lunch time break

"ragman" is on my mind, and very much so in my mind. it is an idea for a rather plain vanilla story, the kind of story that happens often on earth and leaves no imprint or trace, and on some occasions, a bit of genetic material gets propagated. as they say, happy people don't have a story to tell. they, again there they are, the all knowledgeable they! opus dei!

i am known for building bridges, they are those unlikely bridges that uncover realms best left unattended. is this a journey that you want to enter?

i have been reading a bit on genetics and mental health, and me "knowing" quite a bit about the molecular nature of genetics, and the forever so uncertain reality of mental health, have found myself disagreeing heavily with the author of the book that i have been reading. remember, but you can not remember, i never told you that i have studied genetics and topology and that i could really go off the deep end with mathematical representations.

i found myself yesterday fending off indiscrete questions from one of my best friends. we often have rather candid conversations about intimate and personal issues, but then when another is involved, i warehouse a lot of trivial details. the details that i call trivial are the kind of details that turn art into pornography. did you ever wonder why pornography is such a widespread mainstream phenomenon? what is pornography really?

pornography and history, or man's fascination with its bodily functions! but here i diverge.

in returning to the initial train of thought, ragman is on my mind. also working in the background for days is the two hour conversation that i had with one man who after thirty years still says "i love you" and means all and nothing with it. i am free with him. they say that is easy when i live in europe and he lives in north america out in the wild. see i have tried hard to invalidate his views somehow, i do not want to listen to what he is telling me. it all resonates much too close to home.

the truth remains a whore, and whores are honest even if some may be conniving, but such is the nature of truth. in other words, truth is illusive. still, when i hear something that strikes a chord in some inner part of my being, i do recognize the ring of it.

i am a bit thoughtful and doing this bit called the core dump. i am here.

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