where unpleasant words go when they die



after a good couple of weeks,hello...

ive bin called a lot of things,but a happy camper,thats one of those that i dont acknowledge...
Ive smiled and ive laughed,both in truth and lie,sometimes to invoke,sometimes just at thoughts in that lake between my ears.
Theres always something to be disgruntled about.
Why not?the past and the future are always visualised cesspools,and theres no tellin whats to be under your boot the next step,a steaming-fresh cowpat or a silver dollar.
Id like ta say ive seen both(and ermm,avoided one),and that every cesspool has a silver lining,but once again,im opposing myself.
If a choice were to be made between optimism and realism,what would one choose?rather,how would one comment(i would much rather criticise) on anothers choice?'he who chooseth optimism is but a dreamy hippie bed-of-roses peacefreak' OR 'he who chooseth realism is the purest specimen of a pessimist/cynic for whom life is meaningless'
at this point in time,having forgotten the actual logical theme of this post,i wil now proceed to insert a random thought,so here goes-
"i wish D-O-I-N-G was pronounced DOINNG! (like a huge inflatable ball bouncing right in front of you)"
adds a litle more spice to the day,dontcha think?

Reading-various books about the dhofar insurgency in the 70s


ciao