Archive for the ‘wiiting’ Category

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A Life Without Fear or Guilt

March 8, 2017

I don’t have kids, but I’ve recently thought how to talk to them. As a childless adult, I’ve forgotten how. I think the best approach is just to be honest and frank… about religion, politics and death.

I’d start and say, “You’re probably going to die. I mean everyone dies. In your lifetime, doctors and scientists may find a way to prolong life, stumble upon immortality, yet, even then, what we know is that means more pain from wear, tear and disease. What kind of life would you have once everyone you’ve known, your family and friends, your pets and heroes, have all passed away? You will want to die, and that is a sad state of existence. It’s often easiest to just be done with it all. Death is a blessing in disguise. But who wants to die when they are young and they have so many wants… to do, to go, to see? Live life to it’s fullest.”

“And a full life is led without fear Sure, fear is good – you don’t want to get bit by a dog (or any animal or person), you don’t want to fall and break a bone. You don’t want a life of pain, but then again, how bad could it be? There’s only one way to find out, but fear will stifle curiosity – and the pleasure of curiosity is always the one thing that will keep your will alive. Don’t be afraid.”

Fear will led to anger and guilt and convince you to believe in things that are not true. And to believe and act upon things that are not true only brings pain to others and yourself. And by yourself, I mean guilt. Guilt for things you’ve done or not done will come with you throughout life, it gets heavy as you get old.

Guilt is the one pain you want to always avoid, because it often won’t just go away. Sure, you might forget about it for awhile, but it’s still there and only grows. It’s that weight you can’t throw off in old age, especially after everyone but you have died.

Live without fear and avoid guilt… I mean, don’t just ignore it, guilt that is, kill it with kindness – love for others and yourself. Love curiosity and satisfy your cravings. Share what joys you find with others. Share the joy of a fearless life without guilt with everyone you know, because, as I’ve said, we all die and there will come a day when you don’t want to be alone.

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The Shape in the Doorway

August 22, 2016

The other night… There’s shouting outside in the parking lot facing my apartment, so I get up to take a look. My door is open, but I can’t see anything between or beyond the luminosity of my back-lit front room and the darkness outdoors. I take a hit of medicinal marijuana, my third or fourth this evening, go the door holding my breath, squint then look outside.

I spot a full grown man, my neighbor’s son. He’s parked right outside my apartment and shouting something unintelligible at an assumable friend. I don’t know either’s names. And I’ve never met the man personally. I’m certain we’ve spied each other in the daytime, but neither of us have stopped, closed the gap between us and introduced one to the other.

The moment I’m ready to expel the therapeutic vapor from my lungs, that son sees me and he just stares, looking blindly at my shadowed shape in the doorway. He eventually says, “Hello, big man.”

“Odd,” I’m thinking. “Who shouts hello from parking lots to strangers after dark.

I reply with a muffled and stunted, “Hello.” And I wait until he turns away before I blow smoke.

Not much time has passed, but in truth, after four hits of marijuana, I’ve already transcended the temporal. In any respect, he – as in the man outside – he turns away and he speaks to his obvious friend. I am released, at least from that restraint on my lungs. I’ve still said nothing more then returned a greeting when those other two begin walking away. Everything seems normal, peaceful once again. But then that son turns his head and strains his neck and stares at me again.

“Odder still,” I quietly wonder. “Is he on drugs, drunk?”

“Probably,” I answer myself. “It is Friday night. Summer.” Yet his fixed gaze is disturbing, disquieting. The guy stares at me like I’m waving my dick at him.

While he disappears into darkness – the opposite direction of his mother’s apartment, I wonder, “Where is he going?” We all know there is a homeless guy in that direction, one who sells methamphetamine. The LA cops have busted the operation a couple times. They even fenced off the nearby dried-up streambed where derelicts would camp. All the same, even today, there are disaffected transients roaming outside peddling anything from yarn jewelry to much harder stuff.

“Carpe diem,” I mutter aloud and out of earshot of the strange passerby’s. “Caveat emptor.” And they are gone.

In modern American English, I still think, “Don’t stare at another man’s dick, son.” I will need to speak to his mother about this.

– Mr. Binger

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