Wednesday, March 14, 2007

SwiftBoat Launch

Again, I write. It's the political turmoil within that boiled me badly. I felt useless at times, especially after viewing the truth at 911weknow.com.
I felt it hard to revisit 9-11 but I was able to face it with scientific facts and face it folks, it wasn't just "dem terrorists" on site there. Yes 3000 people died at the behest of military grade bombs placed in detonation style. And yes our government did it. Not unusual after Pearl Harbor or even the 6000 youngsters Bushie sent over to Iraq in the name of oil, war profiteering, and perhaps idiocy. I'll let him have his brainless existence if that be all he can hide behind.

Perhaps the best analogy would be: The Emperor Palpatine = Cheney, Darth Vader = George W Bush.

Aside from that - heroes rejoice. Perhaps the elected Congress will get us free from lies and pardon a few dead poets, Truth and Honor.

So life does pass swiftly.

Tremendous but nonchalant change sneaks by while soft harsh waves still lap upon memory's shore. I languished there for a day, an unusually globally-warmed day in Southern California.

Fear darkened the alleyway of potential loss and perhaps regret - so an impromptu trip to Florida's sunny shores - exit stage left.

And days follow closely to the nights, and its raw breath sticking to my cheek, indecision and worry and change all wrapped loosely in cloth. Ready-baked perhaps, ideas following one another.

Love pouring without; time and day - once again chasing each other's tails and fierce cries for kibble. Feeling as if once belonging and yet so far removed from family and what is real. Struggling to find the balance between independence and togetherness, in a city of vain loners, cash dripping from the tailpipes of their McLarens.

Harboring bitterness no longer, but finding the real me in a random combination of the prior me's I tried out. Unsure if Grey Goose had ever been a kind stranger in a lighted hell. Resolving to be true, watching Truth spill over the shores and cliffs and into the wheatfields in the middle. Dying to read another word by authors far greater than I. Yet reading printed material unworthy of mine own eye.

Smiling underneath the pain of fear, wandering if wondered, preaching the good fight and crying never. Which emotion was missing? and then accusing anger of dismissing sadness. Wanting for some reason to cry my eyes out but realizing to what purpose. Feeling hopeless and hopeful at the same time. How strange.

Resolving the past, pursuing the present, and planning for the future in a Choose-Your-Own-
Adventure style. Seeing that there is a link from Southbay Ford Reviews on MSN and not knowing how it got there.

Seeking solace and resting in lonliness, and realizing it's not so bad.

And that, folks, is where I have been. I will begin to write anew. For fresh ideas abound.

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