Notes From The Bottom Drawer, "Your One Gaurantee; or, Why Socrates Drank The Tea" edition

You are going to die. Or for believers of reincarnation, more than once.

I've had a little more than the law allows and that tends to make me a little philly-sofa-call. Sorry, philosophical. So let's have a little fun.

So we only get just so much time between the cradle and the grave. So be it. It is one thing that is uniquely unfair that almost no one complains about as it does as much good as bitching about the weather. But life, much like genitals or your bank account, isn't about size, but what you do with it.

Some squander it, some fill it with never ending toil, some even work to make it better for themselves and others. A few make grand contributions to us all that cannot be explained away easily.

Me, I figured out where I stood a long time ago.

I am a Seeker, but not a Finder. I consider it my job to explore the "what if's" that life seems to be full of and try to distill some wisdom for me and mine, and try and steer myself well.

Philosophy doesn't pay much, but as a chronic day dreamer, I have always been driven by a desire to help people and seek out the truth as best as I could. Should any of this prove useful to anyone, all's the better.

Each of us have a story to tell, this is mine.

For starters, by all accounts I am a poor philosopher indeed. I have succumb to the most base desires of man and have failed to purify myself of them so I could concentrate on the really tough questions before me. Only the Hedonistes would excuse what I've done, and only after promises of beer, money, and easy dates.

I have spent very little time perfecting my body, even though I want the vessel of my soul to be pristine. I consume bad food, sleep poorly, and smoke like it was my job. I fritter away time I should be doing something useful with and spend it contemplating the stars or dicking around on the computer. I sometimes drink to excess and I consort with women. I should be banned from the club of philosophers, but if they were willing to let Bukowski in, I'll make it.

I've found that people strive for different stuff, as each has it's own appeal to certain persons. Some seek to maintain. Some seek to control. Some want to strive as others decide to relax. Some of them want to use you and some of them want to be used by you. Some of them want to abuse you and some of them want to be abused.

To each his own.

For myself, I'll go by the old maxim of "Your freedom stops at the end of my nose". My Dad was fond of saying that and it wasn't unil Flannery pointed it out to me that I noticed that I had a real problem with Authority. But I am a believer in law and that hamstrings me in some way, as I have broken the law upon a time or two, and much like the Greek of old, I stand righteously accused and await my judgement, hemlock or no, with the knowledge that I have been of some use to the state.

While I was too young or too sick to fight in your wars, I have done all that I was able, to provide you with taxes and muster up a few children to ensure that we have some toe hold on the future. I have pursued avenues that I thought would help.

Some progress as others regress, but most spend their time worrying about tomorrow and waffle between.

Me, I'll have another beer and go look at the stars.

Doc