85% of Blogger Posts are read becuz of a GOOD TITLE: this is NOT a good title, and is probably the worst title of any kind EVER MADE, and a even worst example of a person who over indulges in The Cult of The Title, it's so bad, why are you even still reading this disaster of a Title, you still have to suffer through the main body of the work, I am sorry. But why doesn't this damn title have a MAX character limit cuz then I obviously I would of stopped by now, and why the fuck are you still reading this Title?

   

     In a Leonard Cohen song, he darkly assures the listener to:

`Forget your perfect Offering; There is a crack in Everything. That's how the Light gets in.'

      Being a fan of his, I am just going to trust him. 

     Because even though everyone is saying this is UNPRECEDENTED TIMES, we never seen such a thing before, the collective minds of a section of society DOES remember MANY OTHER times, and it always gets hidden, that is, we always seem to FORGET. Just like Richard always does. 

     THIS IS HISTORY, WE NEVER SEEN THIS BEFORE, and many other epitaphs that anyone can simply hear repeated on spin cycle from any and all corporate news outlets, local, national, even your mom and dad enjoy using these buzz words also. But we ALWAYS HAVE LIVED in these times, DON'T YOU REMEMBER? I won't even waste your time or space here to elaborate, because my faithful reader, YOU KNOW. 

     

     Sadly none of these things are true. Our system see's more DOWNS then UP'S. IT was designed this way, or maybe it was hopeful to actually work one day, who knows. But all the Capitalist's always say the same things, WE SEEN THIS FOR AGES, IT'S JUST PART OF THE PROCESS, WE WILL ALWAYS SEE UPS AND DOWNS, I AM OLDER THEN YOU SON, WE HAVE SEEN THIS BEFORE, LUCKILY YOUR MOTHER AND I HAVE USED OUR SMARTY PANTS TO SHIELD OUR RICHES FROM THESE CONSTANT BLOWS, WE ADMIT THIS, BUT WE LOVE THE SYSTEM, WE LOVE OUR BIG PILE OF MONEY, IT'S GONNA BE YOURS ONE DAY AND YOUR SISTER'S IF ANYTHING IS LEFT AFTER WE BLEED IT DRY TO LIVE CUZ WE KNOW THE HEALTH CARE IS EXPENSIVE AND WE WANT TO LIVE FOREVER, AND LIVE IN A NICE NURSING HOLE (HOME) NOT LIKE THE ONE'S THAT SMELL LIKE DEATH ANS SHIT AND PISS LIKE WERE GRANDMA DIED,  SO WHATEVER THOSE SAINTS DON'T GET, YOU AND YOUR SISTER WILL GET THE REST OF THOSE SACKED COINS. AS LONG AS ANYTHING IS LEFT THAT IS. 

     And you wonder why your parents are saying exactly what your saying, but just in a more ignorant way, they know the system is FUCKED, YET CIRCUMVENT IT AND PREPARE FOR ALL THE DOWNTRODDEN NEGATIVE CASH FLOW TIMES, cuz they know in there hearts of hearts, that IT'S REALLY FUCKED UP, WE JUST LIKE TO SAY IT'S OK AND SMILE THROUGH IT UNTIL WE DIE. LONG LIVE CAPITAL!!! long live my father, as he always desired his CAPITALIST PUNISHMENT, cuz he grew up POOR AS FUCK, and when he was 7 years old shined shoes for a NICKEL. And gave all the money to MOMMY, who would SKIP MEALS to feed him. THE MOST SUCCESSFUL BUSINESS CAME FROM POVERTY, WE KNOW THIS.      Bless my father, he always took care of my Grandma, his mother, he spent whatever money in his later years to make sure she always had a roof and food, he really was a Communist sometimes, when it came to his mother, she might not have everything, but GOD DAMN IT, he always made sure she lived in a free home, does this factor into the equation of why we LUST for wealth? Because for GENERATIONS we have ALL SUFFERED? 

The same old story, just a new story teller.

      But many of US don't forget, we know. We know. 

