He was ok to drive it because it is what he has done since high school with girls he liked. He wasn’t interested in anything else. He loved intimate monologues with women. More than that he loved the travel of it, and not the destinations so much. This makes commitment irrelevant and he didn’t even realize it. In the last 25 years his conversations  went from adolescent, mannish and irrelevant to more philosophical and passionate. He was home with it. He became impressive, theatrical. Being handsome also helped. For Maddie it was a wonderful stop she enjoyed from her car. She wasn’t thinking of getting out and committing herself to anything. She was going to stay focus on how it felt from here. This is where it is safe, plus this is all she knows. She was going to keep her body in shape and give what she believed every guy has no means to turn down, sex from a woman physically in shape and and attractive.

                                                    “If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide.”




































































Mahatma Gandhi

She didn't know what to say without a couple of cues from him. Just a couple would be ok. In fact there was nothing he said this evening that didn't first require extensive notes for her to follow. Something happened to him. Not today, years ago. It is just coming out now. Something dislodged from his mind and fell out into the open. She sat there wondering when this moment was going to be over so they could have sex. She wasn't mean, she just realized it was a dust up, a mild tremor that would get back to normal. These evenings is what they silently agreed upon every time they scheduled this. It was conversation and then sex. Always in that order, and always going to happen. Good conversation, introspective conversation. It fed her properly and that is all she needed right now--and the sex of course. She needed the sex because she used it to feel the good conversation. Like calcium and magnesium, one unlocked, the other one laid down..

"I just think it is crazy."

"Always thinking."

"I am afraid to even make a decision. Why? The whole goddamn thing is held together by anger."

"You think?"

"I don't know. I don't understand. I just cannot believe I didn't see it before."

"OK"

"It is the biggest nightmare you can imagine."

"Right out that window is chaos."

William says

"I am on dangerous ground if I don't know the source of which my decision have been made."

"You think so?"

"Whatever shit is happening to me is depending on that beginning. You know? That first idea."

"So you say."

"I say."

i

see 

because

of my consistency

success happens

you have to work to get shit.

i allow

"The fight is won or lost far away from witnesses-behind the lines, in the gym, and out there on the road, long before I dance under those lights."

Muhammad Ali

I feel conflicted I feel all out of sorts. I feel like I can't get myself back. I felt it before, but now I feel loss.
why do you feel lost?
I just feel like I am truly missing something. I can't get back.

Anthony and the ole man.

"I am insane. Seriously crazy."

"I was getting around to that conversation."

"It's not clinical. It's not pharmaceutical supported."

"It may need to be."

"Listen. It is not the type of insane that can be treated with magic. It is a current state. It cannot be fixed with any conventions. It is a insanity that comes along with this existence. It is like air."

"What do you mean it's like air?"

"This Insanity is married to Oxygen. I said it. Insanity is one of the building blocks of life."

"Your insane."

"Yes."

"Where is all of this coming from?"

"That's easy. It is coming when I lay down, not when I go to sleep, that is a surrender. Sleep is a surrender back to the insanity."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about a time in your day when you can be an observer. In sleep you are taken over again. I'm talking about if you just want to close your eyes. You just want to lay there for a minute. Lay there quietly. You know? Just take a silent break and listen to your thoughts."

"OK."

"I'm not trying to out run something. This is not a meditation class. I just want to inhale and exhale and I can't. What it feels like is cotton in my ears and it feels like there is an old man upstairs in my head dragging suit cases on rollers across the floor. He wants to get in the way of my thinking. He doesn't want it to be clear. he wants it to be riddled with anxiety. He needs it to be. He is trying to contain me from something big, that I cannot discover."

"Does he have cicadas in his pockets."

"Yes."

"It can't be that serious."

"It is. It is very serious. It is the greatest most intense melodrama on earth, that no one wants to read. No one wants to be on the hot trail of.

"The ole man upstairs?

"Yes."

"You sound insane."

"This is everyone. This is you. Your just using Cymbalta."

"I use alcohol."

"I've abandoned many of my vices so I can hear how fucked up I really am. I can hear how difficult it is to make a decision. I can hear this ole man up stairs vying for my attention, but he's hard to make out. He's just there to promote this insanity with his movements that came along with my birth. He doesn't want me to try to understand how absurdly insane he is. He doesn't want me to figure out that I am not insane at all. It is just him."

"It could all just be clinical insanity on your part.And also it doesn't explain why so many people have to take psychotropic drugs from depression to bipolar symptoms."

"This is causing that shit. I'm talking about the possible origins here, like trying to find that knocking sound in your engine instead of using the volume on your radio to ignore it. The insanity I feel started with birth and will--I believe, end if I get rid of this ole man upstairs. The more distracting and confusing the Ole man is to my thought system the more I and other people will look and sound crazy and need drugs for medical conditions that don't fucking exist. I want to look at the fucked up internal regions he is trying to create in my head.That gulf between me and peace.

"You could just use alcohol."

Anthony believes that you should not feed time your breakfast.

"I'm not getting the same joy out of talking about life's daily tragedies. It is not warming me by its fire."

"Ok."

"You know? I don't want to feed time."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Time is a hungry bitch, you know? It needs constant feeding. It's greedy and relentless about it. I have been taking that food away, you know? I've been hoarding that shit in the present."

"I don't know what's going on right now."

"What?"

"I said I don't know the hell you are talking about."

"Listen if I stop and feed time with some sort daily drama, if I sit back with someone and talk about something I don't like, someone I fucking dislike or some situation that irritates me I am feeding time. If I give you some long story about contempt I'm giving time a fuckin' buffet."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about slowing down time. Time bandits. I believe slowing down time is causing all of my problems."

"Everything causes you problems. This can't be new?"

"Listen to me. Time is the motherfucka! Pain is served up by times engine and our sorry soliloquies feeds that rat dog ."

"Ok."

"Don't give it nothin' you know? Don't sit down with someone and talk shit about your neighbors viscous snap turtle. Fuck that thing. Try to forget it before it forces itself out. Don't talk about how fucked up someone is it sucks common sense off the clock. Don't go in on how less than smart you are to yourself. It all creates molasses in your day which is that son of bitch time."

"You're insane."

"Keep it movin' you know?"

"Right?"

"Don't feed time your breakfast."

What you teach you are.

*

You always either make decisions with the ego or with the Holy Spirit. And if you are unsure with whom you are making your decisions simply ask yourself "How do I feel right now?"