Little to Offer

Plodding through all I am unstruck (my word so fuck you) by the need to identify with subcultures. For that is what we have attuned ourselves to; subcultures. I had pretended I knew what culture was about until I faced the sub-culture. Now, I know only what culture is not about. Sub-cultures exploit.  If I have my special place within a unique group I am safe. Damn the barbarians!

I am a Marxist. "I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member," the sage once uttered.

To his personal dismay there are clubs devoted to him today. Irony is lost on those most prone to point it out in others. I truly shake my head and for this I am rewarded with headaches of the most severe kind. They go away, eventually, because they involve the rattling of my brain within its cranium instead of true thought.

The battles, tribulations, crises we have allotted to us are minuscule compared to the ability of each of us to see and do good. There is nothing in my experience that can't be overcome by love and light. Be good to each other in your own way.

That's all I have...