Pics of some in progress projects

These projects where made as presents given on dec. 25.

Happy Newtonmas

Today is the celebration of the berth of sir Issac Newton.  and it can be done so with a decorated tree and the giving of presents.  Or the dropping of apples.  traditions regarding this holiday haven't relay been cemented.  For me the important thing is the celebrating 

Happy Newtonmas!

I knit

A retelling of an old story

A Man Of Many Stories

      This is not a story, well I say it is not a story but that is because I have yet to get to the story part.  You see, I tell stories as a hobby but I learned the talent from my father.  And yes it is a talent which can be learned.  My father and I talk about story telling quite a lot and that is why I will tell you one.  The part of this that is a story is about a man, a simple man, which has no ego.  The story goes something like this…
      In a town not far from hear in a land very far away.  There was a young man that considered himself quite the intellectual.  He was not known to many but those that did know him called him Barry.   This was not his name but the pronunciation of his true name was too complicated for everyone ells.  So Barry the scholar was fast asleep when he had a dream that he was wining a contest.  Up with a start he proclaimed his dream to be the future.  After a while he realized that if he were to realize the dream he would have to study.  So to the books he ventured, investigating all known volumes on philosophy, psychology, theology, and cartoons, for who doesn't like cartoons.  Finally after many weeks of this he emerged disheveled and unshaven, but with knowledge he felt could rival any other. 
      On the other side of town was a man, a simple man, a man with no ego.  This man was named Nasreddin.  He was the local Mullah and went about steeling arguments as was the job of Mullah.  Though he himself disagreed many thought Nasreddin the wisest man of all time.
      Barry decided that the contest that he was fated to win was with the Mullah.  So he boasted his inelegance around the town and even set a date for the competition.  On the day the contest was supposed to be heeled Nasreddin was not to be found for he was asleep in bed.  On the next day he was also asleep in bed, but on the third day he wondered out of his house and was rushed to the contest by spectators.  Bewildered he found a seat not realizing it was the one across from Barry.  After a long silence the two men locked eyes and that's when Barry knew he would begin.  First Barry drew a cercal.  Then Nasreddin drew a line splitting it in half.  Barry pondered this and drew another line splitting the cercal into fours.  Nasreddin confused by this scratched it all out.  As the realization dawned on Barry his jaw dropped he had lost. 
      The two men went there separate ways and soon after no one saw Barry again.  But before he disappeared he was asked what it all meant.  In reply he stated that the cercal represented truth.  That the split meant there is always a lie with every truth.  That the quartering symbolized the only four truths that there are: the four elements.  Finally when the Mullah rubbed out the picture he was saying everything is nothing, and this is the one ultimate truth.  On the other hand when Nasreddin was asked what happened he simply said "He wanted a pie, I thought lets share it, but when he cut into fours I realized this is ridiculous its not real food." 
      So there you have it the true reason I like pie, because it's the one and only truth.  And that is not a story. 

More from the past

Writing is sex. Good writing is like good sex; you have that satisfied smile afterword. The act of writing is often vary hard and needs a lot of pushing to get it done. If someone gets into a writers groove then the process becomes vary carnal. The act of writing can be very pleasurable as with sex. As with the nature of sex writing begets more writing. When writing with a passion there can come a time when pressure builds up and the final release is glorified in the form of words on the page, sometimes haphazard and messy sometimes not. When the writer is charged up again then they might find the sensual nature of their work vary comforting and will enjoy returning to the task.