     The minds of wavering Americans also seem to forget economic tragedies, one after another, and it's also blamed on this or that, a war, a crash, a virus, a simple bleep that was unseen and, please don't worry, it's just an invincible defeat, hold strong, wait and suffer through it, we are, after all, Strong Americans, we WILL recover, TIME AND TIME AGAIN. OVER and OVER again! 

     We so strongly march back into line, and accept a thousand stinging kisses, so deep, that at times it shakes our Patriotic skins to the core, yet, unique to Americans (AND TO OTHER HUMAN BEINGS UN-AMERICAN)  we are as unfledging AS EVER. A mass of red white and blue bleeding NATION, we seem to emerge from EVERY punch given to the jaw line. 

     Like Rocky Balboa, rising his fists in the air, proudly covered in blood, and wearing his American flag boxer trunks, spitting a tooth out, and wiping the blood away, WE EMERGE!!! 

     The Nation that is the people who make up the imaginary Nation, THOSE FALSE LINES IN THE SAND. 

      The ones who also tell dark and deep stories that seem to conflict that ever gleaming American Dream that has been beaten into us since childhood. The dream we never seemed to fall asleep to dream, the dream that we seem to slumber too long to ever have, to ever reach REM to even have a chance to dream. The forgotten American Dream that was just a shitty diner somewhere in the Nevada desert, the dream served from a aging prostitute from Vegas who got run out of town a few decades ago. That's the dream. Because to be living it, you have to be ASLEEP.    

     The issue is, this constantly happens over and over and over and generation after generation after generation, Capitalism is forever flawed to crash like this, it's the fault of the system it employs. And uses DISASTERS to mitigate the fears and loopholes, AND EXCUSES. to keep you a loyal nationalist flag waving fool.  It benefits some, and exalts failure to the masses. 

CALL ME UN-AMERICAN, CALL ME A HATER OF OUR GREAT LAND; I WILL softly tell you, your full of shit, and to wander back to EARTH's soil, and proudly remove your HEAD from your stinky red, blue, and white shit stained ass, and then your shoot me with your legal gun and tread on me like the snake you ARE. THAT'S WHY JESUS wont come back, he rather stay in HEAVEN, where it's safe. if we are lucky, WE MIGHT GET A IOU out in the mail one day, as long as the USPS can survive it's death rattle that is.

     

     But why I am even talking about such things? YOU DEAR GUEST OF MINE, DEAR READER, already know these things, but like a broken Leonard Cohen vinyl record, warped by the heat, by the HOT SUN, left alone to bake in a 4 door Sedan. it just skips and plays the same chorus over and over again. YOU KNOW THE SONG, AND IT'S MUSIC TO YOUR EARS, because we were conditioned to hear such foolish repetitiveness as JOY and JUBILATION, otherwise, you might have to deal with waiting in line for a simple roll of toilet paper or a small box of food............THERE IS A CRACK IN EVERYTHING. THAT'S HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN. Maybe one of these Decades we might open our ears of old WAX and actually listen to the ENTIRE ALBUM.  

     

       The Story of Richard.

     I live in a area of town, that is like a so-so area. It's a OLD part of town, mostly the home's are 1950's, and new home's are considered to be in the 1970's to 1980's range. Its quite endearing.  A few blocks ONE WAY you enter POVERTY. Go the OTHER direction, THE FAKE MIDDLE CLASS (shrouded in SLIGHTLY LESS poverty) that's where I live, about a 10 minute walk to the beer drinking pot smoking brown people who gamble there government checks away PLACE, I visit them on THEY'RE TURF, but they never come to MY TURF. The MIDDLE part of the TOWNSHIP, it scares them as the people are too mixed here. ONE neighbor loves you, one HATES you, so we live in secrecy.  2 blocks from MIDDLE CLASS town is haphazardly the edge of the polluted St. John's River, here if you have a castle next to this polluted river pond of PROGRESS, you have a big shitty house worth a million or two, usually in dire need of update and repair. This is all in a span of 3 blocks. It's like Redeeming The Land With Your Blood, Paying The Supreme Price For Freedom, Above All Men, I am Proud to Say I am an American. WHAT THE FUCKING HELL WAS THAT? 

