Checkup

Obediah goes to the vet.

For his annual shots...its required.

To remain within the confines of what a responsible pet owner does,

I care for his charge; honoring and complying with established social norms.

Yet, in honesty, and secretly ~

For all those times he has (and continues) to annoy me;

Protests over the degree of freshness of his food

That pervasive mewing that drives me to contemplate violence

I have to chortle within the dark caverns of me;

the wicked, galled- grudge holding ancient dormant survival dungeon of me,

an anticipation. 

When they take his temperature

I get to pretend 

I'm sympathetic, in regretting the necessity  

of his discomfort with something being shoved up his butt

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I’m counting on it.

All my cat-loving friends will read this

And think me a fiend

Me, I’m encouraged to believe in the joy inculcated

With witnessing a sense of comeupin’s

Ambition accompanied by Disaster

  What matters in our pace of living is how we feel. 

Whether that’s about success, comfort, or progress.  Without feeling, we are listless and performing rituals of habit.  I’ve been alerted by my busy pursuits that I could make excuses for my blindness, for my inattention to what matters.  Where is my reason? In a philosophical measure, that’d be ‘purpose’.  I’ll get to that as soon as I find the time to consider where to get off the interstate.

   I’m cautioned by abstractions that keep me from focusing my will.  Should I find comfort in similarities I see in others? In the same conditions of confusion  that are pantomime to genuine?  We do our best under the conditions we find one another; then glean some kind of security in the familiar glossy approach to life.  Superficial and shallow is not about intent, it’s about execution.  Sorry if I step on your toes, but I am dancing as fast as I can. I consider myself a good person because after all, I’m only trying to find happiness; just like you.

   The scripts have all been written in so many variations that we’d be sicken by the truth when we realize we’ve seen this movie before; but I like the Hollywood version better than my life.  After all, can’t I have it all?  Why not?  If I follow the path others take shouldn’t I obtain the same rewards?

   Sublime promises of salvation support a deeper addiction to lack, just as it can be said the same is true for institutionalized unaccountability.  Not thinking about feeling better means avoiding the responsibility for the ultimate outcome; that may not be concert with the Burger King seduction into having it your way, but disappointments come with illusions.  What has been illusive is an insatiable desire for power. 

   Sex has our society by its throat; women adversaries to the males not out of historical rolls, but competition for dominance based on a collective fear over not getting a fair share; can’t count on anyone or anything that will guarantee safe besides hard cash.  So at all cost, have plenty of that, and if by chance you find someone with more than you have, use your guile to abrogate them to your cause.

Pinched Brownies

When I was a boy, I'd pick at the edges of my mom's pan of fresh brownies.  Just a pinch mind you, no great harm in that, to my boys reasoning mind.  Of course, every time I'd have an errand that took me through the kitchen, (and there were suddenly plenty of them) well, I'd have another small sample.

   "What could it hurt? It'd just an itsy-bitsy crumb of a piece." 

  By the time my mom got home from work a good third of the pan had been consumed.  Its ragged edges gave clear evidence that there had been many pirate attacks on the booty. Of course stirred to ire, she'd launch into the investigation to discern which of her progeny were so despicable as to have performed such a dastardly crime against common decency.  There and then contemplate ending the existence of whoever it was.  Yup, funny thing about parents thinking they possess that right, just because they brought you into the world they figured they could end the visit.  It didn't take long to find the culprit, even when all of us protested accusation, or successfully employed the innocent blinking-Bambi eyes that transmitted unwarranted suspicion. 

   "Not me mama" we replied in unison to the inquisition.

  Using as we did the only shield of the defenseless ~ convincing half truths.  To this day I think all of us were doing the same thing.  There is no way my little gut could have consumed that much brownie and not notice by upset.  It wasn't until she invoked the great threat of 'our father' taking up this investigation that I had to step forward and take one for the team.  I still didn't think why all the fuss? I had done nothing…really…I  just fell prey to my natural curious nature to see if the brownies continued to taste as good each time I passed. It was more like gathering more evidence to persuade a conclusion....what?

Yes, I was punished, not the least being no more brownie of me. 

Yes, I felt put upon and unjustly punished.  How could I, a freedom loving boy whose only purpose on earth was to appreciate, and yes visit, beauty, be scolded for his adoration?  Parents don't understand a thing!

   It turned out ok, my sisters smuggled brownies into me while in my banishment from social congress with the family.  Then mom as well brought me some into my room purgatory later; with a glass of milk.  Feeling a bit guilty I suppose for her passionate exile of me from the family. Of course they came with a soft sell lecture on the merits of being honest.  All and all, when I  add it up, I got a larger share of brownies than if I had done nothing.  Life rewards the bold don’t you think?