Life Reasoned.

Have I told you of the monolithic nature of the human machine–the same goddamned mistakes in every season of his person, the same goddamn roads and singular sets of footprints, incapable of changing, and as much given the keys to heaven, he busies himself building his own private hell?

And even I proclaimed to be at the end of my rope.

And yet not, but for the meanness of myself to follow after, but not follow exactly that singular set of footprints–yes I was, a biological contraption, that I had noted of all biological contraptions, that we fail in reality–

I was already there, and that end of the rope that protruded into the darkness, was but the farthest segment in the story of life–not mentioning how we use our knowledge base to give ourself the cleverest of contrivances to restrain our own innate push for that leading edge.

Unless have we squelched our time in delusion,

foolish wealth, conjoined in vulgarity to foolish ease,

our senses suffer long as we are

as satisfied and free as the wildest volunteer flowers and trees.....

Accursed is the Great Wheel

from its boundless nature

and ourselves, pockmarks upon it–

how every go 'round thrashes us–

I was talking about storing recipes. And why?

For all knowledge kept in time, in memory, it solves none of our worries, but only if utilized appropriately.

What the f*ck, dude