     A few blocks one way we have projects, and all the horrors and pleasures that go with those areas of town. it's not bad, many other parts of town are far worse by all means, but Jacksonville is inherently ghetto by nature, much like Tampa or any other part, once you pass the FAKE shit, and get down and into GRIT and the PEOPLE, who actually live in REAL places, not sectioned off in gated golf communities, the places were you and I would be arrested for just looking poor,. NO, the rest of Florida, the REAL part, the part not crowed by tourism, commercialism, and protective gates. Where you can go, and pretty much be the only white person hanging out, and at first not a single soul will trust you. in these places, you must prove yourself, it's part of the way things work here. But once you do, your just as much as a fabric of community as a potted plant. You can hang with good folks and watch them bet endless dollar bills away on the roll of the dice against the side of a dirty curb, drink shitty beer, and  

     WHAT ABOUT RICHARD???

     YOU GOT ME HERE. I hoodwinked you and just typed a bunch of nonsense TO FILL space, but this place is a part of town, where the real poor folks live. It's also where Richard lives. He doesn't have a clue about anything or anywhere, or poverty or riches, he is the smartest man on Earth. he lives in a place that is no different than HOME A, B, OR C. To SIR RICHARD, everyone is equal, nobody is different, let me tell you why, and why it's so beautiful, yet he lives in a complete mormal American SLUM.   

     He is the nicest human being I have EVER met, unlike me, who PUMPS YOU FULL of needful propaganda, so don't listen to me, listen to Richard, cuz he is a GODDAMN SAINT. Maybe a few of us could learn from him.  

LET ME EXPLAIN.    

     

     The first time I saw Richard was at the Dollar place. I saw him wandering around here and there BEFORE. But finally saw him for who he was at the local food desert. He looks older then he probably is. A man in his late 50's, but because of sub par grooming skills, appears to be in his late 60's perhaps because he is a CHILD AT IS CORE HEART INSIDE HIS CHEST. 

     DOWN THE WAY, a place called the Arnette House resides societies forgotten few. Many VETS who lost there minds in Vietnam, the place where folks have house keys around cotton strings afixed around the necks, for they don't lose the key to the only home they have to call, well, HOME. The crazy people they are called, they walk up and down the sidewalks, chain smoking outside, and are afraid of shadows for good reasons. 

     Richard lives in between, not crazy enough, but crazy enough to live on his own, away a few blocks from these last places of (IN)sanity.

     The Dollar Place lets these folks kinda hang around out of pure compassion, they many times open the door for you, welcome you, and make you feel uncomfortable, cuz they are not workers of this Dollar Desert. Many times I see this Richard, and many others, but Richard catches my short attention span. 

     Finally one day Richard is ahead of me in the waiting line, getting a lot of groceries, more bags he could possibly carry, he is a apologizing wreck of a man, totally unprepared and always forever apologizing for no reason for every movement he makes, even though he did or has done no wrong, everybody is sweet and accommodating to him the best they can. He barely gathers his things up after needing help paying for them, he really has no clue what he is doing. I quickly paid for ny stuff, and poor Richard has walked 3 foot from the cashier and is totally lost as how to get all this shit he just bought home, which mind you, is literally across the street. He is truly a small boy in need of help.

And said: 

  

'Richard, do you need some help getting home brother?'

he looked up at me in pure amazement, and said:

`do I know you? how do you know my name?!'

I said, 'Richard, I have been coming here for a long time, and we have talked before many times, I live down the road from here, we actually kinda know each other.'

he replied: 'WE DO?! (big smile on his face) You mean WE meet BEFORE?!'

"yes Richard, many times, do you need some help with your stuff? My truck is out here, i can drive you home, you have a lot of stuff, and have to cross 4 lanes of traffic, and i could help if you want?'

