Otiose and Odious

It is odious to engage in otiose advertisement of oneself. So, I am going to do so for others. I just came back from the library where I came across two old friends: Elridge Cleaver and Thom Jones. One was deceased; the other still hangs around. Both were macho and vulnerable. They sought salvation in words. I like their prose. Instead of hemming and hawing, stuttering and sputtering in suffocating and constipating prose that has assaulted your sensibilities day in and day out, their words are fluid, vigorous, sparkling, and muscular and yet funny and tender and gentle like the first Spring rain in one early Saturday morning after a night rolling in the hay with the one you secretly fell in love with since high school days.

I don't know how the weather is like where you are, but where I am the day is just absolutely splendid, a perfect Spring day with brisk winds bringing cool, fresh air and plenty of sunshine. In fact there is not a single cloud in the sky right now (unlike yesterday when "I stood upon a hill amidst the blooming clouds"/ while winds were swirling around me with a whisling sound). The sky is perfectly blue and the air is suffused and awash with sunlight. I am taking a walk in the park and every molecule of my body is dancing with joy. I am glad to be alive on the day like this. All morbid thoughts are kept at bay.

Slowly I am regaining my will power. My contempt for the scumbags is as deep as ever, but I don't have to let them know. Showing off my contempt is a sign of weakness.

PS:
After I posted these words of mine, I came across some stupid words of an ignoramus that reminded me that we should never underestimate stupidity and ignorance. Understanding oneself is not easy, let alone understanding others and the world we live in. No wonder, most assholes, douche bags, and scumbags just move along the highway of life, pretending that they see what is going on around them, but in actuality, they have no clue of what's going on. They are overwhelmed. So they avert their eyes in secret shame and live lives of quiet, unvoiced desperation and mounting inner anxiety which is numbed by food, sex, and drugs. No wonder when you look at their faces, you see emptiness, bewilderment, and ocassional gestures of bravado which is nothing but a desperate attempt to mask feelings of inferiority and anxiety. Life is running away from them. They have no control over their lives. They talk tough, but in their words lies a insufferable despair.

"You talked tough;
You raised your voice;
You said you would play rough
And insisted you had a choice.
But you know and I do, too
That you couldn't walk the talk
And your meaningless life was almost through.
Time for you to take your last walk.
Goodbye!