whose painted on tears never fall down.
I don’t know what she sees in their eyes
Perhaps the line between horror/surprise…

I don’t know why my baby can’t sing.
Why carnival music isn’t her thing.
It fills my head when I’m at the fair.
Searching for clues in clowns everywhere.

I don’t know why she screams at night.
I hope it’s not why she holds me so tight.
Because I’m the type I’m weak for love.
Carnival music I rise above.

Is it the pain or is it the tears?
For some carnival crime from yesteryears.
Maybe it’s you, maybe I’ll never know.
Maybe it’s me, baby let go.

(chorus)

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men.
Tried and they tried but she fell down again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
She went to her shrink ended up at the mall.
Humpty Dumpty wanted it all.

Dennis Mantin