hi
drifting through the streets in what is rapidly become winter fighting the urge to run out in the street al a mary tyler moore credits, was a dave the other day. his wanton acks of selfisms derive meaningless gratuity for his staff. the wonderus movement behind the eyes of the world intrigue him, untill abburuptly, absolute zero, and he is alone with the pain of the humanity. darkness to the right, darkness to the left, viscous like so much pancakes. the outside attacking his poor defenseless (elitist) self. hunched towards the raging bitter wind, and fighting anew to keep afloat he parleys his quarling compatriots in attempts to pacify the universe. _backoff? the blue blood that his the soul of any clique runs rampet on the tile floors of some psychotic referance (or pun?) and the failings of our social and personal systems and magnified infront of us. years ago, today, and inevitable. the boys of summer and the deaths of winter, at our hands. (we who are they) are who they want. are who i want to change, the fundamental creators and perp-traitors and some other politikill buzz words. the fight tonight is the right for light? we execute our orders and sound like every angsted teen since rules were invented. the rules going all the way up to the ceiling. why us, why not you, why now, it's christmas. whatever that means. the purple people eater vs. santa in a one on one cage match? (the pope vs. the dali llama, 15 rounds at cesaers palace?) the point is reality is what you make of it. and society is what's been made. why culture vs. society? why person vs. person. boxing is the lease offensive kind of violence? who are we?