We Must

March 02, 2010

I was thinking about this the other day when questioning what this blog thing is all about. Not just this one really but anyone who puts themselves out there for whatever reason or reasons. What’s the point? Connect with anyone; it’s the net.

I originally started this thing because I wanted to give mmyself an incentive to keep writing; on a consistent basis. It’s been three years or more since the first blog I’ve tried. One entry happened and that was it. The second year and about the same time really; another New Year’s revolution that didn’t pan out. Next?

But this year I thought I’d try something different to spur this blog thing along. I like writing so I took a few writing classes. Those are the things that helped to get on the stick so to speak; and get on with it; keyboard to fingers and move it.

Like a lot of people I guess, too many friends, relatives, acquaintances and just plain strangers, after hearing a story or too, had expressed that in deed, they should be written down somewhere. So here it was and here it is, here, now and then; past, present and maybe if I’mm lucky; future? That’s the question really.

Maybe I’ve said this before in an earlier blog; but to tell you the truth, I can’t remember. Like someone has told mme that if fact be ‘Martha has said,’ “…it’s a good thing.” Of course I agree with her. Whether or not she is known for saying that I could care less but whoever said it, it’s certainly true in this case; if for no other reason then it’s pushed this guy to put fingertips to keyboard, daily…

Also what’s helped a lot is being close to a local library. Not that I haven’t been before but this one is the first really where I’ve actually paid attention to what they’re paying attention to; and that is it’s community. Good for them; and us. So I guess I’ve got them to thank as well… and have more times than I can count now. That’s also a good thing because I’mm sure they’re not thanked enough.

In any case, writing groups, audio books on all sorts of things as well as Steven King’s On Writing, ‘regular books’ if there is such a thing, have also helped; or so I think. What you or teachers think is another story, eh? Well, at least this guy is happy with the progress. Sorry if you’re not but you may be in time. Ya neva no.

MMined you I’ve dissed the comment thing on this blog stuff because I don’t want conversations online with every Tom, Dick and Mary, friends, strangers, American or foreigners. But I DO invite anyone to email their anything if there is a thought, comment or question. On the other hand if you can’t find that address on this blog then follow other URLs and you’ll find it sooner or later. Sail on…

I’ll welcome you if you are cool, or keep your cool. At this point I think a few thousand tiny font words of those precautions listed on other sites apply but you know what’s expected of you and the humanity of being a human… Next?

Not all of these blogs are, have been or going to be violets and roses. Like the best perfume you’ve ever nosed or the worst that smells like sh_ _ I’mm sure you’ll find a definition for any number of these things. So have at it; and thanks.

Try this one.

One thing I have a really hard time with is cigarette smoke. This is one of the few places we can thank the government for stepping in to end the fogs of inconsiderate in public places. It’s about time the state and states took control of the people who could either care less about their own death wished on to innocents or those who can’t bring their addiction under control. I wish ‘em well.

I’d also point out too much of any kind of smoke really sucks, but I wouldn’t care to diminish the meaning of the first sentence here. Anyone aware of this writer’s past history knows that Cig’s smoke has been more than a pet peeve for decades.

Tobacco Warning here;

When discussing this subject, especially aversive is when smoke flames out of a human’s mouth. I don’t care what flavour or aroma it or they have. Not to mention, the initial habit has played a large part in the demise of a childhood mentor; one I still miss to this day. Smoking was not his very lucky strike.

Although anyone who has visited a tobacconist or smoke shop you’ll find that like any food, perfume or flower display meant to attract the love of humanity through the olfactory glands of smell how nice; tobacco smell nose death is near.

MMined you, I love to sit by a mesmerizing living room fire; although I’ve constructed a few that because of their heat inducing qualities, also made the place smell too much with the more than hot burning wood fire built too big to vent well enough. MMy fault of course, but have since learned more heat control.

I mean what’s the point of a warm fire when in order to get the heavy cloud of smoke out of the room, one has to open not only the vent but all the windows and doors to the outside for fear of dying from smoke inhalation; and that’s the whole point really, isn’t it? Smoke inhalation any fireman will tell you - kills.

When thinking of the beloved and long ago past mentor, the following images, scenarios and words were brought to mmind. Like any habit there’s nothing anyone can really do about it unless the habitual offender takes it upon themselves to change their behaviour. For whatever reasons even facing death can’t seem to do this for some hanging from thin strings of cemeteries bell ringer.

Perhaps you’ve a family member, a friend or maybe you’ve seen strangers walking with walkers; or they’re deteriorated, emaciated humans in wheelchairs, hospital beds or any form of what’s considered unbelievable chemically induced behaviour was caused by the dreaded fly-trap like plant; STILL some may have a cigarette dangling from their mouth while breathing their last fateful breath.

No one can really blame them of course. Especially now years later; after all the congressionally questioned corporately sooted liars were caught in their mostly financially stimulated gluttony of creating someone else’s death whish.

Yes, they’re the same jet setters, bauble bangers and diamond danglers whose pockets and goaled force its grew more and more everyday with the addictive additives they hid in their pants puffing self-indulgence for years and years and years while they flew to and built themselves greed golf courses, mansions paid with tombstones, and their families educated with other’s relative’s pine tar per chased caskets. Like opium in Afghan its stamp, tub whacko state’s lively hoods.

Perhaps their good nights sleep is helped knowing how their wont for financial superiority has led to more grief than they’d ever wish on themselves or their children; borne by and with the death caused by their smiles on the way to the bank some of them owned or still have shares in.

Amazingly enough, and I’mm sure for lots of constituents monetary exceptions big tub backo is still in business, aren’t they? Now even bigger than before. It seems the world is their oyster filled with more pearls of death reincarnated but with more foreigners in mmined. Don’t get mme started; Next?

We Must

We can't understand sickness - incurable
Butt wants – end’s the flame - deplorable
When the self - deep ends
And/butt wants - defends
Crept the need
End did heed
A door - able

We may understand weighs of happy nest
Butt to cig's - jig's up- end of life? - One guess
Taste did fire – be grins
Sad as pyre’s – end’s grim
Help me docks
Blood from rocks
Cure - end duress

We may help to a point every one of us
To the unpal - per bulls - innards sank 'em - bust
When our fill’s - to tend
Ends a life - dear friends
Right the wills
Unpaid bills
Know more
We must.