Prison Poem #18

Its funny how growing up I was a member of the cult of self worship.  But I always thought religion was bogus.  The thing about therapy is it can be an addiction and now that I've gone without the therapist I self analyze  Any starter in the field knows the dangers of this but its also unavoidable.  I am great-full for any outside analyses but I don't usually go searching for it. When I do its for a one of two reasons.  One to self a firm a preconceived notion, two to get an objective perspective when I know I need one.  The first happens more often and Id prefer it never to.  The second is good but sometimes I thank its my goal but I'm under a cloud of self deception. One form of objectivity I've neglected frequently, is to write down my thoughts for tatter review.  This I do often now.  I like poetry because I can express a mood or feeling and be completely subjective with out worry.  My best poems are when I'm in the thralls of a particular emotion. Such times my rational is always clouded.  At these moments my rationale mind takes a back seat.  My preferred definition of insanity is the forfeit of rational thought.  The reason I don't like Einsteins is because there are times when rational thought dictates the repetition of actions. I should write a poem that has the starting lines repeat 'the definition of insanity is' Thought Id never keep a journal because I was to afraid of what the reader would think of me.  Now I see the catharsis in realising my thoughts to paper.  Not relying on it but giving it the burden.

Prison Poem #17

To men are one man in no-mans land.
Three men are unhappy without a woman
One man is silent on the face of a woman
Pi men have theory as to what they are
One woman has power she may not use
Two are easy they fight to choose
Three women are dangerous they will abuse
Both together in symbioses fuse.

Life love and knitting

I learned to knit about four months ago.  and now I do it almost every day.  making something almost every week.  there are examples on my Facebook page.  I have been thinking about what to do with all the stuff ive made.  I think im going to start an Etsy page soon.

New!

Starting a poll that is in the corner -->
 will have it changing when i can.

Prison Poem #16

Every season has its rain. Every king has his bane.  Every man can go insane.  No one should be slain.  This is a crazy time.  All of us have committed a crime.

Prison Poem #15

"This is not a good idea" sayed the man with the gold hat, He was working on the rail lines for the subway company back in  the sixties.  No amount of shouting would dissuade Roger.  He had a job to do and he would get it done.  "At all cost." He mumbled ad he lowered the bomb into the circuit box.  If timed right the number of casualties would be one that Bob would like.  HE hoped Bob didn't punish him again for making it out of plastic.  Bob didn't like plastic it was something that Sally made.  Remembering how Sally hurt Roger made him go faster.  He missed the mettle of the circuit and detonated.  The explosion killed one.  Bob was happy with that number.  Sally asked; "Want to play another game?"

Prison Poem #14

A dialog with nobody

"Thought you were writing."
"Its not enough."
"Ha ha."
"No more."
"For now we will sing pretty little love songs."
"To much of a good thing can drive you angry.  Not that you'd knotes."
"From one to all."
"All is me."
"God is."
"Hellos welcome to reality, may I take your order?"
"This is a dream."
"Once I woke up and found that I was asleep."
"Tape this for it will not happen again."
"The, wind blows the, string sounds the, fire combusts the, field turns."
"Happy sounds make sad smells."
"From me to you with Gods love."
"She can only be one."
"Is it a loneliness that we make?"
"To me?"
"For what?"

Prison Poem #13

How in the haven can I remember that life is now but there cant be more to it than no one knows.  Life is gods walk.  True life is of death.  This is my act, your will.  You show me in discourse, visions, and repeated advice.  No man is subject to only them self.  I flower in your beautiful splendor.  Lotus, posies, tulips, gladiolus.  On harmony we strive.

Prison Poem #12

Tea is no delusion but the British forsake us

and imbeciles and gun lovers I do not party with

No I am a smart ass; which is why I hate fat

ivory; its so full of contraband   

Earth is my home don't shit on it, bitch.  

Prison Poem #11

Through the Cartesian thought experiment I can not trust the reality around me except on the assumption that it has been therefor it is likely to still be.  Statistics become the most reliable ground for truth.  Emotion throws a monkey wrench into this whole thing.

Workking!

I got a job I work twelve hour shifts! 3-4 days a week if I don't sign up for more.  I haven't been writing because there hasn't been much time at the computer.  I'm going to try to make a buffer to keep some thing going; look foreword to more prison poems.





