Can’t harmonize and can’t read many notes of music but I know a good damn song when I hear one. You can bet on that.

Some fought and died. I thought and tried. And in the end, it really mattered not for they all disappeared and, after years of extreme loneliness, I just up and died. And after fifty years they still grieved.

Somewhere along the way I changed. Somewhere, somehow, I became someone that I don’t really know all that well and like maybe even less. But I still think and I still try.

Even if I am dead.

But let’s play a game and say that I am not gone, that I still remain as I always have- here and alive in some sort of condition or another and still in search of something. I guess we all are.

If I were still here what would I be doing this very minute? Oh, sure, you can say that I would be writing this but, really, how would you really know for sure? Maybe I wrote this earlier or even later and not just now. Maybe it came along at a later time after I had a chance to think some more about it all. And, then having thought, I could then try…again.

Make it up for me. Make it up to them. Make it to the other side of the river and then head on home once again.

Especially this time of year. It seems that we would all like to be heading home once again.

Wherever that may be.

Sure, they did fight and they did die and I did think and then I did try but in the end it really didn’t matter much did it? In the end they all came home and I just wasn’t there any longer. I just wasn’t home, no, not anymore.

It’s tremendous really, y’know, that whole absence of malice thing. I have no malice left any longer in either the primary or the reserve tanks but I still hold bitterness in abundance and I just simply do not know why. It was they who fought and died, not me. Definitely not me. But, still I did die didn’t I? Maybe that’s why such bitterness in living, having died.

And why? Why did it all eventually come to that; maybe I mean to this since the present, past, and future seem to be kind of mixed up in my head.

I want the best for all of you, truly. The absolute very best of all that remains. If this world holds only so much goodness and if that goodness runs out then what? When? Where? Does the evil grow until it feeds on and soon just devours itself?

And then what? Then what? What?

Tomorrow, no matter if today is even today, is not today. It is another day and I rise in silence to meet it. Well, to at least see what it has to offer.

And then I move on.

Sometimes I try to get back home but most often I just try to get along and finally read the right notes and somehow harmonize with that which plays on beside me.

Play on, play on all y’all.

A long time ago it was too late. And now it is merely later.

We are still here…are we?

Time was when time was something you could count on- it may be for you or it may be against you but you could count on it alltheless.

Cold coffee and old cigarettes used to be the marching orders and all, along with a good clock, that was needed to let you know how long it had been since you had finally gotten a good night’s sleep. And often it was far too many butts, and cups, and hours ago.

So you’d just have another cup and find another smokeable butt and drink the one while flaming up the other and looking to see when the clock had finally reached the end.

All else failed but this did not. It was more reliable than the seasons, and just about as accurate. But still it was there, right along with you.

And the music. Don’t ever forget the music.

So it was. The coffee, the smokes, the music and the clock on the kitchen wall.

And the sounds of the outside world. Sometimes before the sun and sometimes after but always right in between.

It’s hard to ignore the sun and the sounds of the outside world unless you really want to. Then maybe it’s not so hard but maybe it should have been.

So if you watched the clock and then reached the point where the coffee had all been drunk and the cigarettes had all been smoked then you could take note of what time of day it was before heading outside to the world and the sounds and the sun, if it was the right time in between.

For there it was that was true release and the freedom you had for too long sought, long before it was that you had gotten your last night’s sleep.

You gave up the caffeine and the nicotine for all that was open and free and out of doors. And the clock really didn’t matter anymore because it would have been either really bright or really dark outside depending on which in between it was that you had gone out of doors to finally find.

And that was all you really needed and all you really wanted and all, really, that you had ever known. It was home and it was comfortable and with all that fret about health and stuff it was still the best for you no matter what they said. They wouldn’t listen but you, you had to.

You managed to forget about your last night of good sleep but you were still able to think about the next one or even the next one after that.

That was all yours and they could not take that away even after they did manage to take away the coffee and the cigarettes and even the old clock on the wall. And somehow, too, the music had gone so very far away.

But there were still the sounds outside and those you were still free to enjoy as long as there was life and the sun, no matter which in between you happened to happen upon. One would lead to another anyhow and somewhere in there you might find that good sleep.

As long as there was the sun to split the day, and the night, in two.

But then they came for that too and the whole shithouse wound up in flames and there was no sleep no more. Not even the bad kind…

When it ain’t fizzy it’s flat.  So a wise soda jerk once told me years ago.

And now I know it better than ever.

When you tire of running you slow down and maybe even stop for a while to rest and catch your breath (interesting little expression don’t you think?) and wait until you can walk or maybe even run again.

But what to do when you fall flat and face down on the cold, hard ground in late winter?  Barely clothed and alone, in the middle of somewhere you never been before, hoping for a place to crawl off to and wait until things get better.

Things get better. Things getting better- just like the always do.

But they seldom do unless you happen to muster enough strength to rise up and continue on until…well, until what?

I know that I don’t know- do you perhaps?  Would you share if you did? Maybe just tell me a story like that soda jerk.

The years, yes, we know, they do fly by and leave us older and not always wiser.  And, if wiser, then to what end?  Don’t know that either.  Hell, I don’t seem to know very much it sorta seems.

The same soda jerk went on much to my chagrin. He told me how when it was flat most folks just wanted to pour it out and either get the glass re-filled or just move on about their business still thirsty but not having time to do much about it. Damned if they done did; damned if they done did not.

Now what the hell did all that mean?