'OH BOY, YOU WOULD DO THAT?! I mean, is it ok?' He said in glee and speculation.

'yes Richard, its ok,  let me grab a few bags, its ok, come on lets go!;

with a big smile on a old mans face, he looked like a CHILD, and said with such ethiumaism, 'OK LETS GO!'

the following is RD for Richard, and RYE for Ryan, to make it easier;

RD: is this your big truck? by the way my names Richard! I live across the street, is this ok? am i ok? is this ok Ryan?

RYE: yes Ricahrd, i have seen you many times, I always said hello.

RD: YOU DID!? You really always said hello to me? I am so sorry I never remember stuff sometimes, is this your truck? is this ok? 

RYE: YES my friend, its ok, (open back doors) here put your stuff in here.

RD: OK, in here? i am gonna put my stuff over on this side, and you put your stuff on that side, cuz we dont wanna get our stuff mixed up, i really love my cereal.

RYE: Its ok buddy, my stuff is on this side, and your stuff is over here, see? Nice and safe and sound.

RD: OK Ryan! that's good, cuz i got lots of snacks! Did you mean it when you said you were my FRIEND?

RYE: well of course Richard! I sure did buddy! Now follow me and let me unlock your door for you (opens passenger door) here ya go, this your seat here.

RD: THIS IS MY SEAT IN YOUR BIG TRUCK RYAN?!

Rye: You bet buddy! Make sure you put your seat belt on.

RD: Oh I will definitely do that, I never rode in such a BIG TRUCK before this is cool!

Rye: Well today's your lucky day Richard!

As we drove along, he told me about how he loved God very much, and he wished everyone would be like Jesus, even a little bit, and that Jesus was nice, and people still did bad stuff to him, but he never was mean, even though maybe he should of been, cuz that stuff wasn't fair. Richard is a fucking bonafide mystic, sear, sage, and a fucking stupid genius! I felt honored to be in his presence, as we drove to his little government dwelling in the part of town that was not so good. I even said to myself, I hope nothing or nobody ever harms or hurts or takes advantage of this sentient being. These people are the REAL treasures of society, the ones we need to exalt upon thrones and make sure NOBODY ever hurts them, true uncut gems.

Just then a short silence, and then with a little sadness in his eyes he said:

'You know, I try to work, I really do, it's pretty hard to get a job, I had a job once though.'

I said: 'oh yeah? what happened?'

"The guy told me I was stupid, and really dumb, do you think I am a idiot?"

If one ever was hoping for a DADA moment, this definitely was one of them, of course you can't be playing around like that with Richard, he didn't have that level of understanding, he was 9 or 10 years old trapped forever inside a old mans body.

"excuse my language Richard, but FUCK THAT GUY! Your not stupid, he just didn't know what to do with you, and that's his loss, not yours! Besides Richard, you don't need to worry about working."

'But I wanna contribute! I like to work!'

Once again it was so sweet, this man was Jesus. I envied him, he was a true natural genius.

We got to his worn down slum hut, and he almost walked away without his groceries, our chatting must of distracted him, I opened the side door, he got his stuff, and we said our goodbyes. I don't like many humans I meet, but Richard is unforgettable, and I wanted to adopt him as my son. 

(mind you this is a grown man in his middle to late 50's, he is totally a child of about 12 or 13 years old, maybe that's a stretch, Richard could be very well mentally be about 9 or 10 years old, it was so beautiful yet it was so sad, but it wasn't his fault, so why is it sad? cuz most people don't have the bliss he has? That he sometimes misunderstood? 

     Sometimes you can tell he skipped his medications, whenever Richard wasn't on his MEDS he was a nervous wreck, i have had to talk him down a few times, unfortunately he always forgot who I was, and we had to re connect and I had to dig his memories out of his brain for him. Many times he never made that connection, and acted like a wild animal, and TRUSTED NO ONE. Obviously he over spent his money that month or a lapse in his benefits, Ii am sure he forgot endless things and didn't get his meds and it was clear it wreaked complete havoc in his life. 

