That others are suffering more doesn't invalidate anything you feel.
It's a weird world we find ourselves in, if you weren't a little bothered and confused here and there, I couldn't be your friend.
Sometimes it's not the apparent annoyance that is really driving us crazy.
We're just a ripple in the pond. Ride the wave outward, it's hard to go back to the beginning.
Hang tough, and tell Buddy I said 'Hi'. And of course - Say hi to your dog for me.
And I thank you for the encouragement sir. It does not go to waste.
I truly appreciate everyone here, and those having chosen to move on. All the talent and common interests. All the stories and experiences. Plus the photographers. Wow to that bunch. We really have had some special folks move through here. A beautifully unique place.
Almost paradise, if you will. The infrequent strife was almost worth it.
Since the Bad Poetry thread is also dead, I thought I would put this here. It's not poetry. It's not even bad. It's a defense mechanism I have gone to since a troubled child.
Bad things happen to me and I look to quickly find someone having a far worse time. That's not hard to do really.
I realize that I've been hit hard here with all this and I am taking it very personally though in the big picture I realize it is obviously time for perspective.
There are people; children, waking up in this world to bloody rubble and destroyed lives sponsored by the worst kind of humanity. It begins with thoughts. We are all a part of the same hypocrisy.
It sickens me to my core to be rendered helpless and doing anything to survive, only to discover that survival itself is just a one man band playing to an audience of no one.
I am surprised at how this recent debacle has affected me emotionally. I feel the worst of that at the place where I can't hold it back because in some ways it is interconnected with some deep emotionally psychological frustration and default anger.
"All will be well" I am fond of saying. I realize that is a whisper in the ear of that little boy as he stands alone with his battered stability and emotional scars and separation from reality. He doesn't have the ability at that point to understand anything and hides pain in dark secrets and angry outbursts.
This is a stupid internet radio station! What does it really matter? Well my friends, to me it is much more than that. It is an escape to reality. The reality within myself.
I want to thank William for all his efforts to build a true dreamscape. A true dreamy escape. Music. It's the closest thing to God that I can even imagine. Selfishly, I want to keep it and protect it. To seek it out and understand it.
Realistically, paradise is a beautiful tree or an interesting rock or a floating jay feather. With music and poetry I can give it life. I can extract life from it. I can give all of it away and sleep well even when I'm shackled and alone. Peace of mind. Peace in my heart. This is me, getting old, growing into myself by confronting things I can't change, and accepting change I can't understand. Over the top we go.
Thanks for listening.
Yes.
You are correct.
That others are suffering more doesn't invalidate anything you feel.
It's a weird world we find ourselves in, if you weren't a little bothered and confused here and there, I couldn't be your friend.
Sometimes it's not the apparent annoyance that is really driving us crazy.
We're just a ripple in the pond. Ride the wave outward, it's hard to go back to the beginning.
Hang tough, and tell Buddy I said 'Hi'. And of course - Say hi to your dog for me.
Since the Bad Poetry thread is also dead, I thought I would put this here. It's not poetry. It's not even bad. It's a defense mechanism I have gone to since a troubled child.
Bad things happen to me and I look to quickly find someone having a far worse time. That's not hard to do really.
I realize that I've been hit hard here with all this and I am taking it very personally though in the big picture I realize it is obviously time for perspective.
There are people; children, waking up in this world to bloody rubble and destroyed lives sponsored by the worst kind of humanity. It begins with thoughts. We are all a part of the same hypocrisy.
It sickens me to my core to be rendered helpless and doing anything to survive, only to discover that survival itself is just a one man band playing to an audience of no one.
I am surprised at how this recent debacle has affected me emotionally. I feel the worst of that at the place where I can't hold it back because in some ways it is interconnected with some deep emotionally psychological frustration and default anger.
"All will be well" I am fond of saying. I realize that is a whisper in the ear of that little boy as he stands alone with his battered stability and emotional scars and separation from reality. He doesn't have the ability at that point to understand anything and hides pain in dark secrets and angry outbursts.
This is a stupid internet radio station! What does it really matter? Well my friends, to me it is much more than that. It is an escape to reality. The reality within myself.
