Working commune part 1

It's time for the new American commune. The hippies almost had it right, but they were too full of righteous rebellion to face reality. the drugs and the need to fight the simple civil (social) imprisonment they were facing made them too extreme to service. This was of course by government design. The pushed the hippies to be more and more extreme until the general population could not even relate to them, much less hear and understand that some of their ideas were firm, and well rooted in this fertile American soil. Those ideas were buried underneath the drug fear, STD’s and constant imminent and occurring war. It's still going though. You can almost bet that religious and secularian cults such as karesh and others are well publicized by the government to keep the public scared and wary of small groups branching off to support themselves.. The rich would like to keep the working class in that constant state of struggle to just maintain the status quo that the media and years of conditioning have convinced the average american that is necessary. Why does every american adult need their own house?? Only 50 years ago it was every american couple that needed a house, but as soon as women joined the workforce the cost of living shot through the roof, so that both partners had to work as hard as a single working parent less than 20 years ago to support a comfortable family of 4.
So I start a commune. I invite my lover and her two grown children to share a land purchase with me. But strangely, after buying a parcel of land the government, is right there telling me the maximum number of dwellings I can put on my property?! Why is this? We are all of us working adults, some of us for minimum wage, some for more, but we have all pooled our assets to buy this piece of propert5y in America which we can call our own. Ads long as we pay the taxes that is. So if we move several mobile and pre-fab homes onto our property, less close mind you than some developments have their multi bedroom houses staged mind you, we are told it is illegal to put up our sheds and our spare campers.. Beware the modern gypsies who holds a job and pays taxes.. The government wants more.
All this is still forming. There is no solidity to my thoughts today.
8-07-07 goodkingalan

Now

Now I'm injured. Stupid job.. I still have to go to work, but due to restrictions from the Dr, and the basic job requirements I'm only allowed to drive a forklift for th other guys working. We don't use the forklift all that much.. I fell asleep twice at work last night, sitting on that forklift. I don't know how long I slept for each time, but this morning I feel well rested instead of ready for bed as usual. I did at least drive for a total of 30 minutes throughout the 8 hour night, but unfortunately my back hurt the whole time. I'm sure they don't want to set a precedent by letting someone injured (at work) not come to work.. But really this sucks..
Laters..

Today

I'm disgusted by my excess. sometime my own habits bring me to the point of no rational recovery. Almost 2 in the afternoon and i wish I was sleeping, but I took a day off which means I'm screwed tonight. I will wish I got more sleep, but unfortunate for me my body only recognises sleep during the week.. On weekends I revert to a first shift perspective and I never sleep enough to work nights.

Gingerbread man.

The story was so cool about the gingerbread man. He was fast and uncatchable. He could taunt his pursuers as he skipped gaily between their fingers. Unfortunately in the real world I an the gingerbread man. Truth is he's very fragile. Every errant bend could result in fracture. Bending over to stretch before working can result in a deep fissure. Trying to hold the shards together with stomach and back muscles only works sometimes. So here I am. Another day off work because my back hurts too much to consider even walking around. I know I need a different job. Even the easy tasks are complicated by my fragility. I'm taking heat from home, she doesn't like seeing me in pain, even though she rubs it in my face every day I spend lying flat out on the living room floor, trying not to move. Took the night off, tomorrow will be trying to find a new job. Post haste. If it's spelled wrong, too bad. I'm drunk, on vicodin, and still it hurts to move....

Hmm

Rappers who sing (rap)
about how much money thay make rapping, are worse than misers masturbating over their savings account balances.

Plea to the world media..

Do not show the Saddam Hussein execution on the TV, or internet.. It will hurt the people who watch it more than it will hurt Hussein. My opinion. Live with it. All you voyeurs get a life!

Ferris wheels.