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Prison Poem #10

Drugs are Wack

Irregular boils cover my ass.  Meth fiends are selling jewelry at a very nice price.  Crack rocks can cause cancer if your a Taurus.  Know thy self.  Gnow thy self.  Destruct attorneys play golf for friends in white hats.  No man is an archipelago.  White is the new yellow.  To much of a good thing gives my lady a hard-on.  Down with soup.  Tut-tut the king is a nudist.  Mary would you like a giro? Go to the bark and ask for your money.  That's what I'm talking about.  To much change can cause flexibility.  Yoga has a long list of side effects.  Take two and call me in the afterlife.  White powder is dangerous.  Many have tried.  One and one and one is three.  I've got blisters on my fingers.  Trust is a two way street.  How many lanes? Crazy people see the clues.  Nice try god Ill get you next time.

Fest de musik

On Sunday the fifth I went to a festival in Bethlehem Pennsylvania called musikfest.  I went to see Philadelphia Funk Authority.  It was great.  I saw them a few months ago at Mayfair.  This band is really good.  I have it on good authority that they schedule vary few rehearsals together.  Before they played I was lucky enough to be at the before party for hosted by George Hrab.  He and his friends were vary welcoming, they are some of the smartest most skeptical people in the aria.  What a refreshing change for me.  It is great to find a group that can say wait amount where is this information coming from? what is it biased on? how valid is it? I have found my tribe. 

The past year has been a life changer for me, I now have a new goal and a new set of standards and principles for myself.  With this I can be 'part of ' instead of 'solo' it makes me happy.  There was no mountain to high and no valley to low. 

Prison Poem #9

Acid Trip

Bivel balather blah. No this is your dog speaking.  Yes you are stoned.  Don't touch that lamp. Where are you doing  Tick. Tick. there's a tick in my fun.  Dose this remind youof anything? Follow me.  Down down into christmass town.  The town of mass for christ.  What is mass is it the things that take up space or a great song? Maybe there's a requiem. Tick. Tick. Tick, your late! The baby is overdrew.  Your bass is going to fire you.  What time are you on? You mist it the buffets gone.  Your late.  Where were wing wizle. A nice pint is just what I need.  Wheres the sangria? Don't ask questions your stoned.  Fear is the mind killer.  Mine is the feeler.  Theres no business like showbuziness so get up on stage and shake it.  To much of a good thing can make you love Jesus.  Christ Christi what is up with you.

I'm sinking

I feel like I'm tredding water.  Trying to get some where but losing energy and I call out for help but I don't eaven get a floater.  Its painful.  Its Scary. It makes me angry! Now You get to see me angry! I don't turn green.  I turn cold.  I calculate.  Revenge is a dish that's not easy to make.
I am looking for work anything that will help me to keep going until I can get to where I want to go.  I just hope the dour is open when I get there, assuming i get there at all.  The next days, weeks, month will be crucial!
There will be a new poem this wednesday 

Me now

I am writing this today Friday.  Usually I write things in advance, use a buffer.  But I ran into a problem at the place I'm staying and now I'm spending a lot more time job hunting.  I'm having money trouble again.  Next month I'm moving to a new place that charges weekly rent.  Without a job I wont last long.  I am searching in the Allentown aria and its tough.  I'm so tired right now its not fun. I'm going to try to keep up the regular blog schedule but I may have to drop one of the days.  Ill continue alternating between rants and poems, or at least try to.  I still have a lot more in the prison poem series. 

Worked at a fair

 

That's Ox!

I worked at the kutstown folk festival last week and it was hot.  I got some good food and met some nice people.  There was an ox roast that was delicious and a glass blower that was really cool, or hot.  The theme was heavy on Pennsylvania Dutch.  I had an exhausting time and my boss was... is looking over my shoulder. 

Motevation

Run! That's all there is. Action. The willingness to do. I am working to change my life around. I was a passive slacker. I am now trying to make every moment count but. There's still this part of me that doesn't want to Suffer now for a long term goal. There are times when I remember it's more important to put up with this now then to repeat it later. I'm trying to make those moments more frequent. I run and that helps. I do yoga and that helps. I write and thy helps. I talk to people and that helps. I try to be accountable. There's this desire to run away strip naked and frolic with out a care in the world. I couldn't  last like that. There is a different kind of peace in responsibility, this is my goal. Routine is my serenity.  

