Staring Backwards

Looking back, now, has to do with a sophisticated consciousness, Hitler himself engineered, most likely, in the same bunker he used to slaughter, destroy and rid evil from his vile servants, uploaded onto every communication option, downloaded across internet systems and called China and Russia and Iran and North Korea, but not the United States of America and not freedom to live, or die.

Now, the year 2020, in comparison to 2003, when I started this journal to help get over my tiny baby dying and a lack of education, looks, feels and even tastes similar to a video game with no lives remaining, no continues left to do the right jump next time and a lot like New York City in the 90’s.

Too exciting, brilliant beyond comprehension, scary with lots of people and no more quarters to call home in the long ignored piggy bank.

Stare at a gender neutral human long enough and have behavior or any number of other naturally occurring gestures, however, and whoalah back to now, in front of some body nearly unrecognizable twenty years ago, sitting next to a NAVY veteran who proudly talked about America, with his mixed Mexican-Pale White family in Gilbert, over by taverns and burrito shops open all night.

All so that every last drop of sanity matters, every human with a drug if they choose for the social awareness of attention paid to consciousness like money spent in a parking meter outside town halls climate change building 178 car garage, where the rich and wealthy put their cars for when they’re done making everyone around them better, stronger and more powerful, living in social housing and wearing red shorts with the words “Socialism! Victory and community. For all people! Not you stupid American folks’!” written in black ink and made overseas.

Looking backwards, now has to be called out, said before moving in the direction described, precisely correct or else some hip and fresh warrior will arrive with a poster and a clipboard for daily signups and more paperwork.

Looking back, I was free, proud, full of hunger and energy and now, I boil animal bones and try to hide the smell so some racist woman who carries a pride flag doesn’t smell it and tell all her thirty nine friends who have boyfriends and girlfriends and lovers there’s an expletive in the building she walks and talks and flaunts her worn out, wore down sexiness every day and then have to plead to police for them to leave and not lock me up in one of their many institutions.

Mostly I look back to know how much longer I have to be alive, before I can be dead and gone from this horrid and disfigured life I have to breath and walk amongst yearly, monthly and every second. The memories don’t have to be used by my brain anymore and nobody bothers me for a few numbers on the clock.

Reality and living, looking back in the posts on here used to have purpose and meaning. Now, there’s misdirection, confusion, pandemonium and sadness, far too often.