Saturday, May 3, 2014


My life is so dysfunctional because I am dysfunctional; I'm dysfunctional because there is no place for me in the environment of others. There are no pathways open. I know that I'm not the only one out there who feels this way; you too could feel this way. So I suppose that I'm talking to you. I used to be socially acceptable. I always earned a living in a black market kind of way. The informal commerce of the community is where I worked, as they say, under the table. I remember those days back in the 50's during a good snow, I could make a C note shoveling snow; that is $100 dollars for a couple of days work. You know, I missed a lot of schooling during the snow storm's harvest, shoveling snow.  It's better than the shit you have to shovel today. Than I got my work permit when I was twelve. I was official -tax paying slob. I was a non stop worker for my slice of the pie until I was drafted into military service. I was 22 years old. You know -in the proverbial catch 22 position of being deliberately dismantled. Yes, the idea is to turn you into a -Government issue- dismantle the person to form the soldier. But, in the process I lost my spirit instead. I was no longer driven to discover my niche in life. I became the hamburger that was consumed by the system, the veteran. This process: How the fuck did I get here when you can't get here from there? If you recall, Updike covered it in "Rabbit Run." When asking for direction the reply was, "you can't get there from here." Anyway! Executing the idea: how are you going to set it into motion if this action of yours is neutered. Meaning the inability to do it myself. Learning that I needed someone else to do it for me. How did I learn to be helpless?  I learned to be helpless because you will not allow me -the felon- access to a meaning full life. I'm not living; I'm aging.