" . . . and all faces look the same . . ." (Scylla and Charybdis)

Ok, Ok, Ok . . .

Maybe it's just me and we all know I'm halfway out of the mind that's half insane, but . . .

All these faces look the same . . .

Maybe I'm getting older and maybe I'm just . . . I don't know . . .

I mean from old friends to ex-girlfriends . . . I keep seeing the same faces everywhere. They have different names, but that's about where the differences end . . . it's mildly disconcerting when exes have the same personality traits . . . it makes you wonder how good your decision making is . . .

Anyway, on to something related but not . . .

I was at work the other night and a co-worker comes up to me and proceeds to tell me a story about how I remind him of this guy he used to know. I was ready to take this as a compliment outside of the obvious racial (not racist) remarks about my hair . . .

Well, the story ends with him telling me that my doppelganger drank all of the alcohol in his house and pissed his wife off so they don't talk no more . . . and I'm left standing there like "thank you?"

I wonder why people decide to tell fucked up stories and disguise them as compliments or worse . . .

But I digress . . .

In my search for a point of reference I come across the same bridge. The first time, I took the first step, the second time I swam across the god-damn, and the third time I just kinda shrugged my shoulders and accepted the company . . . now mind you my interests possibly lie elsewhere, but . . .

You know, I should just say "fuck it" and tell everyone to get fucked and mosie on down the road on my lonesome . . . take Hetfield's advice and be the road warrior that I've grown and adapted to be . . .

But I've done that already, and to tell you the truth, I'm ready for change . . .

I find the biggest problem is that you either take it too serious or not serious enough and you're always trying to make up the difference with pennies . . . it's quite tedious and painstaking and you always end up that one cent short of a hundred so you dig everywhere for that last penny, only to find you had it all along and just miscounted . . .

So what is the answer? Where is the divine, absolute truth in this . . . I mean even scientist say we aren't meant, engineered, or conditioned to be alone . . . but is that based on "normalcy"?

What if "crazy" works for me?

. . .

Anywho, I don't know . . . Chino would say he could " . . . see it comin' over his cloud", Ed Kowalczky would say he "could feel it comin' back again", Plant would say he "could feel it callin' him the way it used to", and Maynard would say, "Been through this before" . . . but where does that leave me? What do I say?

Times like these I go back to thinking that I think too much, which leads me to think too much about thinking too much . . . after that I usually go to sleep . . . and think too much subconsciously . . .

But I swear I'm not crazy . . .

The Buddha says to walk the Middle Path . . . he just failed to tell you about the tripwire, howitzers, guerrillas, claymores, plasma grenades, semi-automatic rifles, air strikes, and torrential downpour that accompanies your Eightfold Path through Hell . . . ok, Purgatory . . .

Fuckin' philosophers . . .