Poem #1

I'm sitting in someone elses filth not seeing my oun.
Listening to an escape not seeing it as my get high.
Running from to get fit not seeing my oun escape.
Swimming in and out of coherint thought not seeing.
Returning to my past faliurs unwilling to see the direction I'm going.
I am trying to be one of the guys but I want nothing to do with those guys.
I have to choose and make the choice over and over every moment.

A dialog with nobody

Thought you were writing,  Its not enough.  Ha ha.  No more.  For now we will sing pretty little love songs.  To much of a good thing can drive you angry.  Not that you knotes.  From one to all.  All is me.  God is.  Hello welcome to reality, may I take your order? This is a dream. Once I woke up and found that I was asleep.  Tape this for it will not happen again.  The, wind blows the, string sounds the, fire combusts the, field turns.  Happy sounds make sad smells.  From me to you with Gods love.  She can only be one.  Is it a loneliness that we make? To me? For what?

Prison Poem #8

Mrs. Brown

Sylvia,
Sylvia why do you claim so?
The truths you profess are subjective at best,debating to and fro.
Descriptions in hand miracles worked, truths proven unsure,
Sylvia you are wonderful and let you voice be pure.

Gears and Cogs

I wrote this in 09/09/09
              There was nowhere to go so she went up.  Climbing up the inside of the tower, despite Big Ben’s notoriety not many people have seen the inside.  Cogs and gears worked all around her.  It was like another world, one made of spinning mettle and whirring things of an indescribable nature.  There were two hulking behemoths chasing Jessica.   These men where vary well dressed for this sort of job.  One, the tallest of the pair, very much enjoyed green.  He wore an olive waistcoat with a forest jacket and tie.  While the other had on a very plain brown suit, he enjoyed becoming indistinguishable in the crowed though not being very successful.  These two men where hired by a very rich and private aristocrat.  They didn’t even know his name. 
              Jessica was scared, she felt as though her life was not only over but it would never have been. She didn’t know why she was being chased only that these men did not seem friendly.  The kitchen where she worked with all its hustle and bustle had a lot of gossip so when the two dapper men came to inquire about Jessica the rumor spread fast.  As one cook pout it; “When there are tall men in ominous clothing looking grim and seeming out of place; run.” This piece of advice gave Jessica a head start on her would be captors.  As Jessica quickly heard this, she wanted to get away more and more.  She was nervous not knowing where she could go. 
              Finally reaching the highest level of the clock tower she listened for the sound of the retrievers.  As they were still on their way she found no other option but to climb the clock face, a bountiful piece of new art only being installed twelve years earlier.  The hour hand was at three and the minuet hand at one.  Jessica scrambled up, quickly tiring from the ordeal.  As the fear of the situation over took her she didn’t realize how easy it was getting becoming to climb.  It wasn’t as though her muscles were becoming numb but that they were actually becoming re-energized as she climbed.  As Jessica reached the top of the tower she was practically floating not even sure how she was doing it.  Finally she looked around marveling at the urban sprawl before her.  It looked a strange but gentle monster that was hustling and bustling its way into the evening.   The city she knew as her home became a small puzzle piece in a larger mosaic of a grand London metropolis.  She wondered if the feeling she got was from the beautiful city before her of the new-found ability she possessed. 
              The men were confused as to Jessica’s escape and were apprehensive to tell their employer of their misfortune.  One said “She must ‘ave gone… Where did she go?” The other replied “Don’t think it just hurts my brain.”  Jessica on the other hand was reveling in her escape able to go anywhere and do anything.  All that cooking training for nothing but she didn’t care.  The world was hers and she would have it.  And for all the others that truly woke up that day there are stories for them too. 

Prison Poem #7

Where are you Carl Sagan, they say you are no more but then where you ever?
Why don't you answer me Carl Sagan are you to preoccupied with something else right now?
I watch you Carl Sagan and I fallow the tune of your song.
The universe is everywhere even in your cashmere turtle neck.
Nothing will stop you Carl Sagan not even the Ghost oh so Holy.
Love is many a splendid thing and you know this Carl Sagan.
you know this all to well.  Down in the depths of heaven we travel Carl Sagan.  We are like explorers of a new frontier.  Not a thought for discretion have I.  In your investigation Carl Sagan did you ever find something and regret it? Did you ever keep some truths to your self?
Where are you Carl Sagan, I need to know!

