theiciclegardenblogs

Retro- reflection: you are coming into contact with another situation, individual. You form some form of opinion in your mind's eye; you projected your estimation of this person; you set the stage before you knew what  their potential was, to be performed. This is your prejudice against their performance. You are negative on the positive side of creativity. The problem is that this prejudice you feel toward another is reflected back upon your own self-worth, placing you in your own subservient prison. You self destruct your own argument. It is the sweet -spot because you do not realize that you are working against your self, foolishly. It is all in how you play the game: for example or counter example, when you position yourself to react instead of lead -the defense is than predicated upon seasoning the context. Here is the story: you have four positions to choose from, you occupy one and assign one to another encounter; you occupy your space in a passive manner so as to expose the

Help, helpless, helplessness is all about your approach to the situation. It is all contextually manifested according to how you process information. Another way to qualify is to say -how you learn. Now, in my case, I have this theory about learning how to be helpless by allowing others to solve your problems because they are obviously smarter than you. It has to do with self-image. What I'm saying in my way of character trait: You never want to be the center of attention even on trivial tasks so you separate from others living a more solitude life style. I just believe that because society is becoming more stratified as to who will actually be a participant in forming society's mores. In my opinion the only way to learn is through participation. OK! Vicarious learning is "cool" but, it could be a pathway opening for the passive aggressive addiction; meaning, you are afraid of failing because you were subdued. The neighborhood that you came out of did not nurture you;

OK! When you blog as I do, you meet the truth along the way. You get comments from those who read what you write:  "I liked your writing. I connected with it at every level. You don't have to be a felon in the good ole USA to be treated like an unimportant member of society. You could simply B me." by DJ  Also, in particular I might say, I love his word string on himself: "I am the utter embodiment of what men fear most, love, sexuality, anger and intelligence.I am not a mad dog, but I do bite. I question, is my dog just like me, or am I just like my dog? I have been a WMD." by DJ.  So, what is the truth? Well it could be that that "depends on what the meaning of 'is', is." We all remember our hero: Mr Clinton, a true Mr! Anyway, The reason that I'm calling for a felon's union is so that the felon is not crucified. The world knows that the felon is and has always been crucified because the church wants to be able to offer "redempti

There was this "moment"  I'm not defining it only recanting it. It was in my mind a responsibility because I was the moment. Let me paint a picture, you're in the bay on a sail boat; there are maybe several hundred sail boats anchored in the bay, plus one or two major toys were there as well, big boats. You leave your boat and motor off to some cove forming around pleasuring your essences with alcohol and music, doing that dance that only they can dance to -you know what I mean. OK on the way your mind observes the lay of the bay according to the lay of the boats at that moment. Now, because they are boats they bob and sway around their anchor line. This shifts the boat's position so that it can be at any spot within its radius around the anchor. So that, when you are returning from your journey through the evenings offerings, you are "fucked up." But, you get in your dingy anyway and dingy into the unknown -unless your boat is lit up in some very origin

Reality is on the rise; it is still passing me by; I cannot get a good handle on whether I'm happy or sad about this situation. So what do you think about this reality based conundrum as far as your state of mind is concerned? Right! You do not give a flying fuck because reality has nothing to do with the way you process life's ins and outs. You are a member of the solipsistic mind set; therefore, you do not give a shit about how others might view their world. Others are either with you or they are against you which just could leave you as usual in the dark. Right? For example, it is better for you if you keep in lockstep with the prevailing christian dogma of -kill the prick and let him find justice in the fluffy white world of the religious right's picture of St. Peter at the pearly gates of heaven. Yes, St. Peter will put the final stamp of innocent or guilt on those of whom you chose to judge. So that you can in your carefree way continue to battle as the Shiite a

Good morning ya’ll. So! Here I am at the marina, the Moorings on the island of Tortola.   All I have to do is wait for the captain to show up. Yes! It is 11 am; he will not be here until 5pm. So if you throw in a few curve balls in the form of alcohol whatever’s; then I’ll be on the water, out on the high seas again. Who gives a flying fuck anyway? Right! You don’t; most likely your neighbor does not either. So who does?   The only one that I know of is the captain, Captain Fred. Because -when he is not on the boat- he is just another husband. Usually this means that he could be considered just a common stowaway. But, if you will, please do not tell Fred, OK.   Also, this island is just so not clean. It smells of pollution. Yet, at the same time, this is where you pick up the sailboat, hopefully the mosquito does not know that you are in town; for, they are lethal this year because they are carrying some ugly shit. They say it is just as bad as dengue fever from Africa and South

The only way that they will know is if "you get angry." Otherwise you will not have any political leverage, meaning -social capital. For example, when I was leaving the British Virgin Islands yesterday on my way to the U.S. Virgin Islands, I had to pass through customs twice, going both ways, in and out. I had to follow the law, even if they did not.  It is homeland security at its sweet-spot - They can and will fuck with you. I have been going through this process for the past 25 years. What do I mean: Homeland Security came into play.  When we got off the boat from Tortola, a British Virgin Island,  the customs officers pulled me out of line and told my wife to wait. They nearly give her a heart attack. She has to drag all of our luggage through customs by herself; they could not give a fucking ounce of compassion for another person. Meanwhile, they place me in solitary confinement and observe me through their two way mirror; this could take up to an hour or more. Yes, duri

She did it again. It is the truth. She always finds a great little nest when we take a vacation -whatever. I'm now dockside on the island of Tortola, British, VI. This place is like so cute; I'm going to like this. Our nest is over looking the Moorings, a cluster of sail boats where in two days hence I will rendezvous with friends and sail out of the harbor to who knows where. Road Town is just too developed for me. No Mann! I'm no island Mann here. But, the most unique thing: they did not fuck with me as I went through customs. It must be the islands, Mann. Otherwise, Interpol just loves to crawl up into the crevasses of my -undies. For example, last year clearing customs on my way to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico they kept me tied up in the terminal so that they could make sure that there was no way for me to get to the free drinks at the reception stand for your favorite time share tour. Fuck! I really do love taking those walks through la la land with the Dream Merchant. Anyw

Yes Mann... I'm in the islands. Mann! You see, things happen to you when you get here. Well it's an island thing they say.  It is some thing like this -You want to sell all of your shit and start over fresh. Like Mann! Life: It is here and not there; give that shit up, bend over and touch your toes, feel the freedom of not being someone else's prey. It all starts when you step off of the terminal in the harbor into the waiting arms of Freedom: I call it the "black pearl" for it represents freedom won from the revolution. It is set in black beauty - its horn rings out and call for freedom. Will you answer the call and go Island, Mann? You know! Do the island thing for a while, try it on like a suit of clothes and see how it fits, Mann. Will you than sell all of your shit back on the main land; dive in as only you can.  Or will you be held back from spreading your wings because of some perceived sense of loyalty. As for my self, money rules because I have expenses a