Losing My Way

I have unfairly maligned the Minnesota State Fair, for on the bus tonight I saw people with pink pig ears on their heads, with the words 'I've been to the Oink Booth' and I must admit, I was excited.

I feel so much pressure just looking at that title. What can I write that could live up to the word? All I know is that I have blown it already.

1812. and peace is nowhere to be found. Here and there blood is spilled, but no glory is found.

The purveyors of entertainment have no shame, judging by the stupid crap they think people will watch. Enough do to keep the gusher of drivel spewing, obviously. I think any actor taking part in a stupid movie might as well be doing porn.

There were tears in her eyes. He didn't want to see them, but he couldn't look away. She let out all her woe, words too fast to decipher, in a language he didn't understand. It was at times like this he was glad he was stupid. He took her in his arms, but she pushed him away.He shrugged his shoulders and sat down.

He loved coffee. He couldn't remember when he had his last cup, but it was early in the morning and his thoughts felt unfocused, and he knew caffeine would take care of that problem, so he could make it through the day. Walking up Snelling, he came upon a coffeehouse and went in. He stood by the cash register, and soon after a young lady came over. "Hello. May I help you?" He looked over the choices available, and ordered a large coffee. "I'd like some cream in it."

He finished his cookies and quickly left the restaurant. Something was making him sad, but he had no explanation for it. As he walked down the street, he heard a voice say, "Don't let it bum you out, man." He looked around and saw no one nearby. There was only one explanation. "Is that you, God?" "Sure is. I thought you'd be singing after that cheeseburger." "I don't feel like singing right now." "Well, sing anyway. You know the song I want to hear." "Yes Lord." When God makes a request, one can't really say no, so he did his rendition of Barnacle Bill The Sailor. When he was done, God told him how good it was. "You feel better now, don't ya?" "A little." There was an uncomfortable silence, then God asked, "What's got ya down, man?" "I think I might be crazy." "Sure you are." "Should I be worried?" "Hell no. Y

He didn't know where to go, but he would get there somehow. It would be nice to sit back and watch TV or read a book, but today he had to wander. He ended up in a park, and came across a creek running through it. He sat by the bank. Tearing up cigarette butts he had gathered, he rolled himself something to smoke and watched the water roll by. He envied the creek, knowing it would eventually join the Mississippi, then find its way to join the ocean. If only people could be that way, he pondered; all the world coming together in one great mind, finally understanding. The thought made him smile, then he laughed. It felt wonderful to be so naive. He lit his smoke and sang the blues. No music went with a smoke like the blues. Take a puff, sing a line, repeat until there is nothing but ashes or the song is over. A moment like this made him glad to be alive, glad to have this moment all to himself. Soon, he realized, moments like this would be few. He would enjoy it while he could.

Someone stole my new shoes/ & nobody cares/ that it could be anyone/ & he could be anywhere/ Maybe tomorrow/ he will come for my shirt/ & no one will help me/ that's what really hurts

When I awake/ the dream can't come true/ and if I don't/ then it was meant to be. From death, new life comes.../ the eternal circle is maintained./ God's dreams never end/ the fever never subsidies.