Competition for my attention  – AOL Radio on iPad, RedBox at Walmart, free Amazon movie/TV rentals for prime members on PC, my wife’s Angry Birds playing, Destination Truth in Ireland “Live” on SyFy TV, our sick cat.

Sit down with a tall shot of Bushmills and think in this space.

Allow distractions/diversions in small quantities.

Perform to myself at my own pace.

Bela Fleck in Africa and Moody Blues in America playing in my thoughts.

Do I give volume to the voices of everyday life, like the server with 25 years of waiting experience who wouldn’t step foot in Cracker Barrel again because eating one biscuit there marks a worker as a thief, their profit margin model is screwed down so tight?  Or CC who rides a blowup plastic walker on her 50th?

If we’re willing to be victims of circumstance, can I forgive myself for creating circumstantial victims?

Can I be envious and jealous of everyone and no one?

Ten million comedians out of work – no need for me to be wise or crack a joke, eh?

Did you have a creative imagination as a child that was encouraged or discouraged by family/friends?

Are you perfectly aware of the influences upon your thoughts?

Do we have any thoughts at all?

Are we but electroidneurochemical junctures?

Does plagiarism exist?

I’ve never expected anyone to follow these thought trails because they are but the superficial evidence of my existence.

Nary an original thought in this noggin.

Circles and spirals conspiring and cooperating.

An ant lion waiting to catch a moray eel.

Are you sympathetic or hostile to a lifestyle because you lived and grew up in it?

Free of all but the desire to be free?

When you’ve tasted them all and none are tasty but life with your wife is the best comfort food, settle down for a lifelong meal.

Nothing exists, including me.

This is the only illusion I can verify its falsity.

No need to build moneymaking vanity-inflating fantasies.

Domesticated.

Beware the caged roar of the declawed beast.

I’m told it’s called happiness.  I have no comparison to verify its veracity.

I can sit down and listen/watch the imagination play out in my thoughts.

It’s who I’ve always been.

The hermit lost in his thoughts.

Who I’m meant to be.

Slightly rough around the edges.

A soft heart.

Hard of hearing.

Aging, if not aging well.

Well-aged.

Comma,s whos, and whoms losing significance.

Language an artificial construct that’s unnecessary for an active thought set.

Free to dream.

No extra charge.

Preposthistoric.

The bag of tricks spilt, no crying for tears bored out of the head.

Follow along if you like, but don’t be surprised if the path disappears in front of you.

I challenge you to make the most of yourself because I know you can.

Like I’ve said, these words are stage props, not crutches to prop you up.

I don’t need a cent from you to tell you what you already know about yourself – get your retail therapy fix from someone else more moneyminded than me.