I wish that I could see that wise guy again someday before too long has passed on by me. When too long passes by too short is all that’s left. When the glass passes from mostly filled to mostly empty there ain’t no longer any fancy words about “half this” or “half that”. Only those bullshitters who might tell you- y’know, like the soda jerk- that “it ain’t gone til it’s empty” or “small sips make it last longer”.

Yeah. So?

We‘ve been over this. And yet still I hear the words of the soda jerk as he wipes the counter:

“So the secret is to just take big swigs when it’s filled up and fizzy cuz if you wait too long the Great Flattener comes along and takes all that fizz away and leaves you with just the flat.”

So I remember looking kinda cock-eyes at him and giving him a mixed mad-hunh?-pained kinda smile. He smiles back and finishes wiping the counter and grabs holda my glass.

“Syrup sucks man. Guess you waited too long and it so happened you done got flattened.”

I was ready to explode.

“Looks like he got you too.”

With all I had I reached back and took a swing but he had vanished. I did manage to knock over the glass and spill out the fizz-less, foam-less, froth-less filmy fill that had remained. No bubbles, just flat.

What a jerk.

Perjuring oneself has no true meaning if lying is no longer morally incorrect. It is the thing to do.

It is a brave and brand new world and as one who has come before might be expected to think, I do lately think that all is now cackled in complete abundance. They have emerged the victors.

What once seemed folly, then merely foolish, has turned to fact. For those seeking such an outcome, well, patience has surely prevailed and that outcome is what did, indeed, emerge from all that was their plan.

There is no longer the need for a majority in anything. Just a controlling interest that has, as its final objective, no objective beyond simple survival. Eat or be eaten. It used to be called a monopoly and was strictly guarded against but now such talk is no longer allowed. No competing viewpoints welcomed there.

Factions rule but with no power that is not given to them. Used, they betray little desire to rise above any of it. To exist and continue to do so. Eat or be eaten.

Individuals gather strength in the storm but it too is short-lived. Individuals are easily replaced in the new system and factions have no power other than that decreed upon them. Majorities do not rule as they are no longer recognized or given substance.

If a man had a word true to share and if that word was given boost by association within the group and if that group was further elevated by support within a larger and larger faction then, well, majority opinion was reached and opinion could then, by due process alone, become law and be dutifully adhered to by all.

No longer.

Eat or be eaten. Live and let die.

** ** ** ** * * * * * * *   *   *   *

Time has a way they say. Surely it must. All that has come before can come again, don’t you think? I did.

Eat or be eaten? Sure. That has always been the case- at least up until the time we decided to get civilized. Only the lowlier animals still follow that losing policy, yes?

What could possibly come of it? How might we better our condition other than by natural selection? It is they who hold so strictly that evolutionary postulate.

Why did I speak that way? Because I did not understand the words.

Why did I not follow the law? Because of how I was developed.

Why did I have no concern for what had come before? Because I want change.

Why did I have no idea of what might come then after? Because I really did not care to know. Or care at all.

Live and let die. Eat or be eaten.

Those who profess to care more really are those who have no room reserved to care less. They are the ones who eat. They live.

It is plain to see what has become. And even those who claim to resist do not. They simply profit in all ways possible.

Which is worse- the wolf that waits at the door; the one that hides along the path; or the one that bays at the moon? As far as I can tell each remains a wolf.

I no longer reside in a majority and I am most unwelcome in any faction. My individualism has been taken and I am left with little more than what they have given.

Eat or be eaten; live and let die.

Survival of the fittest is what they say.

Where have I been? Where have you been? This is a draft; it is only a draft and isn’t intended to convey useful information, provide valuable guidance, or concoct new concoctions in any way, shape, or form whatsoever.

I need to eat now and since I have been absent from these friendless confines for just so long now it is left to me to finally realize that sustenance is sometimes a necessary goodness. Yum yum.

Where have I been? Where haven’t I been? And why didn’t you see me in the places where I haven’t been or saluted me in my presence in the places where I have…been? Perhaps that should remain properly rhetorical at it’s core so that we can just agree to leave it mostly alone for now.

I set out here to compose after decomposing for just about a month now.  Man that really stinks.

I set out here to reach that magical 500 word count that I never nor seldom do reach.  Not exactly anyhow.

Where were you when I needed you?  Why did you abandon me for the holidays?  I waited and waited and wondered where everyone had gone.  I wondered why you left and failed to return back to here, to where we had started now so not so long ago.  It really wasn’t but I fear that it might seem thaw way to others.  Not to you, though.  No, never to you.

Halfway home and wondering what’s on the table for dinner.  Except that it should be lunch by then or even by now.  Time to eat.  Time to refresh and refuel and refine what it is that I am after.  What is it?  Why do you want to know?

Okay then, enough badgering already; rest and be calm and I will fill you in.

There is only so much time that any of us has and what is it that we choose to do with that which we have?  Is that really, now, really, what defines us all in the end?  Maybe.

Or maybe we are just what we eat.

Or what we say.

Or what we do.

Maybe we are who we would be if we could be who we would want to be.  We were all sort of children once, playing with toys.  But now we are not no not no longer.

Rested but still quite tired.  Fed but always seemingly hungry.  Kind but all too often mean.  And dead while still alive.

It is Monday and the newer year had just begun.  A dozen days ago according to those in charge of such things.  I wish for all of you all that you would wish for me.  And maybe just a little more of what you would wish for yourselves.

I journey forward and will return here from time to time, as time to time will so allow, and then we will all be met again.  There.  Then.  Here now.

But still so very hungry.  And still a word or two beyond..