seven years old with a college education

the daily rituals consistently and constantly harden me, put a jaded, thick sheet of copper over actions and resistance. clouded by lack of sleep and memories, i fall bitterly into a paradigm of words, appearance, and the seemingly honest truth. truth, sequestered under capri pants and fast food, revives its lost spirit in me only by being absent. i suppose then that it is true, absence makes the heart.

the lack of any sort of truth shocks the heart into feeling, probing in the dark, for the truth of childhood that it once felt.

the problem with that is we constantly have people operating in society with their hearts m.i.a. and perhaps not even knowing where it is or what mission it may happen to be on which provides them with free reign to conquer and run entire societies with little or no heartfelt emotion (fucking politics)

OR

anybody who does not labor under the delusion that we live in a smoothly run mechanical society that only works in favor of their individual preference and realizes where their heart has escaped to or what it's searching for will inevitably galavant around an everyday world behaving like a permanent seven year old (oh the decisions!) in hopes that this behavior will speed up the process of finding the truth or that this behavior will eventually signal to the heart that its mission is trivial (enough to come back to enjoy the mock freedom that the psyche has invented).

the latter is where i find myself.

hello, me.

i forgot to mention, in the story about the man in the overbearingwinter coat ... i had seen him on my way to work on a different corner ... and he was indeed wearing that winter coat then as well.

i hurt my knee very badly at work today, but i was amusing an 8 month old ... and i'm pretty sure that that is what matters more.