Gumdrops

Gumdrops, lollipops, licorice and gum
Pickup-sticks, candy canes, looking like a bum

Hours spent in the grass, basking in the sun
Summer nights, big freight trains, now I'm on the run

Lookin' for a good time, had myself some fun
Now the sherriff's after me, and he's got a gun

Desert air and noonday sun
My legs each feel like they weigh a ton

That's what you get from Gumdrops, lollipops, licorice, and gum.

Childhood...

...Another piece of mine has died today. Going to join the ranks of Yugi-oh cards, Pokemon games, Hip-Hop, Saturday Cartoons, Toys-R-Us, Trick or Treating, Steve Irwin, and other deceased tidbits of my childhood, Michael Jackson, King of Pop, and butt of a thousand and one jokes has died. My sense of loss is not easy to describe... I did not grow up in the eighties when MJ was in full swing, but still his presence has been felt in our culture for years. I saw the videos of him dangling his child out of the window. I watched as he became white and sickly. I remember bubbles the chimp. I was afraid of neverland ranch. I danced to thriller and wore a sequinned glove. I scoffed at the many covers in recent years. I was enraged that he bought the Beatles' masters.
Michael Jackson may have been creepy, he may have been insane, but one thing is for sure, his influence on my life, and the lives of my generation will be a lasting one.
In the words of my guilty pleasure, /b/: Good Night Sweet Prince.

Really?

We're all living in one big nasty orgy of failure, and we somehow ended up sucking the syphilitic cock of adolescence. I can only speak for myself, but I'm tired of being guilt-tripped into complacency by hypocritical authority figures. Short, short short, My life has been short. 15 years upon this green earth, and what do I have to show for it? 15 years is a long time really. 5745 days, approximately, I have been living. All that time I have had various bigoted ideologies foisted upon me like baggage on a mule. Soldier on! is the call sounding through our metaphorical valley of darkness. Individuality has been corrupted and bent to fit into the consumer, conformist culture of Neo-American society. Today, "Be Different" is synonymous for"Be One". When challenged, this ideal of individual conformity defends itself with a single impenetrable clause. Selfishness. I was called selfish today after expressing a desire to destroy my records, flee to the wilderness and live alone, unfettered by the obligations and conventions of society. Selfish, they said, for not caring about my family. Selfish, for wanting to escape. There is no escape.
Once again I have rambled, but I am not done.
One essential "Truth" that has been fed to me since infancy is this: no one will take you seriously until you're a grown man. This has always bothered me. American culture spoonfeeds rebellion and creativity to its children through the mass media, encouraging thoughts of children rising to the occasion and outperforming adults, but in adolescence, the idea of an inexorable, authoritative machine controlling our lives becomes the accepted dogma. Youth becomes a sin, a taint of perceived ignorance and lack of wisdom. Perhaps in many, perhaps in most adolescants this image is somewhat accurate, but what of those of us who understand? What about that small fraction of the population that is truly self aware?
I, for one, have lived more in my five thousand, four hundred and seventy five days than any "Mature Adult" I have ever met. Maturity is Death.

Mowing.

Do you realize how stupid and futile mowing is? Einstein said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. When you mow the lawn all you are doing is putting in a large amount of energy to do no work. work implies change, and since grass, you know, GROWS, the net gain is zero, next week you have to start back again with the grass in the same state as before you cut it.
Americans' fixation with the lawn is simply a microcosm for the spot treatments made by our government and our people. Rather than fix something eg. Health care, we make little fixes, wrap the whole thing in duct tape and say "Its a work in progress". I'm tired of mowing the grass, and I'm tired of the government mowing it's problems. I say either let your grass grow, or get rid of it, I promise you'll feel better when you do.

I have a question.

What makes a relationship work? Is it sex? Maybe its love, compatibility, or similarities. Perhaps it could be chance. All the logic in the world cannot make it work, this I know for certain.
Two people, whether an old married couple, or high school sweethearts come together sometimes, for reasons as yet unknown to me and create something beautiful. I have always considered my self a hopeless romantic, but recently I have discovered that with my growing happiness comes an internal coldness the likes of which I have not known. I have become a cold, logical machine, incapable of genuine affection. All those things which bond people together are falling apart.
Love is not logical, but it follows certain logical pathways. I am not sure whether I have ever loved, but I know that I cannot now.
I weep.

Debauchery

Today I got back from New Orleans. What a town, the music, the food, the people, I love it all. How a city like that can survive in today's world of stifling oppression is beyond me.
Among the Jazz bars and strip clubs were nestled little gems of 'Nawlins culture, like Mr. Gold and the other street performers. The living statues and street musicians gave Bourbon Street a unique flavor, a kind of moving color that altered my perception of the city.
I don't want to cheapen the experience with words, but I feel it must be said that New Orleans is filthy. Its a dirty, disgusting city, caked with the grime of history and modern debauchery. However, its a good filth, a stench that alludes to the gaudy joy that is Mardi Gras and 'Nawlins hospitality.