Critical Yap

Thinking about good and evil. How we know about the two. How we aspire to the good. How we are on this road to freedom by submission to the good will. We know that warmth. We feel it. But I can't help thinking about the insects. it's safe to say that they operate by instinct yes, and yet they have societies. They have fundamental order. They have a highly sophisticated system that perpetuates and protects what they are and what they do. I guess I'm thinking of the bees. They have a queen. They make beautiful homes with lucious venomy sweetness. But what is it about them? Ahh yes...their essential coldness.
I'm afraid to say, my friends, that this is what we are dealing with when we are confronted by the grays. They are capable of mass producing mystical events beyond our comprehension, which leads us to think they are technologically superior. But what if technology is not what is going on here but some form of living nature. Some form of permeability which has the ability to camoflauge inside and outside the psyche. The physical realms contain the inner dimensions. What if they reside in our frontal lobes or in our dreams, yet in both places. Why is it that a race, which is what they seem to be, an ordered society so perceptually advanced is capable of such seeming coldness. But is it coldness? It may appear so to us, we who experience warmth and the need form reassurance. But ask a feline, will you, what he or she experiences when its "warm" owner proceeds to place it in a "vehicle" and propel it in another "vehicle" at unparalleled rates of speed with other vehicles around it. Sounds and swirls and sights beyond it's wildest imaginings. Then see as it is "transported" into a circular room with bright lights and noises, strange beings, "cold" in their behavior for the most part, probing and poking at it with colder implements. the terror this poor beast, with it's muted understanding, must experience as these activities, these unmentionables, are being performed- FOR IT'S OWN BENEFIT MIND YOU. This is where we simply must have faith. We absolutely don't know, can't know, we're not supposed to, I presume. But what large eyes you have grandma, the better to scare you with, the better to heal you in ways you have no idea of, until much further on down the line. The human line.

illness as petafor

My lungs are cascading like an open window. I see my oldest cat rumaging through the screen door, too big to actually make his way out. The DVR plays sixty minutes in the background, thoughts of Jose Canseco floating through my head, the frozen, dank piece of pizza circling my intestines. I have so much antibiotics in me and my feline that I have to use his litter box and he the toilet. There isn't a lot of time, you know. I am about sixty percent of me at the moment. Whatever my sinuses have become owe more to the viscous surface of Jupiter than the earth. I think they replaced them with magma. You know, they. The the's. I am beginning to know them by name. Although, when I wake up I'm not sure I remember them. I continue to struggle with my chocolate addiction. There is a slightly moist cakey product on my refrigerator. Coffee should be made and the TV kept on for more programming. I have the cat hair infested chair which will give my fatted body support. I long for the cakey repaste. I need to administer the thyroid medicine to my cats ear soon. I've already given it to him once today. Maybe in the morining. Don't want to do the things that could make it so difficult for him. He is special to me. So are my other babies. All three make me happy. My job doesn't however. My job is causing irreversable respiratory distress. I don't have to feel guilty about not being there after hours. Although they tell me that I should. They. The the's. Life is good tonight except for the constant and chronic fecal compulsion brought on my the Ceflex.

Stop this noise in my head!

Testing, testing one two three. Testing, one two three.