Here is my aura

Pictured using special digital caputiring hardware.

How far is the next atom over?

To quote the skeptic down the street; "how far is far?" if you try to calculate the distance to anything you have to make certain assumptions. You have to assume the space in between is the same kind of space at each point. And that's just the beginning. So how far is it to the nearest star? 4.2421 light years. How far is the nearest pharmacy? This is a little harder for me to answer. How far is it to enlightenment? This is impossible for me to answer. Here's the thing: our knowledge of the first question's answer has changed the most. Our answer to the second question has been the most relative. Our answer to the last question has, in my opinion, always lacked something. Sometimes it lacks a bases in reality sometimes it lacks a bases in thought. So how close am I to the person next to me? How far are we to our neighbor? How far are you to the ones near you? And how close are you to yourself? How close are you to the ones you love? How close are you to happiness? It's not the answer that's important but the question to be considered.

Prison poem #6

Were once wise when wing was whelp.

Don't fuck with an upright and lawful situation Mr. Government;
 for I will not stop till you are no more.
Don't fuck with my consumption of knowledge Mr. Oppressor;
 for I will use what I have to make you nothing.
Don't fuck with my pursuit of faith Mr. Dogmatic;
 for you have but an empty shell of a religion and can not concur me.
Don't fuck with threats to my life Mr. War-monger;
 for self defense means the end of your life.
Don't fuck with my bran chemistry Mr. MD;
 that's my job.

I am smart?

I am smart I have knowledge. I know a lot of facts. It's crazy what kinds of things I know or will fill in. "here's a fun fact..." would could die from boredom before I finished telling all my fun facts. I know a lot about a lot of things. I can say hello in 10 different languages. I can only speak English fluently and Spanish passingly. Me espanyole ess mui bweno en me cabesa. I know how to do a lot stuff... theoretically! I with my knowledge I can problem solve a lot of stuff even that witch I have never seen before. I offer it sometimes because I know how, or will figure out how, or will find out how, to fix stuff. I won't tell you anything you don't already know unless I do. Knowledge is not power; knowledge is potential power at best. I am freely willing to share what I have. 
I am not sure why I feel the need to complain about the fact I know something.  Its a good trait to have.  I have helped myself for the knowing of something but it when relying on just my smarts I usually haven't succeeded It takes more than knowing to win.  What is the other half of the battle?

Prison poem #5

Sum of the Parts

Two plus two equals for not that is matters why is god mad max is in thunder and lighting are scary.  Where two or more gather you have a conspiracy is the state.  None to much can I do what no.  No.  NO.  Yeah.  Feelings do not integrate with imagination.  True to form I fail.  Yell College of Music can be none to good a place for an Anthropologist.  Thrice the bell tells the time.  When we are in the place of mercy god says "to-ralu, tura-lu".  From time to time I can tell if this is real or if this is a dream but afterwords I cant remember which it is.  There is no mercy for the wise.  To much of a good thing is greater than the hole in my pocket.  For what is it that we are not or for what are we for? in the end we can not hear the devil speak for in the end we are not.  To much to much.  To much.  To much.  To Much.  Sing little birdy.  I will dance in the morning and go bad in the night.  Five times I fallow the path round and round the pentagon grove.  Flowers bloom and guns glow.  Round and Round in surceal sow.  This little piggy aught pork and glutinous was he.  I am.  He is.  They are.

