Saturday, March 26, 2011

The Beauty of Difference

Moralistic spasms defend psychic tissue from difference. Shivers run up ego's spine when someone disagrees or presents a different concept, idea, hypothesis or way of looking at things. Look what happened to Galileo, who promoted the view that earth is not the center of the universe. Look at what happens when people of different religions collide. Read holy scripture about how Jesus brought peace with a sword and those who refused to worship and obey would be cast into the lake of eternal fire. On a mundane level, fear of difference occurs as one person pressures another into agreement. Discussions are not possible when participants are intimidated into going along with the dominant discourse. We're expected to sit quietly, like round bubblegum inside the glass bubble of consensus reality.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

beauty treatment

If I were a young and sporty, I'd definitely want to go to the above place for beauty treatment. The sign has all the elements of mystery and style, such as a yellow star in the bottom left corner, the elegant red lettering on yellow stroke and of course, standard male and female model posters. However, I'm a balding, middle-aged man. I get my hair done at the Club Morono School of Beauty, where one approaches the finished look in terms of tonal families, for example, the browns, blacks, whites, reds, not to mention the blues and sometimes yellow. Each color has a particular color, famous for the qualities of that color. Each color reveals personality traits, which could be used to influence one's trajectory into the future. No one has yet become a millionaire using Club Morono principles, however, there's nothing wrong with dreaming. In the world of dreaming men and women, anything is possible.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

lost sheep

This sheep doesn't look too worried. For twenty-five cents, they give you a bag of feed. The sheep will eat it right out of your hand and then you get to pet it. That's how it worked at the petting zoo in the camp ground. As for the lost sheep, I had a flash back to a situation that took place thirty years ago. I'll write it down below and organize later.

Monday, March 7, 2011

death dream

Ever since childhood, I've had dreams about death. Such dreams aren't morbid. They merely underline the strangeness of existence. It's hard to believe that one is a breathing, digesting, thinking organism, for no apparent purpose other than to survive until corpsehood. Last night I dreamed about being a seasoned superhero, like Morono Man, approaching the scene of a shootout. I got out of the 1967 Chevrolet Biscayne and was about to let the gangsters know their time was up when a bullet went into my chest, spiraled around inside the rib cage and knocked me backwards, against the car door. A second bullet went in and similarly spiraled around, without hitting vital organs. I began blacking out as a third bullet went in. With the fourth bullet, it felt like falling down a well.

The whole thing was quite peaceful, like having a heavy burden lifted off one's shoulders. It was pleasant to sink into darkness, to be finally freed from the human condition. Then I woke up with pain in the shoulder.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

sausage horizon

Saintly sausages grilled a la Saint Lawerence, for the curious, the gridiron used to roast the saint is on display in Rome. Roasted on a spit, burned at the stake, be careful not to char the sausages. Wait until sweaty fat drops ooze from the intestine casings, then apply mustard and eat with a pickle.