Megolithica-Bunches Of Oats

By some living breathing lally-gagging vein in my persona I have come to relieve the vessel of the sanctity of the “I’m not here” generation. Through the evolution of our assembled pollution we have encumbered our principles into an all-but certain dimmunition of terms. I explodify on the principles and search for an out to the inward windings of my full on design. The quadra-loops are a new feature in the old model from the time when before this electronic domain …back when we wrote letters to our Grandparent’s and couldn’t believe how cool they were when they wrote back, because we were their child’s child. It meant so much to me, when as a child I would with total confidence sit down to write them. I was in a manner of speaking, in awe of the legacy of being related to them. They were my heroes, because they had protected my mother and her sister and brother during the bombing of London. It was my duty to write as well as I could what it was to be me. I was writing from the capital of Virginia… and I got that it was a former colony of the once great British Empire and “my God,”  they were lovers of King and Queen…and so I gave them respect and was actually interested in what they had to say, especially my Grandfather. It was my Grandmother, who made him better by serving that greatness. He was to me more than extraordinary. We first went to England, when I was a young. We were there in North Wales for something like a year. It was the most formative period of my life… for not only was I a little Anglophile, but I loved everything about growing up as the six year old grandson of Pegg the Power… as he was known in the village at the head of the valley. My grandpa worked across the border in Wrexham,U.K. He was Chairman of the Board of the Regional power grid in the northwestern middle section of England and North Wales…for an outfit called Micro Shelf (Yeah Right!). This is always a one draft term of endearment to me and maybe I’m falling off my shelf. Actually, it was called MANWEB. Acronym…No doubt…still on the internet…or should I say now on the internet. This is all new to me… and eventually I will flow like mercury across the page. When I get serious and work at this as a design with purpose and propositions…It will eventually work… I know that… in my bones. And so it is. You are all trying to achieve the same goal as I. We all want to be known for our deep sense of committment to the connection we all hold together to the future of the life… we are all so fortunate to have achieved. It is not the monetary means, that one has acquired that make life rich…It is the character of your knowing.. the appreciation of the state of grace that God has bestowed upon us all. We have in our hearts and minds the means to bestow upon this earth and to it’s peoples the true principles of the existence and subsistence. Whoa! Bessy…I’ll have to think about that. I probably am just going off on a tangent, but I am forever reaching for the natural fulfilment of God’s real plan not the continued destruction of body and character … The dissolution of the hearts and souls. O.K. We do need the whole ball of wax… A Habitat for Humanity… That is larger than building houses. I’ve built houses and I have never worked for [H for H]. Bravo to everyone volunteering and also to everyone, who gives of themself. We all do what we can and now it is the end. I need to sleep. Early-up tomorrow… work, you know. It was a little bit of a tear I went off on … an exercise …trying to assemble the sectors and connectors of my brain into something more than a morass of computified X’s and O’s. Trust the Rust- Over and out-cya
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Monday February 13, 2006
 The last thing I say- That sounds Final

 

Dropping in, from behind the curtain of low hills, he surmises the terrain and realizes there are no more than three people on the hill below him. He has just silently entered the kill zone. The opposing sides’ combatants are just now moving out from their encampment. He sees that they have rucksacks and light field weapons. They wear the common patrol attire of the insurgency, which lingers in the hills around the capital. Hit and miss, their daily attacks have an ever wearing affect on the general discourse of life in this country that has come a million miles in the preceding years. The devolution of the effect of their futile attempt to spiral this new and reborn nation into chaos has fallen from the front pages, but the reality of nightly mortar attacks, and roadside bombings take their toll. I am an observer of a raw edge of the world, that has spun out of control for years. I see myself here in a remote way. My disconnect is that I am not invested in the outcome. I am only putting in my time at this point. I have sixty-two days to go and I’ll be flying out to Kentucky on the first plane out. They’re moving now … down the wash between two sparsely covered hills. There is not a lot of cover. They probably have done this many times before. Their weapons are cloaked under their loose fitting native garb. They could be farmers or tradesmen or they could be soldiers, which is what they are. There determination is not self evident by their manner, but their seriousness is. They most likely have a planned attack. At a certain juncture they will be meeting up with identical guardians of the international insanity, that has become the jihadist mentality… The unique freedom to be crazy, insane, and wrong at the same time. This country was ripped from their hands and they will do anything to get it back. Somewhere out there… they must have a savior, who would sit them down and tell them that this is the wrong way and that it must end, but sadely, they are hell bent for leather to treat us to their idea of heaven. Sadely for these three they are soon to be on their way to: There are a few options here; I could write of the obvious, but that would leave no room for character development. I, in actual fact, have never written such a piece before . It obviously came out of nowhere, but did it. I think, we all think about the what if’s of the terror war. Why can’t we come to some real understanding. Is their compromise in a war of civilizations? Why has it come to this? As the world is brought together by technology – It is being torn apart by the divisions of race and sect and class and religion and politics and political theory and economic war and having and having not and just a general lack of respect and regard for history. We’ve been here before. Can’t the hate just finally end. In the inimitable words of Rodney King “circa- LA riots”- can’t we all just get along”. That’s sugar coating= the result of the thesis. There has got to be a way to make this all go away. I didn’t spend my whole life spending: time and effort working for nothing. It never was about money. It has always been about love Now I know that is why I am here. God’s little love man- the guy with the big heart. This of course is merely an exercise and a reveal into the fabulous and fractional world of the great Rusty. All in fun -I went with it …on another dry well- tonight. I write first time- every time… just what the doctor ordered and now it is time for me to say goodnight, because I lost a chunk of my closing. I have to wonder, who is helping me… to edit. Technology is a beautiful thing. Trust the Rust cya
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Friday February 10, 2006
 Sincerely a true blue onion eater and a different goose otherwise