Sloping falling tipping crawling

I seem to be breaking a law right now. Or to be more spasific I seem to be breaking an agreement with one governmental official to not be in sertan situations. I have a desior to disclose and a fear of repercusions so I seem to be wandering around not saying what I'm saying. Right now I'm at an art gallery oppenimg. The artest; Michael Haleta is daybewing his 'futuristic textures from the future' collection. Now that I've gotten over the anishle ness of all this I can go into simply saying that the art here is realy cool. I like the  comic deconstruction so much that I think it is going to make a splash. Futuristictexturesfromthefuture.blogspot.com

Prison Poem #4

Cramped Living Space

Frisky business strategies make a life time of success.  Why? Because no one is able to ignore sex.  All react to it.  Love, Lust, Fucking, Abstinence.  The four are all in response to sex.  Life don’t talk to me about life.  True lie’s are antithetical.  Beast breast.  Young mercenaries march maddening into the midnight melancholy.  Ferocious fangs fight frisky fluid fronts of friendship.  Error.  Error.  Recalibrating.  truth.  Doctrine.  Dogma.  Catechism.  Satan.  Laughter.  Recalibrating.  Truth.  Love.  Freedom.  Boehme.  Drugs.  Unshaven.  Tweuwy we awew the most bewtafew peopew in the howe wide wouwd! Comedy.  Laughter.  Two men walk into a bar.  There is no business.  Drenched in sweet, shaking from exertion, smiling with pride.  Wondering if I got the part.  There’s a moment when the entire world comes together to celebrate one person.  This happens to everyone more often then we notes.  Life it’s all the… Can you taste the lemon? Fruit? Bach, Brams, von Batovan, Petrovich Eliach.  One man leaves, pause for laughter.  Change channels before the commercial brake.  Cramped living space

Whats up

I have nothing pre-written for this post.  I'm writing free and unbidden that is I am not thinking about what I'm writing just, just writing.  Whats going on with me? This is a good question.  I'm currently in a program to help integrate people into productive places in society.  This sounds fancy and so dose Christian Living Program.  It is actually helpful and I am hoping that through the help of this program I will have a job, place and weekly social events.  There are some of us in this program that drag our feet when the opportunity to change, grow, or better ourselves.  The group was made up of twelve.  Some where kicked out others left, now where down to eight.  I cant think of leaving and I'm disparately afraid to get kicked out. I feel like this is my last chance to make it  and I am afraid of the the alternatives.  Its frustrating that I have the capabilities to do so much but not the skill.  Is there any work out there for a guy who can repair and fix almost any computer problem? I'm not blowing my skill out of proportion its just that most problems that come up on personal computers are fixable with a limited number of tools.  I have the tools.

Prison Poem #3

I think there for I am

I speak there for I'm heard

I move there for I'm seen

I grasp there for I'm felt

I expire there for I'm smelt

I apply there for I'm tasted

I'm heard there for I am

I'm seen there for I am

I'm felt there for I am

I'm smelt there for I am

I'm tasted there for I am

Band Review

Yesterday I saw the Philadelphia Funk Authority play at Mayfair and let me tell you they burned down the house. Tent, they burned down the tent... Or at least I think that was the source of the smoke. Maybe it was just a smoke machine. But I'm getting carded away. The band was great. Evan the sound mixer was happy to have them. From the guitar and bass to the horns and keyboard this group was incredibly funky. They relay played more than it's possible to play in one hour and fifteen minute act. The vocals. The vocals! The singing was reminiscent of James Brown and Parliament-Funkadelic. The harmonies spanned octaves to a mathematical incongruity. The were great and you can even book them for events! Check out there web site. 

Mind Stream Rant

Its funny how growing up I was a member of the cult of self worship.  But I always thought realign was bogus.  The thing about therapy is it can be an addiction and now that I've gone without the therapist I self analyze.  Any starter in the field knows the dangers of this but its also unavoidable.  I am grateful for any outside analyses but I don't easily go searching for it.  When I do its for one of two reasons: one to self affirm a preconceived notion, two to get an objective perspective when I know I need one.  The first happens more often and Id prefer it never to.  The second is good but sometimes I think its my goal but I'm under a cloud of self deception.  One form of objectivity I've neglected frequently, is to write down my thoughts for latter review.  This I do often now.  I like poetry because I can express a mood or feeling and be completely subjective with out worry.  My best poems are writ in the thralls of a particular emotion.  Such times my rational is always clouded.  At these moments my rational mind takes a back seat.  My prefers definition of insanity is the forfeit of rational thought.  The reason i don't like Einstein's is because there are times when rational thought dictates the repetition of actions.  I should write a poem that has the starting lines repeat 'the definition of insanity is...' Thought Id never keep a journal because I was to afraid of what the reader would think of me.  Now I see the catharsis in releasing my thoughts to paper.  Not relying on it but giving it the burden.

