Time

"...in time, it could've been so much more
The time, is precious I know...
In time, it could've been so much more
The time has nothing to show because..."

Time won't give me time. None at all. Lately, I've been busier than a one-legged man in an...um..or busier than a one-eyed cat watchin' two mouse holes...or a termite in a saw -mill..than a moth in a mitten....That is to say, I've had no shortage of activities to occupy my most precious commodity of late. Who knew?

I don't think I've been so completely dominated by work so much since I were trying to get my Electrical Engineering degree. I was always running here to a study group. Running there to basketball practice. Running over so and so's to pick up the notes. Unexpectedly dropping in at whatshername-an'em, conveniently at mealtime. In my adult life, I've been pretty good about carving out a little bit of time in my routine to do things that I want to do like workout or put my feet up if I want to. The key word there, however, was routine. When my routine gets shot, as it so often does lately, items on my to-do list make like looters at Federated on La Brea and Slauson and start grabbing whatever time they can get their hands on. It's a total free for all. I sit back like the LAPD and just watch it happen, almost powerless to do anything about it. The have-to's start throwin' hay-makers at the want-to's and the whole thing is just a big mess. At the end of it, meal-time or bed-time come in like the National Guard and put an end to it, making the natives a little lest restless as the fires burn themselves out. Until tomorrow.

But then the caste system of time rears its ugly head, and possession becomes all the rage. My time fights for equal billing with your time, and his time alleges to be more valuable than all of ours. Who decided this? Was their an election while I slept? Did I miss the campaigning? What? My time didn't fare so well in the red states? What happened? Was there an insurrection? Did I miss a rebellion? Is there a new Sultan of the Sun-Dial? I demand a re-count. What time is it anyway?

Did we collectively run out of time? Although it wants to roll, none of us are willing to take time. Time will have to get its own ride. You run out? Too bad, you came to the wrong place if you're looking for some spare time.

But wait. Let's take time out. Out? Out where? Dinner and a movie? Out? Rub 'em out? Wack 'em? Is time really the problem? Is this narrative even worth it? The Time, that is. Maybe time is trying to come up with new strategeries while Money is the real root of all evil. Money drops time into a suit and lets him stumble all over his tongue while Haliburton, um, I mean Money ('round the way, the homiez call 'em Burt...Mama call him Hal) gets Busy in the background, and here we are thinking that Time ain't on our side when it's ain't Time that matters. Busy is just Money's cointelpro, and Time his puppet regime. Watch out for Money.

Things were all good until Money came on the scene. Time was like an ally. No, time was like air. It was just there. Wherever you went, there it was, but it didn't matter. You just did what you were going to do, until you didn't anymore. Time didn't make you stop. Time just stood idly by. When you were hungry, you ate, and when you were tired, you slept and then along came Money.

Its wickedness spread like wildfire. Destroying families and neighborhoods. It took prisoners. It developed a following. No. It seduced and put a spell on its subjects. It got them all strung out. It made them think that it was the Way. They were made to do anything for Money. They robbed and stole for Money. They even killed for Money, and still Money was never satisfied. Money never is. Money is greedy. Money consumes and consumes and preaches that there is nothing like more Money, and that Money cures all ills and solves all problems. Money is tricky too. He had to be to survive this long, adapting, evolving, often taking his operation underground, and taking on many different names like scratch, clams, bacon, or in more distinguished company, Bill or Benjamin. His message is twisted, suggesting that man CAN live on Bread alone.


But it's about Time. It always has been actually. Even when it wasn't. The Native American knew it. Mother Earth knows it and remembers the Land before Time, when if you didn't finish today, you came back and got back at it tomorrow. There was always totmorrow. But tomorrow may never come, for all we know.

And now it's Time to say goodbye to all my little friends. If you're wondering what just happened the last few moments of your life and are lamenting about never getting them back, I'd like to extend my apologies. Come back if you find some time that needs to be laid to rest; with the fishes that is. You can't really kill time though. Time has always been here, and always will be. When you break free from the bondage of your Almighty Dollar, Time will still be right there, solid, a tree as its guise, rooted in the pain of its past and will rise.

Remember the Time. Enjoy the Time. Unlike Money, there's plenty for everybody. For both of our sake, I hope that sleepy-time rises to prominence in '08. It'll probably run a grass-roots campaign, but its an idea that's long over due. I'll even go so far as to have the audacity to hope that the deficit spending in this area is curbed significantly so as to lessen the amount of incoherent non-sense that gets printed here. Okay. It's dinner time.