thoughts of legend 

I have been aware of a sense of bereft 

and the cheapness of life. this precious time we spend in the flesh. this precious time we spend with each other 

through time as it is marked by those who left us their accounts of life …. 

what does it mean ….?

there has always been war….savagery….horrors ….unspeakable cruelties 

I was thinking about the discussion/debate with Finland and Sweden over NATO and you know…. I was thinking that how as far back as history as we know it is marked there has always been pacts with tribes, cultures, nations, countries ….The Franks, Burgundians 

they say necessity is the mother of invention …. I suppose it’s necessary to edit as you go —things change; times changes realities 

relatively speaking but I believe at times such as these, it is always better to find strength in numbers and only burn those bridges that connect you to the enemy breathing over your shoulder and adjust your autonomy when it is safe to otherwise there is nothing but principle but also, it may be time to alter one’s perceptions of self in the grand scheme of life and humanity 

I was thinking about Jim Morrison today too—such extreme thought swings perhaps but ….not really; he was a clever political animal; the son of a military man and he witnessed the Vietnam war as a young rebel voicing out 

he was deep down a philosopher and a poet but such a humanitarian which comes out vibrantly through his poetry 

it is always his poetry I most adore about him. his style influenced me. he was a literary scholar and a graduate but he chose to break rules consciously aware 

but what I thought about him today was …. when those of us who first followed him in the mysterious glow of his disappearance 

we believed he was alive; that his death was a hoax. Like his idol Arthur Rimbaud; so, we believed Mojo Risen had sneaked away escaping attention from a prying world ….and as long as he walked the earth …. we had faith …. we cheered him as the poet who got away from the devil of the commercial society that ruined him even as he sought it; he thought he could conquer the world

I don’t know why I write this 

it’s just words …. am I a fascination? only that? a fetish ….I always hoped one would really see me ….see me….to be understood and adored for that is more important than to be cared for only to be whored and who ever loves an old whore or are they expected to quietly expire like those yellowed photos of a pin-up girl…. Jim Morrison once said something similar to that…. 

but he did actually die in Paris of an accidental overdose much like that Uma Thurman scene in Pulp Fiction because he didn’t know it was heroine he’d inhaled; he hated heroine ….why did I think of this today? ….the tragedy of a poet ….did I ever write here how I discovered my biological lineage connects to medieval and ancient French aristocracy….I know it sounds outrageous but it is documented and I realize…. so it seems I contain nearly every nation in my dna  

dna memory ….? what about that ….am I just haunted?