cleaver :: prev :: next :: "Meaningless!" he said "It's all meaningless!" For he was looking for someone, someone to listen, someone to validate, hoping that somehow, in finding a way to express his quiet desperation, his hopeful discontent, some cosmic force would move on his behalf and make it all disappear... We are sheltered from the evil most of the time, living in immense wealth, thumbing our noses at the truth in the name of tolerance and diversity, what a lark! Like children, given the choice between bread and candy, we have gorged ourselves beyond the capacity to know what is beneficial or good or right. "In those days there was no king, each man did what was right in his own eyes." He studied history of kings and such to try to understand himself. He read the things his peers were writing to try to find his place. He listened to the left, and the right, and in the end found that neither was completely sincere or genuine, but then neither was he. He looked on his own history in full realisation that the mind paints it more colourful than it really was. He felt like the last piece, but for the wrong puzzle, a lost foreigner, in strange garb, who can't speak the language, not superior, nor inferior, just outside walking on the surface of the bubble, looking in, waiting (or hoping) for it to pop, nothing admirably peculiar, nothing interestingly eccentric nothing endearingly brilliant just nothing. © 2003 (17 october) john r. chase
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