Knowledge Comes with Death's Release

I really do feel the need to write down my thoughts.  As if they are of value to anyone.  Mainly it is just to get them out of my damn head.  They are like loud crying babies.  Enough already!  Okay, so you feel this way.  Who cares really?  But I'm driven.  One day perhaps I will learn the art of true writing and share a brilliant novel.  I can't say it's a dream.  I don't really believe in those anymore.  The fact is I am less certain of what I do believe these days than any other.  In my 30s I was so certain about how I felt.  And now I listen to everyone because anyone could change my view, it's not built on a solid foundation.  In fact it's not built on anything at all. It just hangs there like a cloud formation moving and shifting, sometimes clearing to sunny skies and other times churning into a giant storm.

Should Bernie Sanders be the president?  Maybe. I mean I like him.  The ideas that I can wrap my mind around I'm for, not all of them.  Not sure we need to get the government more involved in our lives.  Do I trust Hilary?  Not really but she has so much experience and she seems to want this very badly.  To me, she shined at the debate.  What do I know from Socialism?  All I can tell you is I work for a Swedish company and they try to make their very cool hippie ideas work in Brooklyn and the masses just sort of spit it back at them like regurgitated meat. I think beautiful ideas might be challenged beyond comprehension in the new US. Do I care if people have guns or get to keep their assault rifles?  Shit, I got people close to me that care deeply about that subject.  Me, I live in a city and guns don't have a place here. I'm sure I'd feel different in another town.  I don't want to ever have to shoot a gun. That's just me. Do I want to be robbed without a weapon?  Shit. Next question. My at the time 80 something parents were home invaded while my sister was visiting.  My dad had a gun.  She had a gun and all the assailants had rifles.  No one was shot but they knocked my dad on the head with the barrel and it was a horrible, horrible thing that happened.  They got away with a laptop and a few hundred dollars but will my sister ever feel safe again and my dad coulda had a damn heart attack or died when he fell.  Assholes should be shot for doing that.  Do we need more assholes in prison or should we teach them all yoga and give them free college educations.  Shit, I don't have any answers.  I see people's points but less often feel I could shed light on anything.

For the next few years I think I'm just going to listen and try not to voice an opinion because again, almost any view feels right at any given time lately.  Is sin real or just another bullshit man-made guilt trip to get you to feel bad and be suppressed?  Does anything have a purpose or is this shit just all random?  Do we come from apes or that new artificial planet thing they just spotted?  Why are we moved to do anything?  Does our mind come preprogrammed?

I woke up and felt driven to bake potatoes, whip them up with a little roasted garlic, greek yogurt and pepper and restuff them along with my turkey stuffing leftovers for a dinner that I was sure to love.  And I did.  I did truly love it.  I thought about it, created it and ate it.  A perfect little start to finish.  Something that rarely happens.  If this were my life in it's entirety, I might just be satisfied. Woke up, thought of a good dinner, went home and made it and then died in my sleep.  No guns were fired, no lies were told, no one got hurt and it has a happy ending.  I believe that is a good story.