Breaking Off

[Frame]

I'm grateful that something (God I suppose) helps me get up every morning and get out of the house; because I do feel safer inside. Nothing I do outside seems to make any diferrence. People are making a diferrence. I fail to put the pieces together.

Has anyone piled a table haphazardly with detritus, piled it high; crap you should find a place for or get rid of? (It's the story of my life that I can't throw crap away and I can't make it fit into my life.) You have to keep reminding yourself not to nudge the table. One day your in a hurry, your distracted and somewhere deep inside you hear, "don't jar the table", but your not listening. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the mountain begin to slide. My life is that moutain of crap on the table.

[jj]

But Frame, once that mountain of crap has fallen off the table... what are you left with... well it appears to be nothing... it feels like we are left with nothing, but then you take a step back.. take your attention away from the pile of rubbish on the floor, and look at your table... clear, with space, and from that you can start to put new things on the table, piece by piece till youve built it all back up again differently with all the things you like on it.

(Not trying to invalidate the thing's you are going through, of course at some point the mountain of crap needs to be sorted through, and cleaned up.. the fact its fallen off finally is in fact something that's going to boost you into cleaning it up... and then look.. a sparkly clean new table to sit and start again with... just something to think about )

[Frame]

I've been toiling away on this earth for over a half a century. If I haven't been happy what have I been? What am I missing? Am I that different from everyone else. This can't be true. But what is true?

Am I just, once again, looking for meaning where there is none. One thing is for sure. Each day it gets harder to write. So I guess writing is wrong. Why is it so simple to discover what's wrong but not what's right? Write right; right?

I am an empty shell, full of useless facts and skills, devoid of meaning. In some parts of the world there may be value in that. Here they jeer and smurk. help.

[Frame]

The world is slaughterhouse and I can't tell if I'm a meatcutter or a cow. There are things; things that challenge, things that sustain...OK I admit it; I'm rambling. I'm not sure I slept last night. I wouldn't be going to work today if I hadn't had an appointment.

Maybe a Haiku:
The rain drop is shaped
By thoughtless summer of air
And smashed on windshield

Eh, I don't know.
Meaningless. Damn, today would have been a good day to hide. If there was anywhere to hide.

[Alaska1958]

I'm tempted to say something like "buck up Frame, the weekend is almost here". But it occurs to me that you might be like me. It's been a lot of years since "the weekend" meant anything to me. I don't even mean that in the negative sense. Back when I was in my 20's, the weekend meant that I got off the daily treadmill of the Monday through Friday job. Then, later, I worked different jobs and Saturday and Sunday became just regular days.

I've long since stopped caring about weekends. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining or anything. Somewhere along the way it just stopped being important. And that makes me wonder why I even started this conversation.

It's almost 6am here and I, once again, not fallen asleep yet. My 10 year old is a few feet to my left and his brother is asleep on the couch. Here, in Alaska, the sun has been up for a couple of hours. I'm enjoying the moment. It's warm out, about 60 degrees, I don't have any fuel oil or firewood, but I won't need any till September or maybe even October. Yesterday at this time I went for an hour long walk. Today I'll try and take my bicycle out.

Wishing you all the best, from the far north.

[4EverMe]

Wow, Frame,
It sure has been a while since I've thought up any Haiku.Thankyou for reminding me it exists! I was in highschool, when I'd first learned about it.
Five-seven-five.