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As it may turn out, after years (even decades) of late-night rendezvous for the sake of playfulness and recreation, that I'm more of a morning person than I previously thought. I don't even bother to go out after dark for several years now, although that may change after I get the cataract remaining in my left eye fixed.
It literally got dangerous for me to drive after dark because of all the glare and realistic double-images that distracted me when I was driving my car at night. The glare and multiple images were associated with the various public lights like street lights and traffic signal lights. If there was a bright, deliberately glaring business advertising sign near the road I was completely blinded momentarily from it.
Sometime I might "see" at least two of everything. I didn't know which of the images to drive toward. At night, if I have to go out by necessity, I drive around from sheer memory of what used to be there... back in the day... eh? I might have been a safer driver to be around back when I drove around drunk as a skunk.
Soon, within two weeks, I won't have the glare or the double images to blame as my excuse to stay ho-me, you know, where I can unabashedly yearn longingly for a permanent state where no thing must need be nay-me-d to possess it's own ground for being.
I feel an artificially-induced concern (What if it fails?) for when I can once again perceive real objects for what society agrees they are with a clear stereoscopic vision that's closer to perfect than ever before. Yet, it's entirely possible, that I will still be deluded by what I once thought the objects of the sensory world were, during the "brown period" of my dotage. '-)
What else have I got to compare 'what's wot' with, than 'what' the child within that was formerly me thought a man is/was, or, when fortunate, what it thought a man like I am could be was for.
Life potential is like cannon fodder, but not metallic. Life potential always evolves human fodder eventually, made-man cannons notwithstanding. No matter what form or stage of life one gets condemned to as punishment for reasons I don't understand. My delusion is that the end result of life's potential must result in be-co-me-ing human, in order to become gods. Loose lips sink ships.
What is easy is simple. You screw up spiritually, and "they" make you into a life form you can't say no to; but really, really should. Double bind? Okay, it's not really a double-bind if one possesses viable options. The kicker is that one must be present to win. If you snooze, either by lingering longingly in the dead past or within the anticipation of the undetermined future, you can't very well stick your hand up in the present tense, and say "I'm here, and I'd prefer not to do that. Thank you very much, but I don't wanna be a human again. Can we talk?"
Enlightenment usually consists of a recognizable otherly vision that you really should have ignored your personal desires in order to pay attention for when your not-me (nay-me, name) is called. You literally miss your calling if you get slack. It's tough love all over again... Bitch!
In the past I used to enjoy the late shows on TV. Particularly the stand-up comedy and monologues. Now, not so much after the entertainment gets droll. I don't seem to care as much for the humor as I once did. The jokes are usually based on contemporary events, and I don't keep up with the redundant tragedies of the political and mundane worlds anymore. I go to sleep instead.
I had a very busy dreamtime last night. I sorta remember what happened. It had to do with ex-wives and ex-acquaintances that turned out not to be as friendly as I needed for them to be to measure up to my ridiculous expectations. It's hell for me when I get around to realizing I am is projecting what I don't like about myself upon them.
Maybe it's not so much about what I don't like about myself that causes me pause. Rather, its what I do like about myself that takes the cake. My so-called victims enjoy being accused of these wonderful traits about themselves also, in spades. Who wouldn't? But, candidly, is it fair for me to enable delusion?
This disrespectful air may evoke and involve what some like to call karma upon my sorrowful soul. I prefer the term kismet. In some odd, disgusting way I may be a romantic. That's truly bad karma. Nobody likes romantics. If they did, I'd like myself too, if for no other reason than to flatter them through imitation. How uncouth. Such weak careactor. But, since I only live for taking chances. It might be too tempting not to.
This disrespectful air may evoke and involve what some like to call karma upon my sorrowful soul. I prefer the term kismet. In some odd, disgusting way I may be a romantic. That's truly bad karma. Nobody likes romantics. If they did, I'd like myself too, if for no other reason than to flatter them through imitation. How uncouth. Such weak careactor. But, since I only live for taking chances. It might be too tempting not to.
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