Temporal Lobe:

I've had a busy time these last short months. The death of summer, the hardening of some abstract convictions, growth.
                People will tell you that I am a good looking fellow, a person with a lot of charisma and potential.

I've made enemies,

I've done terrible things,

I am still standing.

I found that writing has been a power that i've been graced with. The tech savvy generation, my peer groups gift to world, has something to say.

I have never been afraid to speak. I might even claim to have a voice.

                                                          Highlights of the past few months: Kinetic attraction between me and some bombastic girl. My life was spiraling around one slowly evaporating drive: find the next cigarette. I was moving from my dying pad in the city, and it was my last night there. That's when exploded into one anothers consciousness.

Drunkenly burning dying memories, as well as several dilapidated pieces of furniture (my fist still shows the damage done, ANOTHER boxer fracture)  i sat staring into the flame of my pyre;

thoughts drifting through my alcohol addled skull: Is there anybody in this city who gives a damn about me? What is the point of my existence?

Minutes later, my reprieve shattered. She came over with a few friends of mine, and we fell into eachother. My best friend was awoken to the rough sounds of climax as i orgasmed heartily, he was so miffed that he walked several miles home in the cold light of dawn. We stayed in bed, caressing eachother with sweet nothings and admittance's of irretrievable attraction. We changed each-other. He's still peeved at me, and my original question was answered. Yes. People in the city do indeed care about me... She's beautiful i might add. She reminds me of the first love i had, unstoppable attraction. Her appearance washed the murky consciousness of months gone by clean with that endearing gaze.

Guitar studies have been going well. I've crafted a piece "Cathartika". I'll be presenting it to a group of fellows tomorrow evening, i plan to drink a few beers to ease the overzealous swelling of my ego; i've never played a concert before. Color me stoked.

And I've found some solice away from that dirty ass mid-sized city. I transcribed my existence, re shuffled my important possesions into my old stomping grounds, a quiet place now. I dodged a bullet, and decided not to sell narcotics or illegal substances to fellow students to fuel my lifestyle, for the time being.

I finally tried all of the drugs i might add, This kids' been around the block.

I'll see you folks next tuesday.

-S

Heavy Glow

Standing about some lime tonight, and there's a frog song, cornelius. The colors of the day were green and white, and I found a batch of cigars in one of the drawer's. No, i'm not intoxicated or anything, thanks anyways.

Why do you travel? Because I am looking for friends. Be your own, Love can (will) burn you, but you need it.

I only barely believe in money, I haven't seen any gold in a long time. I'd rather have no love than dishonest love, and anybody can be a model. In fact, everybody is a model.

Fuck you hollyood, most of you fella's are neurotic. Tea is food for thought!

God, I do love good things. The herb itself is only found in high mountains, one of those things the ancient chinese figured out a long, long time ago. They were right about so many things. Chinese Doctor used to ask his patient:

"How are you  doing?"

 before he administered any kind of remedy. Western Stiffs still haven't really figured out the whole

"I care about your existence" thing.
Neurotic.

I found some zen today. It was cool, even helped a horse lady weld a fence.

Don't get trapped in small town, and ride the wave.

Later~

http://zen.canterburyglass.com/index.php?main_page=popup_image&pID=193&zenid=8054c5c91428f96e44abe233ac560bbb

Slugs, the lot of you

                                   
                           I do not trust snail kind, nor am i especially fond of their breed. Slugs, the lot of them, carousing about the gnomely-kingdoms of small town, wreaking slimy destruction in their wake. I'll be starting my correspondence here, a no holds barred experiment of my own design in rhetoric. Pragmatics seem to be my strong suit, so we can dispense with any ambivalence, get right down to it. Love, hate, precision, balance. This is the tale of one persons life, a by-product of my temporary existence here in the City. Salt Lake City, as they say, is a hell of a town. 


            I came across a good word recently, 


"Raconteur"


a person skilled in telling stories


                     http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/raconteur

Didn't we used to have those back in the good ol' days, perhaps the golden age of cinema? I can't remember. All of the LSD must have fried my sensibilities into oblivion.

A few opinions:

Sexual division of labor is a commonplace, natural practice. It is often  found in many culture's around the globe--->
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http://barenakedislam.wordpress.com/2011/05/02/i%E2%80%99m-a-muslim-woman-and-islam-set-me-free-but/essionofwomenintheislamicworld-vi-2/


If that's how your culture rolls, that's coo. Your culture is your own, man. Sexual division of labor is natural, although i am quite happy to share my withered slice of the american work force with multiple gender's, transgender included. Since when was it acceptable to pass judgement on any society other than our own?

More to come, hasta luega mi amigo's.