A Fleeting Thought

My brain has stopped working. The point of some meditation exercises is to be able to let thoughts pass without, well, thinking about them. Perhaps a busy life is required for this to be a desired and useful skill. As for me, I chase down thoughts dog and bone.

My synapstatition has torn down his calibration station and built a liquor store. Firing aimlessly out to space, or perhaps, my gut and arteries. Which, if true, really interferes with the only thing left when thought leaves, instinct. Luckily, my instincts are good. A product of a Catholic upbringing and many run-ins with hot pans, electrical outlets, and sadistic cats as a youngster. So I can fairly safely say I can survive this life. The main problem with chronic fleeting thought is the lack fun. (A quick qualifying of fun; somewhere between amusement and joy) While amusement requires no real thought, joy can be felt by upholding your responsibilities by pure intuition. Fun requires thought in my case. My fun is in contemplation. Does God exist? I don't really care. However, it's fun to contemplate the possibilities. My ideal God would drink Guinness and play a mean shortstop. He'd hate James Cameron movies and love romantic comedies. See, there it is, and now it's gone.

To fast do thinks that fill a brain
distill to drinks to kill the pain
aboard a ship that never sails
therefore my lips forever fail.