Bitter Wine

A 200-pound labrador retriever was unhappy at being left alone in the back of a pickup truck in 10 degree weather. He decided in his freezing condition that he would opt out, and, at the next stop light, jumped out of the truck and towards a gas station. At the gas station, he waited patiently near the door for someone to push it open and entered behind that person. That person turned out to be a thief who held a gun to the gas station cashier's head and demanded all the money from the cash register. The retriever bit that person in the ass so hard that he (the thief) ran out of the store screaming. He didnt shoot the dog because he had no ammunition in his fake gun. The gas station cashier was pleased and let the dog stay there as a guard dog, eating all the skittles he wanted.

Moral : A bird in hand is worthless unless its on the endangered list, in which case, you're screwed.

Hunger struck

An old chair once found itself in panic because the dense crowd trying to squeeze into the subway trian seemed like it would prevent the chair from getting off the train and to an interview which held the promise of a better career. The chair was frustrated with its current job and wanted to move up. After a good bit of pushing, shoving, and grunting, the chair got off the train. As it was walking out of the subway station, an official performing random checks asked the chair for its ticket. The chair reached into its pocket and found it didnt have any. Didnt have any pockets, that is. The chair was slapped with a six hundred dollar fine and eighteen hours of community service. Because of the delay caused by this incident, and the ensuing stress, discomfort, and nervousness, the chair came accross as a fidgety kook and a nervous wreck in the interview. No hire.

Moral of story: Two wrongs do not make a right. Three..., maybe; but definitely not two. No way.

Whats the hurry

Music seems to be one thing that has at least one more dimension thatn the universe we live in. A magical transport out of existence and back.

Maybe I should revist my pointless stories with inane morals. That used to be fun. So, here goes:

There was once a pangolin who lived in a penthouse atop a skyscraper in Chicago. As the morning flights would approach O'Hare, they would veer dangerously close to her apartment, lost in the sticky clouds that obscure the winter sky in the windy city. One day, the pangolin had a scarecrow installed outside her window, and no planes bothered her anymore. However, the scarecrow scared the bejeezus out of her one night as she was ambling towards the kitchen for a midnight snack and she nearly peed her pants.

Moral of the story: If it says "Budget Gourmet" on the cover, dont expect much of a meal; you might enjoy the taste of the cardboard that it was packed in more than the pasta itself.

strands of life

Appears to me that our lives (Im generalizing based on the experience of one here, which is a gross misuse of statistics, I know) are strands of various different roles we play.

While physical discomfort can cause stress, most peoples stress is a result of conflict between these strands. When our life-strands are orthogonal, they do not interfere with each other; life seems stress free, but a kind of restlessness develops: One seeks out answers to questions such as "What is th epurpose of life?" or "What Am I here for?". This restlessness is due to our inability to pull all the strands together into a coherent flow. We have numerous little things flowing smoothly by themselves, but in infinite directions. The are many facets of life at work, personal life, and the ups and downs of ones health and finances that dont seem to form a coherent, fulfilling whole. We seem to be trying to manage multiple different lives.

Sometimes the strands just plain disagree with each other. Or so it seems. These are times of extreme emotional duress.

It seems like we wait fo that one moment when the clouds lift and there is a clarity of thought we never thought possible; the moment when it all makes sense, when we finally see all the strands comeing together as a single flow. Orthogonal strands still snake the way they always did, but our viewpoint shows us all of them as a unified stream. Conflicting strands melt into each other. Life makes sense. The answer seems trivial. The impermanence of all that exists suddenly makes the world a beautiful place.

p.s.: Deepak Chopra, your days at the top of the bestseller list are numbered.

Nap

I dont think I enjoy blogging as much as I initialy thought. I like writing "serious" stuff at other places (not necessarily online), but these socio-political and psychological tirades are a bit much.

I think madness should remain where it is most potent---In my mind.

Your problems

Where I went to college, there was a photocopying and printing store across from the main campus. I havent seen the place for about five years now, but I still remember a poster they had on the wall there. The poster had caricatures of people jeering and laughing at a man who was weeping over his broken leg. The caption on it read: "Do not tell people your problems: half of them dont care and the other half are glad."

Food and Shelter

Poverty is a killer. How can you expect people to live a life in which they see no escape from the fear of starvation however far they can (or want to) look into their future? Where will I eat next? What will I do if it snows tonight?

Where have all the Haikus gone?

Blogging has been long forgotten. Or has it? Just because your regular customer has stopped showing up at your diner for breakfast does not mean she is starving to death somewhere. There are a hundred other diners to eat the first meal of the day. And then there is home. Where you can eat in the morning without having anyone else in the world know what you are eating, or even that you are eating. My last post was more than a month ago.

Bridge ices before road

The bridge ices before the road. The free freeze before the chained chill.

Masters and slaves

Where are our masters?
who are our slaves?
Lying by the window
waiting for freedom
as the sunshine mixes
with our drool

Looking back
at the times that were,
horrible nightmares,
dreams we wouldn't dare see in the night

skeletons in our closet
never accepted.
Secrets never celebrated
tails between our legs.

never understood
never laughed at
always stabbed
for breathing the air

who dares kill me tonight
who dares touch me
I shall rip out your guts
from your very soul
and feast on them
till I am one with the darkness

A Time to live

Fatalists. People who believe that all events are predetermined, that no outcome can be changed from what it has been set to be. However, if you think about it, fatalist is a mere term, whose meaning says no more than what we already know.
Almost all people agree the predicting the future is next to impossible. But predicting, anticipating, and preparing for events is one of the most necessary skills. When another car on the highway swerves towards me, I forsee that unless I get out of its path, I'm going to be badly mangled, and I yank the wheel of my car to get away. I anticipate that I will not have a severe food shortage tomorrow, so I don't stock up on food or overeat.
Most things we predict are based on prior experience or trust or both. I've seen the sun rise everyday at the exact time that my TV station predicted. I trust that station, so I will believe their prediction for tomorow morning's sunrise time. I do not trust their forecast of summer storms however, and will carry my umbrella every day.
To be a fatalist, a person should believe that all events are predetermined. Does this mean that fatalists believe in the existance of an all-knowing entity?? Dont think so.

Home and Away

There were a bunch of clowns who lived on a small tropical island which was uninhabited, save for them. They had not seen the rest of the world for many years. Some of the clowns thought it was a blessing that they lived that way, while others felt it was a curse. There were, however, a few buffoons who regarded their isolation from mainstream civilization neither as a boon nor as a curse. To them, it just was.

Moral of the story: Some clowns just dont get it; there's nothing to get.