     Ever since I drove him home, I would always say hello to him, he would just give me a perplexed look and say, 'DO I know YOU?' 

'Yes Richard, I drove you home one time with all your groceries, remember?'

'NO, but if you say so, I am sorry, I am so very sorry, I am having trouble and I forget, do you have a dollar?'

     

     One time I was in line, and he was ahead of me, he was having a real tough time, he was falling to pieces, he needed his MEDS, and he was just constantly apologizing and then looking back at the line of dumb impatient robot people and agonizing about how long in line he was taking, nobody gave a shit, so I spoke up, 

    'Richard, it's going to be ok, just take it slow, ok?'

"Are you sure, are you sure it's going to be ok? I am not making anybody mad am I? I am sorry. I am so very sorry, I have trouble sometimes, I don't know, I......'

 "YES Richard! Just remember to stay calm, whats wrong?"

"how do you know my name? thanks for helping me, i am so sorry.'

     And I would proceed to help him, why he is asking if it's ok, and that he was really sorry, apparently he was having issues with the blasted stupid soda machine, that stupid thing never worked at that store properly, and damn the cashiers for not helping Richard, they hate they're jobs, they hate they're life's.      

     

     It was just about one month he was off whatever he needed to stay functional, whatever was going on worked itself out, from then on out, he always seemed level and balanced, thank the heavens, as it always made me fill with anxiety for the poor man, he was worrying about not a damn thing even worth worrying about, and it caused him much grief.  Then one day he wanted a bag of chips, I said my usual hello and with the sweetest look on his face, like a child, he asked if i could buy him this bag of chips and he will pay be back (he never was going to pay me back) I said sure, once again we went through the normal, who are you, do I know you stuff, and I once again explained, he sometimes hangs out at the Dollar Place, probably out of sheer loneliness for another human being. they treated him nicely and would let him open doors for the customers and ramble about his favorite tv show. The cashier said, 

Richard, you don't remember this man and he gave you a ride home? 

I said 

thats ok, Richard is a great guy, I love saying hello to him, 

he collected his bag of chips, asked once again, if it was ok, and left. 

     The next time I saw Richard, a few weeks later, I once again said my obligated hello to him (i am not exactly a hello kinda of guy to other humans, so when I do say hello, god damn it I mean it) 

   To my baffling surprise, like it was completely natural, he said,

'HEY RYAN!"

I couldn't believe it, HE REMEMBERED ME after all these years! I dont have kids, but when they achieve greatness, and you get that awesome feeling inside, this must be what parents experience, a sense of pride of accomplishment, even a little one. 

'Richard!'  I exclaimed, 'You remembered my name!"

'Oh course I do! How could I forget you!'  (what a comic genius!) 'Do you have a dollar?'

And from that day on, he also remembers my name now, I am not sure what exactly switched on in his brain, but I had finally been logged into his synapses and neurons.

I also thought, poor Richard sometimes, he was on the CUSP. JUST sane enough to be able to do most things by yourself, and also on the verge of not being able to do ANYTHING for one self, caught in the middle of the road in the system of total lack of mental illness awareness and treatment, most of the time functional, as long as everything worked in his favor, sometimes a complete SCHIZOID or TOTAL CALM. 

     A true hell, he circumvented clearly on his on. Life coaches sparsely applied here, and many probably gave up, moved on or retired.  But when he is on his MEDs, he is a perfect little boy. I love this man(child) he has no real idea of anything, very little, yet functions better than a guy with a MBA from college. perhaps even better than the most educated men in America. And he never has to worry about much, he doesn't read the news, he doesn't care who the President is, he just wants his snacks and a little soda pop. a timeless being that only I perhaps wish I could be, mindless, ignorant, BLISSFUL. As long as you keep giving me my MEDS that is. 

`Forget your perfect Offering; There is a crack in Everything. That's how the Light gets in.'

Long hail King Richard, the boy KING OF ARLINGTON!