THE STORY OF JOHNNY WHOOPER SWAN We go to school trusting our parents. We meet a teacher there who stands up front with a big desk, and a pointer. She or he trains us in an authoritative manner. We attach mentally to a life long need for authority in order to live lives successfully. Right so far? In my case, at the age of 25 I was ready to enter the practice of law where I hoped for success and a happy life finally. Very shortly, very shortly, I became anxious. There was a foreboding. I was made more uncomfortable with each experience. Law work is nothing like what I was told it would be. The system is corrupt. But I still cling to my expectation that career success is necessary to my happiness as a man. Each day my grasp of what the fuck success amounts to after all becomes more clouded, murkier. I hear songs on the airwaves and at concerts which describe my life as the life of a fool. What am I becoming? I want to rip off my business suit to run naked in the street with my hair on fire! But I am too afraid. In strange, weird (weird comes from a word meaning wise), fragmented steps I go about a journey of my own believing myself to be the first man to have failed in such a total way which journey works so as to break up my career, end a marriage, and start an entirely new way of relating with my two children whom I love deeply. Almost magically I meet a woman who is a career counselor who asserts a beautiful message that I am made to be joyful in my work everyday and at all levels. This understanding sets me on a completely new course. It is no longer a world of systems to me but an undivided one of unlimited beauty. It reminds me of a painting. A true masterpiece. I am drawn from within to learn the truth about my identity and nobody else can teach me that. From this point onward I will use thinking capacity for mastering mechanical processes and follow my heart, which includes my whole nature, which includes your whole nature and that of every human being for all the rest. I’ll go by the name Johnny Whooper Swan who does not explain itself to anyone. By my fruits shall I be known. Watch me soar!

Sunday, March 12, 2017

It Bothers Me
Thinking I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. Can I be certain I am clever? I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever.

When I stop thinking I know.

Then it bothers me to realize how the geniuses are dominated by so many buffoons. How can they be geniuses? How can I be certain? I am not even clever.

The geniuses are geniuses at one thing: they are good at making it seem that that one thing is all that matters. They do it with imagination, the pattern for the invisible internet believed to be real liable. Everyone is connected to something in that strange place, on that cloud, it appears so anyway. Always and forever what show you are watching is the only show that matters and everybody who knows you is there. Nothing else matters. The crooks are in charge of all the real stuff and all the geniuses work for them and are paid royalties which amount to only a pittance of the real cash flow.

Do you know how much dough the governments collect on selling lottery tickets for every dime they pay out to the very few big winners? The same government you have sworn to uphold with your lives and the lives of your loved ones? Ripping off the poor is a sorry way to go.

Thinking I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. Can I be certain I am clever? I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever.

When I stop thinking I know.


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