Oh I want to ride on the Ferris wheel going up, up, up before we hit the deep. No one has the answers, though everyone is looking makes sense to look from high, but it only shows the ruin
when you're down you feel about 10 feet deep, and the sky spreads out above you like a mockery wanna ride on that wheel with the rest of the sheep,although it goes nowhere, we never stop moving though it never goes anywhere we still keep hoping
Gonna ride that wheel, going bleat bleat bleat.
I know it's not better being one of the sheep, but the wolves always hunger and the cows always slumber, if the sheep have hope I want to ride with them a little.
I can see through the facade though I wish that I couldn't, truth is I'm not a wolf nor an ewe nor a villain
Coyotes gotta feed and the scraps are better than starving, my cynical veils may seem quite alarming. That Ferris wheel keeps a-turning like lamb rotisserie makes my mouth water, like my eyes like my heart. We're all food I say, and try to turn an Eye. But my chest shudders as I turn away. Sometimes carnival rides make me sick.

Not quite super, man...

So I did get another costume. Ironically enough I decided (through lack of other options) to go as Mr Incredible this Halloween. Everyone who's seen the movie gets the joke, the rest of you see the movie. It was incredible, I guess I put the package together just right. I hit state street to a flurry of "Mr Incredible! Mr Incredible! Picture please" There seemed to be several groups of Japanese tourists who were rabid for my picture. Flattering really, total ego boost despite the mask, plastic hair and skintight red suit. Thankfully foreigners were not my only admirers, I couldn't walk 10 feet without being stopped for a fan of "Mr Incredible" Then I came face to face with myself...Well a 3 foot tall version of myself. We regarded each other across a small patch of asphalt, the tension heavy like the humidity in July (at least here in WI). The sounds of the street faded to nothing then broken by my mini-mirror's father, "He thinks he's Superman. Please don't spoil it." What could I do? So I saluted him and said "Carry on, keep up the good work." He saluted back with a blank stare, that I took for awe. I cut quite a figure in red tights you know. So after an hour or two of this Fun. A police officer stepped up and said- "Sir can I smell your soda bottle?" Then the night went significantly downhill. I was arrested, handcuffed, booked and held in a dank smelly basement of a local parking garage. When I finally was released they gave me a $300 citation for open container. They breathalysed me and despite blowing a .04, Well below the driving limit they banned me from going back onto the fenced off street of party. The best part of the entire EVENT.. Was that they left my coat and other possessions with the people I came to town with. Then told these people I was being held and released at somewhere other than where they actually took me. So skintight red suit $50 , 30 degrees free , no coat even more free, and not able to find my friends downtown? Priceless.. Love the cops, finally met my friends they didn't want to go elsewhere so I called for a ride and turned them loose. My mood entirely ruined I still had my picture taken by at least 5 other groups as I stalked and muttered waiting for my ride. Honestly, I'm such a ham, that every time a camera pointed at me my chin came up, and I grinned, and cheesed for all I was worth.

Superman suit.

I am too fat for my superman suit. Metaphor for me? At least my life, right now. Granted it's been almost 10 years since I wore that suit. 10 years of beer and meat and soft living. Soft living earned by my own sweat and labor, but that doesn't excuse the excess or the results. I have a small photo album with a picture of myself about 8 ina superman shirt flexing my muscles, then me at 21 in a skin tight full superman costume, looking quite sleek and sexy, I don't mind saying.. unfortunately now at 31 I either need to adapt and try to find a plus size superman suit, or figure out how to lose the close to 70 pounds I've gained in the last 10 years. I can no longer be supreman because I am too fat to fly.. Look in the sky is that a blimp? A lump of marshmallow? No! it's supersized man! I should just have the burger king logo blazoned on my chest next to McD's or any other fast food. Fatter than a speeding mullet, able to eat tall stacks of pancakes in a single round. I am too fat for my superman suit, despite my best intentions, and my noble aspirations to help mankind, or any other cliche ideas pounded into my brain by reading all those sappy, happy ending fantasy novels. So much for childhood dreams. I guess I never will fly in that suit, never swoop down to save my Lois Lane, Unless of course Lois lane is related to Little Debbie, in which case she's in luck. Or out of luck.