A Reader, Writer, Philosopher
When asked what I do for a living, I reply with a challenge, "Use your imagination". I used to be well-off, then I squandered most of my fortune to find out who I really was and who really loved me. I am now back to almost of where I was, 17 years ago when I had a low 7-figure in savings, stocks, and bonds. I am wiser now. I'm better at managing my finances, and I have stopped giving money to women. I don't date penniless women anymore. And I'm weary and wary of Love, although my heart still throbs and dances whenever I think of Cherry, my fantasy extraordinaire. I'm tired of vicious, aggressive, loud-mouthed women. I'm sick of stupid and poor women who think they are smart.
I used to be condescending to folks of lesser intellect and intelligence, but not anymore, at least not openly. Cherry has changed me. I am getting softer and kinder, thanks to her. I smile more often now. My resolution for 2016 is having pity instead of contempt for assholes and ignoramuses. Upon deeper reflection they have amused me for their brave attempts to assert their very meager intellect and dismal intelligence. It's funny to see a frog trying to fly or a caterpillar attempting to race with a cheetah. How pitiful! How sad at the sight of a monkey which does not know its place, and wants to compete with a very smart and well-read human! One must know his place in this world, where he is in the order of things. Know thyself!
When I pray for something, I do not pray
When I pray for nothing, I really pray
Anthony de Mello
But amigo, I don't pray. I never have, and never will. That's an exercise in intellectual dishonesty. I meditate. I sing. I dance. I run. I cry and laugh. But I don't pray. I'm one of the most intellectually honest persons you ever met. Take that statement to heart, if you care to get to know me.
Somebody asked me the other day how my book was going. I laughed. He asked why I laughed. That prompted more laughter from me.
The sun is out right now. The air is crisp and cold. It is really a beautiful morning. The sky is completely and utterly blue. There is no fluff nor wisp of cloud. And there's no wind, making the ambient temperature bearable. We are in the thick of winter. Blood is coursing strongly in my veins. And I feel like killing some scumbags. But why? I shouldn't harbor such unhealthy fantasies. I just had a wonderful encounter with my new banker who adopted an autistic son, knowing that going in. The son is six years old, on the retarded side of the spectrum, and just now exploding with language, about 3-4 years late. The night before, the banker confided, the son kept him up until 1:30 in the morning. I shook the banker's hand, telling him that it was a honor for me to meet him who brought love into this world, who believed in giving and doing what he could to make the world a better place. He and his wife already had two normal biological daughters, 16 and 13. The boy's biological mother was a drug addict. The banker proudly showed me the family photo taken on his smart phone. The daughters and wife and even the son were good-looking and happy-looking. Life makes sense when Love is given and shared. Life is Hell when Stupidity and Ignorance run amok.
After being pestered as to how I would identify myself as a person who has to make money in order to keep body and soul together, I coyly replied that I am a " life liver", that is to say, I live life to the fullest, hungrily and avidly and intensely as if I had only 7 days left on this planet. I absorb and savor every living experience; I take risks; I push myself and go out on a limb every five minutes; and I fall in love with every nice, friendly, decent woman that crosses my path. Belatedly, I've stopped wasting my time educating or showing off my intellect to idiots and scumbags and assholes.
(To be continued)
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