Sense

Enjoy the sensuous fruits ripe to plucked. And if not, allow me to gaze, to learn from it! I only know via sense, so let me sense! Human is to know, to understand, to talk, to see, to hear, to feel! O inappropriate behavior, may you fall into neat little harmonies with those nay-sayers, and let us all love once again.


Birth. Stretch, strong, grow, growth!
To soft leaves falling like snowflakes on grass green as seaweed.
Falling, falling, faintly and faintly falling
Strongly, like drops of dew, dewy drops dropping dewily
Stretch, grow! GROW!
Fall, fell, flew, fling, flop -- flop? FLIP-flop
Fallopian
Strong! Grow! BIRTH.
SEAWEED as falling snowflakes leaviness of softness, dewing like drops
DROPS! DROPS!
GROW!
BIRTH! BIRTH! FAINTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTLY.
strong.

Coo Coo

On a bench sat a pigeon, and it seemed to be talking to itself. It had a large piece of bread, which one might assume it was saving for later. Soft "coo" after soft "coo" was uttered as a stately gaze was spread over the park.

A little boy ran with arms flapping toward the park bench. The perched pigeon looked curiously at the boy. The boy stumbled about, traveling in circles before noticing the pigeon.

With a bend and a flick of the head, the pigeon had lifted the bread and tossed it toward the child. The child, like a maniac, picked it up and began picking at it. Nonchalantly, another pigeon flew toward the bench and started softly, casually cooing. "Coo, coo."

The little boy was then tearing the bread frantically, perhaps, one might surmise, because the bed was stale, ripping back and forth.

A smaller pigeon, with quicker movements, certainly a youth, swooped down across into the scene with tremendous and uncalled-for commotion, flapping ferociously.

The child became frightened and ran off pathetically.

The small pigeon having fled the scene, the more mature pigeons began in conversation, perhaps about the child human or child pigeon. "Coo." "Coo."

To New Daze

The push of the intellect never goes so far as when one is studying math. There is a reason this is either liked or disliked so readily by so many, and it is because of its taxing aspects or of its astonishing revelations. Proportions between measurements or numbers echo proportions between thought; one can marvel at the analogy between knowledge in any field and the logic or backing principles required to make one satisfactory in that endeavor; math takes these facets of consciousnesses to the core. How do the proofs shown by Archimedes stack up against those designs of Da Vinci, or how does Reinmann stack up with Einstien? They are all helped put togeter pieces of the same puzzle: nature. Studying the insights of these greats requires the greatest attention and devotion, and with the gauntlet of facts, we ourselves can become scientists, and attack the very field of nature, which is everything. Or we can be vegetables and sleep. I will be a great investigator! The work will never end; it is only requisite to keep a sharp and creative imagination.

The Girl at Dunkin

My roller bag is humongous. If you tried to lift it, it would seem even more humongous to you. I carry it everywhere I go. This includes the book store, behind some trees (where I sleep), to coffee shops, and so on. I’ve been reading in a Dunkin Donuts for about an hour with this bag here besides me. I mention the bag because I’m embarrassed to have it. You see, blog readers, there is an immensely beautiful women sitting right across from me drinking a coffee. It is bad enough that I am not shaven, probably don’t smell the greatest, am wearing so many layers to keep warm, but that I have my house on wheels sitting next to me is the ultimate crusher of embarrassment. There was a time when I could easily strike a conversation with someone when I was interested in them.

I still have an opportunity to say something -- right now! But I don’t know what to say. I need the words. I am not shy, I just have nothing to say. Nice weather? But we both know about the weather, and it isn’t anything conversational. Maybe I am too afraid, and that’s why nothing will come to me. O blog reader, if you saw her you’d be speechless too. What do I say?

A few minutes just past with great tension in my mind, but she just got up and left. She saw me looking at her, and I tried to smile a little, but I’m not sure if I actually did. I did, however, miss the opportunity to get to know her. My future wife, now gone forever. I was in no condition to say anything, the way I look and am. She deserves someone with more than a zip-up home on wheels. Maybe she will stop by this DD again. She did noticed me. The second occasion always affords easier ways to start conversation, something like, “I’ve seen you before.”

