I wander the house, drinking wine for breakfast. Touching everything that belongs to both of us. Gently, O - so. Gently, like a tender lover running one curled finger under the chin of a woman. Only precious things are ever touched this way.

They say that there is only one of everyone. And. Only the rare becomes precious. But how many people do you know that are actually precious to you? And how rare is it, not to feel like a Ming Vase held by a monkey, when in the arms of a lover?

And in the whole of the world, how many people actually know the magnitude of what they are breaking? Most people, they hear the breaking smash and simply say, "It wasn't me." They try and look busy.

Gently, O - so. Gently. Newspaper, carefully folded into a square. Just so. I sit at the kitchen table, sipping wine, and reading about crime.

I set down the paper and say to no one,

"We'll put a gun in the hand of just about any fucking monkey, won't we?"

Maybe the problem lies not in the fact that so many are armed, but in that not everyone is. Maybe we should arm every fucking human, and see if that works any better. Instant equality. Bullets don't give a damn about your color, race, or creed. Halleluiah, Equality. No longer will we be a race of armed monkeys verses unarmed monkeys. Universally armed, everybody wins the race. We'll be equal as well as winners. Halleluiah and, 'Thank you so much for playing.'

Would the world be more accepting of equality if it came, once and for all, from the barrel of a gun? And. Would people have listened better to Christ's talk of peace if He had been armed at the time? Would people have listened like their lives depended on it?

People won't listen to a lot of things without the implied, 'Or Else.' Maybe after three days time, Christ should have come back guns a-blazing. That would have been memorable. As it is, in a room full of people, how many actually know how long Christ came back for, or what He did, post-resurrection? Rumor has it, He ascended. But no one really saw.

Humans are animals requiring discipline. To the people in charge, there was not adequate repercussion. O - sure. There's Hell. The place where what you do comes back to you. To a certain mentality, Christ was crucified and fucking took it. Sure - He came back after a few days, but left again and no one has heard from Him since.

And Why is it that the word, 'kind,' runs caboose on the end of humankind, like some kind of terminally optimistic divorcee, grabbing madly at the ass of what should have been?

After that thought, I run out of wine.

My god you wouldn't believe the night i've had. I'm sitting here drinking a strange cocktail of tea, the bits of coffee in my sugarbag and for some reason, vodka. My hands are shaking so bad from all the cofee that I have to re-write every second word cos i keep missing the keys. Punctuation is very hard to do on a strong coffee buzz.

Its nearly nine in the morning and I've just walked in the door from a twelve hour shift in the hospital. I work as a care assistant special.. in other words i sit by a bed (usually) watching someone sleep for 12 hours reading a book or three and then go home. Last night was different though.

It all started ok, went in, signed in at half seven, blissfully happy after strolling the 15 minute walk down the road listening to Mr. Bungle and enjoying the feel of my brand-new trogdor (TROGDOOOOR!!) t-shirt against my skin. Went in to see the night superviser, swearing under my breath on the way out that i was gonna bury her in a ditch somewhere, if you've ever met a night-matron, you'll know the feeling!

Went up to my ward and sat down at the end of the bed of my lovely unconscious lady-friend and pulled out my book. Who should walk in the door but Frosty the Snow Matron, who i believed i had left behind for the night. Lo and behold, tonight i'm specialing two lucky customers! In different rooms! WOOHOO!!!! So I kiss my lovely book goodbye (The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac if you're interested) and proceed to tramp from room to room and back again, pointlessly checking one unconscious patient after the other, making sure they're not having nightmares or anything I suppose.

So it gets to about 2 in the morning, my feet are ripped off the back of my soul-destroying work shoes and my legs feel like i've poured half a gallon of liquid nitrogen over them, i can't feel a thing. Suddenly a scream hits the side of my head like a full on 5-way pileup. "MURRAAAAAY!! DON! COME 'ERE TILL I TELL YOU A QUESTION!". Jesus I think, i fuckin hope thats not... running next door, i find one of my 90 year old beauties clawing her way up the wall screaming at the top of her lungs for her husband. Ok ok.. relax, she's had a nightmare, it's grand.. "It's all right hon, lie back and.." SMACK, right hook in the forehead. I don't know if you;ve ever had a puck in the forehead but your brain vibrates for about half an hour.

It just went on from there.. It's all ok now though, I get to SUMBIT my node!

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