 

Cocoa-puffs and cranberries and certain clues along the way. I am in a state of certain extraction and not about to sweep the bed under the rug. I have a path worn and true blank stare and a sublime un-used sense of blame. My beating heart is sticky with blood and the dream of that new life is a long way …away right now. I have not secured the premise of my time to the duty of being completely there. Which is the here-now question of the day. Acting on these inactions I find my self giving sway to the many avoidances availible every moment of the Hours in a day. Especially now, when even… here now… I have a hardly enough connection… to even know I exist, except for my sense of smell…brownies-just made by me and the interference of listening to the ages olde hobby of sharing the Thursday evening super-sonic throw weight of another issue of the mega dwarf [ER]…the show my wife and I have watched for the years we have been married. I think we have been married for about the same number of years as it has existed. It is retail trauma and pain dressed in a pretty dress and blended with latest cultural attractions…. It purveys the lifestyle of the upwardly mobile conscientious cold-pie of the internet age. we are the gadget fixtures and our pain is yours, because you haven’t checked out enough from your personal library. I want someone to just smear me for being the dolt, that brought nothing to this stage and carries on as if any of this leads toward the door of committment. I have been reading like a maniac lately and all of the choices from above have been availible forever, but I had to go there to get here and now that I am back at the beginning I see some daylight. I will evict for now a bit of the old blue star day that is the music of our life. I am forever in every thought and theme of everyday and my love is always for the weight that we carry together and without which our virtue would be lost in a lobe of the ear of God, but because God listens constantly we are always availible to hear the words and directions of our path as the lead lays down the way. I will sleep now, because I am directly in the way of progress and it ircks me that I don’t secure the necessary definition to succeed at the composition of thought forms that have always been in the pleura of my veins, but I have to recognize… that I am freeing up the reality of the way that is unique to me. The Rust is Trusty.cya
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Friday December 30, 2005
 Enlightenment Now!

 

There is a simple reason for this plea. It is that I have been having the trials and tribulations of a young cub and I want to grow up – soon. Right now, I am enjoying the delight my daughter is having talking about her friends. Her mom is delighted too, in the sense that she is tolerating this youngster’s … goofiness. It’s gidiness -excited- youthful splender. Hope you got that. She is being annoying in a delightful way, but there is plenty of room for allowance and these evenings without the annoying tube are what is best in the world. We had gone to see her dance workshop’s ‘winter intensive’ program. It was at the end of four days of training and dance comradery and she is very proud of what they have accomplished. It is the beginning of her desire to be a member of the company, which is ‘the committment’. She wants to talk to her mom about being in company, but mom needs to step outside for the burning of a small glowing object, that delights her receptors- no end. Was that too insensitive? I feel that the criminalization of smoking in Washington state has gone too far. Where I work – there are signs by every door telling everyone ‘to scowl’ at anyone who is smoking within 25 feet of the door. Reporting the offenders has not been discussed yet, but I am thinking about posting ‘no sex offenders allowed’ signs, here and there, as a form of protest against the state’s strident form of ‘criminalizing’ this the least of criminal offenses. Once they get their facial identification cameras up everywhere, you’ll just get your ticket in the mail. I smoked for a time and I quit, but I just know for some- this is a huge stressful time, and we are all going to go through it together. The beast is political correctness. Just like our poisoned election of last year. One piece of crap flows into the next. Just get in line. It will be as hard to swallow, as the swollen gas and real estate prices, and it will go down about as well as the thematic discourse of the propaganda driven gear queers of the [movie]”crippled crack moutain” and there continuing assault on the sensitivities and sensibilities of an already stressed out generation. Keep your wanker in your pants and quit driving your paid to be gay agenda down every Tom, Dick and Harry. Get out of my face. Must-we?… the insensitive majority allow the disproportionate few to set the agenda and the climate of our day- I don’t think so …. By allowing these thugs and criminals to take our personhood and rub it in the dirt,… until we cry and call our lawyers, so that they can continue to get the sustenance that feeds their crazed demand for more rot and ruin to this great land. Be still my heart – We are a great questioning mass of humanity. And in the sense, that the body politic is starting to rise up in the realization that this too is a part of the clash of civilizations… Meaning that the social terrorism of destruction and reverberation… is building a destructive current onto the underlying themes of our lives. Do?… We run in fear- from ourselves. If? … We don’t deal with the issues of the now “pro forma” ethical question of our time. When? Do we, each, take responsibility every day for the product and the projects of our lives, and are we beholden to our God for sustenance and verity in our rendition of the the one truth. That? God is love and the truth will set you free. Let me see . I’ve thrown in everything, but the kitchen sink. I am obviously not a “professional” social commentator, but that is where my wheel has brought me this night and in the spirit of having no fear… It will be okay and for all of the thousands, who have no idea “what or where” this is – even though, you are here, then may I wish you happy and healthy and holy thoughts in the hours and days ahead. We are always in the time of God’s love. And God does love us, even though we don’t always realize or appreciate God’s patience. It is certain fortitude and the continuing flow of God’s love that informs every righteous choice we make. Go now and make peace with your life and keep up appearances and return always to what you know to be the truth. That is the end of this for now or should I delete this as I have the last few nights. If it gets posted . It doesn’t mean it’s good-Just lucky. So be it+ Whatever happens. Go in peace. Trust the Rust,cya
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Friday November 18, 2005
 Simple Words-Drawn Together-By Forces-Unseen

