Sitting on the main thoroughfare in front of a little bar. Two dollar bottles of beer on a pleasant weekday afternoon in an otherwise six dollar world. Could I have been thrust back three decades or maybe more? Bottle one, three quarters downed. Everything in this world stands out looking pretty in this afternoon Summer light despite the fact that all those young unknowingly to themselves will eventually grow old and ugly and die. Those fatally youthful within stay within and I sit outside. A gratuitous compromise that is if they are lucky. So I sit here by the highway where my personal river flows. And old Siddhartha counting heads and distressed truck logos as they whisk by. Counting out humanities’ folly as I recollect my own. It could have been any number of decades held in one hand dispatched from a deck of unpromising cards. In olden days before television and radio were born people sang songs in bars. Sang out like they often might sing at work before factories cropped up like weeds to hold un-Godly sway. No hurry for the tortoise far off and alone on some distant beach’s crafty sands. No haste for the tiny reptile inert within the remotest desert full of same. We all share this sense of peace as equals. Perhaps wondering where our next meal will come from in the back of our minds? But pleasantly satisfied none the less! Better off than this societies phalanxes of whining cuck’s! ME? A sailor on the beach. No fucking TV babysitters to tell me the time. Thank you very much! How nice to think that I have forgotten my own name yet once again. Just be what I had in childhood. Just be! Solving puzzles with my eyes unfolding miraculous dilemmas of the mundane summoning cooked up magic from them. Magnificence in a single penny! Drinking always a matter of balance in quality versus quantity. And as usual, a steady paycheck in this world will always get you out of Hell!