The Current State from the Animal Observer

There is indeed a difficulty in assessing the current state of the world, for we cannot say much about it without speculation of a future state. And who knows the future? This is forever hidden to humankind, unless we may learn when we die, which would be a rather expensive piece of information. 

We'd have to decide upon the terms of comparison. On what do we measure? If society is an aggregate of all we are today, then we may argue that people are much, much better off than in the 18th century and before. Working conditions are vastly improved. Hygiene and medicine are much better. Living space is more accommodating. Then why are we all complaining? 

Because there is now, as there always was a great disparity between the wealthy and then non-wealthy. The world is hyper connected and beginning to realize what they do and don't have. I enter into the question prejudiced, no doubt, being American, the all consuming. Americans want and want. We are spoiled to the max. Money is our measure of success. What can we get next is the general question. "It's hard work buying this Prada," the wealthy fool belts. But a nay-saying critic's foundations are weak if he cannot replace the phrase with what should be said. Is it, "What should I be doing"? No, for this is the very answer we are trying to find. At first glance it is entirely subjective. How are we to continue or analysis?

We can only judge on a hierarchy of values. We cannot establish these, outside of what are universal human rights, subjectively. On the human rights plane, societies have progressed tremendously. But it is not this which bothers us. It is the socio-economic game. We want to know if our lives are being ruled over properly. Are rights given the optimal chance to flourish? Social action will never reach an optimal state, because like all the arts in their abstraction, it can be continuously improved. Analysis of that which is outside of the realm of understanding the immediate capacity of human rights is only possible via overview of objective standards of the past and present. Hence analysis as we would like it is impossible. We are a bunch of animals running around. The world just plays. Look through unfiltered eyes at the structures and musings of humans and observe the folly and manufactured wisdom, and we may laugh, sigh, and cry, just like the animal observers we are.

The Group of Kids

Seated against a wall, before I intended to delve into the book, I was flipping through its pages, enjoying the silent warming of my thoughts. The silhouette of a teenager overtook my peace, and jibber-jabber jutted from his form. The figure expanded and the panging volume increased. His  form swelled into many, or multiplied, so that a large blob of youngness stung my soul. Thence went my comfort until I walked to the café, bought myself a coffee, and took a deep breath.

End.

Coffee of swirlign joy, brown as the earthen roots of tree, with what vital force do you infuse my brian? O chemistry! I physically deteriorate, aging, but do I yet grow morally? Can my brain yet gain vigor? By the very sentence I declare it! Add a little half-and-half and, and I must go use the restroom.

End.

The Value of Newspapers and News Websites

The most entertaining news websites to me are nytimes.com and bbc.com. The former I find to be in-depth with comments close to an reflection of the US thoughtful population, and the latter I find to be short, sweet and informative world news.

I commented, today, on several articles in the times, and because it took a few hours for the comments to be posted, I felt for a while that they didn't include my comments because I said in my profile that I was homeless. I felt shunned by the suspicion. After I saw my comments, I realized how strangely paranoid I was. It had only been a few hours, and one can't expect the great New York Times to post everything immediately. When we are on our own, we trust people less. It  will be hard to connect with people again if I loose the skill. I will make it a point to start conversations with people, and to ask questions. I need to be interested in others, otherwise I risk others loosing all interest in me. And it is all too human to have society.

What do we get when we read papers or visit these websites? I view of events which occur in passing time, some extraordinary or not, depending on how one considers them. Many people rattle off their daily insights at the water cooler, others let the thoughts mull over in their brain, and to where do we all arrive? It can serve general and particular knowledge, can amuse by its very curios nature, and indeed, we will not be in the dark.

The negative affects are sill more poignant. We fill our mind with impracticalities; we fill our mind with more negative than positive thoughts, thus skewing a more agreeable perspective. There goes our time, into the abyss. In the end we only grow at the slow pace of history, and through news we can only expound upon ourselves at the whim of others.

I observe that the advantages may well make a quick glance of the news worthwhile; but that this must be done with due prudence. A mind to read the news without too much backlash must be capable of dismissing the non-important, must sweep over that news swiftly, and must go quickly thereafter to read a book (a hour from which you may gain the labor of years, as opposed to news, wherein we learn the day to day). 

My conclusion: things in moderation, this in extreme moderation.