 

To see, To say- That I have a thought -that is here to be- what it wants me to be or say- I cannot believe… that I would will control over to an unseen or understood force that is not of me, so this must be of my heart and mind and spirit,…so it is. And now I begin and not sure where to be …I find that all is well today, as I would hope it also is with you. I had the day off and slept until a time after 10- very late for me, but I had slept on the couch last night ,so I feel or avail no bad thoughts toward anyone who would allow themselves the God given right to sleep in-even on their day off. I cleaned house and wondered why I have not gotten a reply from my son for the message I sent him, but he’s it, and also I am covered with plenty of thoughts of things to do ,but it is 38 degrees and foggy grey today… 60 miles southeast of SEATTLE. God! …Excuse me? I mean to say… Really I have things to do and I better get on it. I’ve been trying to get out of putting a new heater core in my vehicle- so now you know about my road conveyance. It is a well worn and used former police undercover car- In that it has all the residual mounts for their equipment. It has been a fine Crown Vic for 2 years, but now the list is getting longer and maybe it’s just a good summer car, which seems to be… the last time it was really running well. Don’t get me wrong. It’s safe and sound, but this new fog machine business on cold days is really just about it. One day all is well and the next day were’re driving with the windows down to equalize the cool wetness on either side of the windshield. This weekend – later – not now – that is my Project. My wife has had a very busy couple of weeks- her whole life has been busy. She plays free-cell . I’ll do this. She is quite the lady and what a humorous writer. Right now her project is getting the 5 rat costumes ready for our local version of the ‘Nutcracker’. These are worthy of Broadway or the Pacific Northwest Ballet production. She has spent a hundred hours or more on them. They will be worn by 5 adult dancers in the production… in the battle between the nutcracker prince and the toy soldiers and the rat king and his band or if another production-like last year… it was a mouse princess and her court … He’s trying to impress and protect Clare. My daughter loves the ballet and this school is very well run and their productions are top drawer …even if on a small scale. It is a great time to be a part of something so exemplary and representative of what is right with the world. And that would be true anywhere in the world where folks keep their eyes on whether.. . Is this good for the children? I will say thank you for this sight-This SITE. It reminds me that I need to get outside before dark. Love you all- Who want to be- like me- understood and appreciated for our contributions and our steadfast belief that the world is not a bad place and where it is horrible and harming – we must bring gifts that expose these crimes and criminals- warring or thieving- to further examination and reduction. The truth will set you free. Trust the Rust cya
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3 thoughts on “Megolithica-Bunches Of Oats

    • Anna Molly, I have to run as soon as I have arrived, because I spent so long… only a few moments, actually_ with G.
      I have to get this kitchen faucet put together. I need the plumbers joint tape from the shed and I don’t want to do it later, so,
      If I am short _ It is not because, I am not happy. It is good to see you. I hope all is well and beautiful. This was really early Blogstream stuff,
      but, thank you for your comment. I am gradually getting it back together… Whatever that means? You have always been so encouraging.
      I love that you are. Talk soon _I will see you then on the page before me. Rusty

  1. Hey, Rusty– I saw your note to MsMoon and thought I’d drop by and say helloooo.. I also have a page at gnostix1.tumblr.com and maintain my ongoing one at gnostix1.wordpress.com. Stop by and say hello!

    L

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