blah, blah, blah-balh, blah, blah
yadda-yadda-yadda, blah, blah, yadda hey
like that ... really
Another fucked up day in a fucked up life. I'm sure that EVERYTHING that I could consider "getting stuff done" today is going to be swept away, IGNORED, and otherwise scurried off into the void of "why the fuck do I even bother?" before 48 hours are passed. So much to do ... so little that really matters. And nobody who fucking cares. I spent a good hour putting together a post for the RSI support board over on AOL. Pure fucking hubris on my part, WHAT USE does my sharing stuff that I've dug up on the web do me over there? NONE! What business will it bring me? NONE! Will I ever get any help, leads, support, or anything positive out of those folks? NO! So, why do I bother putting together what amounts to a web-search report and backgrounder on our newest hot product? Fucking EGO ... I'm just "showing off" ... "I'm smarter than YOU ... I can find info you don't even know EXISTS! nya-nya-nya-nya!". Pretty damn pitiful. Shit like this clutters up my days. I'm actually trying to figure some way to get the Libertarian Party (or at least our Chicago group) to accept Crowley's Liber OZ as a "statement of values", since there is nothing on that with which a Libertarian could possibly disagree. But, who am I kidding? There are folks on the Board who desperately want "to play in Peoria", so I can pretty much guess that becoming "The Crowley Party" is out before I even bring it up!
OK, I guess ONE thing I can call "got accomplished" today, but it's one of those "don't mean spit" things in the grand scheme of things ... got permission from Advocates for Self-Government to use their "World's Smallest Political Quiz" for a CafePress store. Whooopie! Another CafePress project for me to bust ass on and have the rest of the fucking board turn up their noses at. Fuck 'em ... I'm going to ride that train even if I have to shove some of them under the wheels.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch ...
WHERE GONE WITHIN
absenting, going,
press action hard
yet uncertain
in this surrounding grey
this liminal state
this half-hidden refuge
wherein we retreat
from the nightmare outside
we become
some alternate
some make-believe
simulacrum of the self
and play the puppet show
of anguish, loss,
alienation and despair,
with paper for our blood
here are symbols
writ in smoke
currents in the mist
each touch-stone mark
is referenced
thought none would see
nor understand
as language disappears
every vector
has a switch
and every switch a line
and every line
a consonant
corresponding to a scene
in arcane myth
known only to the few
in these coverings
we cower
seeking camouflage
and obfuscation
that the insane world without
can not find us
to touch us with the killing hand
of their reality
- Brendan Tripp
03/28/2001
Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp
