Losing My Way

All the hopeless still dream

Someone died at the shelter. Who? When? Why? How? It's very sad it happened, but we all got forced to leave an hour before the usual get your filthy asses out of here time, because we were told it was an emergency. What made it an emergency? Were the people in charge hiding something? I hate to sound callous, but was the safety of those still alive somehow threatened by a corpse? Had it become a zombie, set upon a rampage, wreaking havoc on anyone who might still have been sleeping? Was it just another example of how little respect we are given? Should I give them the benefit of the doubt? If so, why? We receive no benefits, and they do so little, and care even less. Given the people they watch over, could they possibly care too much?

I hoped that once I started getting better that my voice would just come back. No such luck. 8 days after the illness began, my voice has made very slow progress to my full range, and it seems like it will never come back.

I can't believe it's been a whole week since I last entered anything on my blog. Given how I felt, it's not surprising. I lost my voice Tuesday, my lungs were filled with fluid, and I haven't slept through the night since then, which I'm sure doesn't help with my condition. I'm only here because of a sudden, soul-crushing depression coming on, so I'm listening to Hilary Hahn play the Violin Concerto of Sibelius as I write of my malaise. If I never get my voice back I don't know what I'll do; singing is such a vital part of me, and I hate to say I can't live without it, but I can't live without it. I have improved since Tuesday, but this moment is the first time since my illness struck that I have felt so blue. Perhaps my mind refused to indulge such dark thoughts during the worst parts of my sickness, and it's a sign of health that I can allow myself these moments of despair. It seems so ironic.

All the talk of raising taxes on the rich is foolish, but the rich bastards brought it on themselves. Despite my destitution I don't want the government to have more money. The only group they efficiently distribute it to are the Merchants of Death. All the Bleeding Hearts claim it's to help the poor but any money sent to the people who need it is choked off by inefficient bureaucracies. Just look at all the money meant to aid people in need during the Covid crisis that was never spent, and it's obvious that the government's good intentions are more of a hindrance than help. What is needed is to have an integration of the rich with those less fortunate: as long as the wealthy separate themselves from the poor we will never have a just society. How could this be accomplished? It is a dilemma, since it would involve curtailing the freedom of those with wealth moving further away from those without any assets. Freedom of association is a right, so instead of the clumsy h

"Brevity is the soul of wit" Oscar Wilde said, and I believe it. That's why a comedic movie is never more than 2 hours long, while dramas seem to get longer all the time, kind of like baseball games. In the old days, when the Studio System ruled Hollywood, the producers kept things simple. Tell the story and get it over with. Even a long movie like 'The Treasure of the Sierra Madre' had no wasted moments. However, bad movies are always made, and their entirety is one wasted moment after another, but that goes without saying. Nowadays, all the independent movies are focused on character development, which to Jack Warner or Louis B. Mayer would have been a waste of time, and they were right. We don't need to know everything about someone to know their character if the story is constructed properly: if the good guy is a bad man, it won't matter if he does the right thing in the end. Some movies don't know when to end, especially action movies. The audie

There's never a cop around when you need one, and even when they get an easy case they would rather look tough instead of looking out for the common man. I had my phone stolen, and when I called 911 to tell them how to solve the case, I was told to do all the work myself. "We won't come until we're not needed." You'd think they'd want to solve a crime every now and then, just for the sake of pride, even a small case, but no, cops are lazy. They owe me $50 because they could've found my phone if they had only tried.

I felt like shit all day long, but after finishing my set at Gingko's with a rendition of 'Spoonfuls I felt great. Nothing like the blues to pick me up.

I am going to write a book that sums up the totality of my philosophy. What Needs To Be Said! The Greatest Book of Philosophy of All Time....that's the title. It will be 226 pages long, with a short introduction and an extensive bibliography.

Give me a bottle and a bunch of pills/ I know it can cure all of my ills/ and if not I could use a thrill/ so give me a bottle and a bunch of pills// ************ I've got nothing to say and I'm gonna say it anyway/ kill some time another 3 minutes gone/ just repeat myself and soon will come the day/ when Mister Death says 'Let's get it on' I've got nothing and I'm gonna say it anyway/ gonna shout it all night and scream it all day/ I'm the wisest man in the world/ you'll never see a bigger fool/ I always know when I'm right/ That's the power of cool//