I want to thank William for all his efforts to build a true dreamscape. A true dreamy escape. Music. It's the closest thing to God that I can even imagine. Selfishly, I want to keep it and protect it. To seek it out and understand it.
Realistically, paradise is a beautiful tree or an interesting rock or a floating jay feather. With music and poetry I can give it life. I can extract life from it. I can give all of it away and sleep well even when I'm shackled and alone. Peace of mind. Peace in my heart. This is me, getting old, growing into myself by confronting things I can't change, and accepting change I can't understand. Over the top we go.
Thanks for listening.
You're a good man OV. I hope things get sorted out.
Since the Bad Poetry thread is also dead, I thought I would put this here. It's not poetry. It's not even bad. It's a defense mechanism I have gone to since a troubled child.
Bad things happen to me and I look to quickly find someone having a far worse time. That's not hard to do really.
I realize that I've been hit hard here with all this and I am taking it very personally though in the big picture I realize it is obviously time for perspective.
There are people; children, waking up in this world to bloody rubble and destroyed lives sponsored by the worst kind of humanity. It begins with thoughts. We are all a part of the same hypocrisy.
It sickens me to my core to be rendered helpless and doing anything to survive, only to discover that survival itself is just a one man band playing to an audience of no one.
I am surprised at how this recent debacle has affected me emotionally. I feel the worst of that at the place where I can't hold it back because in some ways it is interconnected with some deep emotionally psychological frustration and default anger.
"All will be well" I am fond of saying. I realize that is a whisper in the ear of that little boy as he stands alone with his battered stability and emotional scars and separation from reality. He doesn't have the ability at that point to understand anything and hides pain in dark secrets and angry outbursts.
This is a stupid internet radio station! What does it really matter? Well my friends, to me it is much more than that. It is an escape to reality. The reality within myself.
I want to thank William for all his efforts to build a true dreamscape. A true dreamy escape. Music. It's the closest thing to God that I can even imagine. Selfishly, I want to keep it and protect it. To seek it out and understand it.
Realistically, paradise is a beautiful tree or an interesting rock or a floating jay feather. With music and poetry I can give it life. I can extract life from it. I can give all of it away and sleep well even when I'm shackled and alone. Peace of mind. Peace in my heart. This is me, getting old, growing into myself by confronting things I can't change, and accepting change I can't understand. Over the top we go.
Thanks for listening.
Since the Bad Poetry thread is also dead, I thought I would put this here. It's not poetry. It's not even bad. It's a defense mechanism I have gone to since a troubled child.
Bad things happen to me and I look to quickly find someone having a far worse time. That's not hard to do really.
I realize that I've been hit hard here with all this and I am taking it very personally though in the big picture I realize it is obviously time for perspective.
There are people; children, waking up in this world to bloody rubble and destroyed lives sponsored by the worst kind of humanity. It begins with thoughts. We are all a part of the same hypocrisy.
It sickens me to my core to be rendered helpless and doing anything to survive, only to discover that survival itself is just a one man band playing to an audience of no one.
I am surprised at how this recent debacle has affected me emotionally. I feel the worst of that at the place where I can't hold it back because in some ways it is interconnected with some deep emotionally psychological frustration and default anger.
"All will be well" I am fond of saying. I realize that is a whisper in the ear of that little boy as he stands alone with his battered stability and emotional scars and separation from reality. He doesn't have the ability at that point to understand anything and hides pain in dark secrets and angry outbursts.
This is a stupid internet radio station! What does it really matter? Well my friends, to me it is much more than that. It is an escape to reality. The reality within myself.
I want to thank William for all his efforts to build a true dreamscape. A true dreamy escape. Music. It's the closest thing to God that I can even imagine. Selfishly, I want to keep it and protect it. To seek it out and understand it.
Realistically, paradise is a beautiful tree or an interesting rock or a floating jay feather. With music and poetry I can give it life. I can extract life from it. I can give all of it away and sleep well even when I'm shackled and alone. Peace of mind. Peace in my heart. This is me, getting old, growing into myself by confronting things I can't change, and accepting change I can't understand. Over the top we go.
Thanks for listening.
