Men can be sure of little, the problem is evil,  Silly men fill silly seats, many fraud time. I remember us in that  band room, always loud; and the cheery moments that were going on regularly each Thursday night. Collective personal moments we shared in common after work. The plain man's interest in philosophy is practical. It is a Muse, wanting to know what is the value of life and how to act accordingly. We'd  play  sock ball in the warehouse, laughing our heads off for hours and then with our instruments, sing, playing music for the rest of the night in this Earthly space. Thursday nights were always cool. Sticky brown carpet covered the walls, loud music was played to the max & I wondered about the greatness of our Improvised moments. Ash,  beer, spray can art covered the room; that Haight & Ashbury madness. It was  the stories he created about everyone to justify an existence that is perturbing.   Distorted stories of  everyone else condemned his mind for some pragmatic reason. Drama is relative to need where Philosophers use a toothache as their examples and I'm a little teary looking back of the injustice that had come from his opinions.   My conception of substance thinkers and substance extended were one and same. However things weren't what they seemed since Swine Flu took over our business. The Molto Ego is....The sea of gold can't be blind, I had found disappointment looming.

The "The Big Chill " had set into our business when Mr. Piggy arrived and the turnover dived. I had my full share of the intellectual arrogance of others wisdom and as I hope, I have lost it. I told the manager of affairs that "You'll be running this business one day"   If I only knew  what a Poet he was.  Guess you were given away like an old door Mat.  I have had the time recently to wonder if people are real anymore, Emotion & Pity seems to be on display a lot these days for unscrupulous reasons and I understand now that the truth is only conceived as opinions for reasons I could not comprehend. Of course I will never feel entirely my self till my Children awaken to this Drama. A Poet's emotion is specific, a poet's rather than a man's, and it is never quite disinterested. That is why Women with their instinctive common sense have so often found the love of poet's unsatisfying. I'm assured now that freedom can only be found within. I had heard three great stories this one particular week and life for me was very good. I recall this great looking Woman welcomed me into her new  showroom.  We took a test drive together in a  XKR supercharged V8 Jaguar that I fancied and as I drove I mentioned to her of the great week I was having, with the stories I'd heard of personal triumph and the great collective moments that only brought much happiness into my recent life. 

Well she said,   "I have just found my father  alive after 28 years"  Mother had portrayed Dad as less that satisfactory which I thought was reality, she had said and he was a Womanizer. Anyway this sales lady was traveling  to  France soon to meet her Dad again after all this time.  Mr. Piggy would soon be traveling to England also to see his real Mother  too. OO - OOO   I thought? Great Drama? tender moments in these tender times, Magically somehow,  she had found the truth of her Father's love once more?   Her mother had  portrayed many lies about the Old Boy; but the Opinions had only formed from scorn, that she told him to go... because? I though of my own situation, the buckles can't hold, so release. She had said that "my Dad was an old muse, a bit of a Gypsy, a rogue.   Mother had said that he was a drug addict..... he should Get a Job "  It went on and on throughout a life. The real truth is always discovered though,   Isn't it?   I mean Karma does repay its debts sooner or later; the sea of gold can't be blind.

I asked her "does she sleep well?" Not really she said. Then she mentioned two words,  "Conditional love"  

This Lady had told me that in her quest to find Dad,  she knew that love never hurt, it had never caused the problems of of her relationships. The whole business would have been plain sailing she said if not for the susceptibilities of her Mother who served as a model citizen in authoring this tale. It was an awakening that I understood straight away and for me was sublimation away from this rhetorical world,  teaching a greater enlightenment that was plausible.  So I had two people in this one week I speak of with great stories of emotional triumph. And then, I had heard that my friend Ungus had found his long life love,  Patience.   

Well I thought, Mr. Piggy finding his Mum, Ungus finding his soul mate and well, this Sales lady finding Dad. Three stories that became a good starting point to reflect on the unknown qualities of life. The matter I discuss was only made opposite in intent for them by the swine who, with malicious indignation, offer them feigned sympathy for a created outrage they had somehow suffered at my own hands;  as less than favorable stories started appearing within our circle of business. Vanity is all that the poor drab suffers as his own life is so empty that,  he could deliberately identified  with a creature of Odious character in order to give others a sprinkle of the petty motions. I remembered of how Patience had written such a great lyrics during this same week. "If I  knew you"  and of how Mr. Piggy's egotism had stood at the mike & read the lyrics aloud to the band members.  It was joyously funny of how he had cried like a baby. I'm sick thinking that we hugged him genuinely with  joy, but then,  we didn't treat anyone like a door mat and your forgiven? The gift of friendship from really  genuine People and I knew how hard good friends were to find. Great moments in time.

We know very little even of the Person's we know most intimately. We don't know enough to transfer them accurately to the pages of books to make Human beings of them.  Looking back on that week I do smile about the treasured moments that occurred in that band room but I ponder,   If I knew you.......