these are things that I don't understand.

i wake up every morning with a longing to set the world on fire with my myriad ideas and yet I chase very few of them, in fact I chase none except the continual fantasy that is Jobe's world.......who does have time, though? Who would have time to chase every end that materialized in an instant of supposed revelation and dissipated at the distraction of a phone call or a car drifting into my lane.......I'd love to chase a butterfly into the vast expanse, plunging into the chaos of a world outside of corporations and conglomerates, with only a pen in my hand and a notebook by my side, all life's events and travel taken in stride, discovering the future, uncovering the things I just don't understand.


Finished The Brother's Karamzov last night: a story of loss, jealousy, supposed retribution, brain fever, questions of god's existence, mother Russia, the galloping troika........too bad I didn't write more book reports as a child......faith sets us free from the bondage of human interactions....i can only imagine how different the book would be if DNA testing had been around to proove Dmitri's innocence....to prove that Smerdyakov was as big a bastard as Ivan knew him to be.....even the fantastical can be realistic if broken down into a chain of disparate events......and yet tainted opinions and collective judgement prevail as the will of the people, the people, one pawn falling/conceding to the will of another and so on and so forth until there can be no other way, man is guilty and shall be punished....ignorance is bliss, ignorance is ubiquitous.....

ignorant to my own stifling progress, stumbling face first through a past I fear to unearth.

whoisjobe?