Prison poem #2

What did you say?

I hear, you listen
I whisper, you listen
I converse, you listen
I shout, you listen
I cry, you listen
I moan, you listen
I profess, you listen
I flirt, you listen
I proclaim, you listen
I confirm, you listen
I inform, you listen
I lie, you listen
I plot, you listen
I contort, you listen
I speech, you listen
I jest, you listen
I laugh, you listen
I concede, you listen
I explicate, you listen
I harmonize, you listen
thank you for listening

Philosophical argument

In the nature of human interests I think all people should die.  This is not a threat but an interest in the continuation of entropy.  In the history of this planet 100% of all living things have died.  If one were not to it would be unprecedented.  The understanding given by the law of entropy is that immortality is impossible.  All things no matter how old will cease.  Any goal for immortality is therefor ignorant.  But a goal for longevity is not.  Though to simply strive to off death is also ignorant for one must consider the condition of life.  Currently the goal of a long healthy life has not found fault.  Yet those who pursue it seem to occupy all of there tine with this pursuit.  If all time is spent staying alive and fit then nothing is accomplished for those that have good health naturally know its a means not an ends.  Being of a good and fit nature allows other things to be accomplished.  So if all effort is required to simply maintain good form then the point is moot.  There is a successful counter argument to this; If the aim is to enjoy life and obtaining good health does this then all one needs to do is obtain good health.

Prison poem #1

God is paradox
god is everything, god is nothing
god is essential, god is pointless
to fully embrace god is to embrace pointlessness and essentialness
god is beyond good and evil
god is beyond love and hate.

My Manifesto

The merits of an education are not the regurgitation of facts or the size of vocabulary but the hunger for knowledge.  Through understanding problems are fixed and arguments prevented.  Through knowledge are mistakes avoided and life appreciated.  Through education prosperity rains.  Through ignorance subjugation is enforced.  Through complacency disease festers.  Through stupidity are lies praised.  
These melodies are rampant and each one of us must act to stop the plague from coming upon us.  Seek out new and seek out news.  Find information and tell everyone about it.  Listen to others but do not correct them.  Speak truths and share in information gathering.  Spend time observing without interacting.  And teach without recognition.  Tell stories and jokes and hear them as well.  When finding inaccuracies politely correct.  If a lie is stubborn do not confront it simply speak the truth ells where.  At no point is it good to be short tempered.  Spend time sitting and thanking is silence.  Take the time to thank others.  Thank others for wronging you.  Thank others for likening you.  Thank others for being with you.  There is always another way, but not always a better way.  If help is asked for give it unquestioningly.  If help is needed give it unasked.  If help is provided ask how to assist.  Doubt is a virtue.  If questions of validity are answered growth can accelerate.  Teachers should be thanked, praised, prayed for, welcomed, criticized, and paid well.  Celebrate understanding community.  If two people who disagree are both right separate them and put them in the others place.  Gather.  Record.  Contribute.  

Words that express fealings

My Name is Legion by; Edward Sanford Martin

Within my earthly temple there's a crowd;
There's one of us that's humble, one that's proud,
There's one that's broken-hearted for his sin,
There's one that loves his neighbor as himself,
And one that cares for naught but for fame and wealth,
From much corroding care I should be free,
If I could once determine which is me.
                                       which is me?

"Regardless of the logic, if I am repeatedly doing whatever it is that I am doing, I am getting a payoff.  I will not delude myself by thinking it is not so. If I search, I will find the payoff, because it is there.  I am not getting paid off for some of my patterns of behavior I am getting paid off for all of them, every time.  I am not an exception." - Dr. Phil