Magic Little Pill

So it comes down to this....My family, my girlfriend, my friends, and my life. Simple little things that make me happy on a daily basis. For the first time in a very long while have I finally felt like the planets have started to curiously align in my favor. Nothing special has happened yet. No special money, no double rainbows in my backyard, no winning lottery ticket, no hotels on Boardwalk, not even a "get out of Jail Free Card"! The only thing that I have managed to win this week is a little self awareness and a sense of urgency I haven't felt tingle down my spine in a long while. Mr. David Edward Canto begins another chapter that he himself hasn't even anticipated, yet he welcomes it just as much as he welcomes the fact he is writing in third person now. I have once again become the narrator in my book and the climax starts at the prologue.

The future is bright.

Alas my Hour

At what point and time do I have to remind you of the consequences that arrive due to the timely manner of your irresponsible and preposterous actions and lack thereof? To which conclusion I may arrive at this time is inconclusive, to what time I may arrive is finite. The books which align the many crevasses of a shelf are only periodically stable in correspondence to its reading hour. Every day has one blue, five to six soap operas and eighteen and a half chocolates. Nikola Tesla said it best, "The hardest part of the month are the last twenty nine days".

Camp Horno

Camp Horno in Camp Pendleton in California is a unity, a vileness, a loving mother, an abusive father, a refuge, a drunk, a diamond, a home. Camp Horno is a collection and balanced proportion of large neon green hills and valleys, poor drunkards, spell-bound warriors, a Post Exchange store, lovers with absence of feelings, run down buildings with bright red roofs and perfectly trimmed dead grass, a rifle range and a small but forgiving chapel. It is not a place where you go to rent or settle down rather it is a worn battleground that helps you cope with life. From the outside in, one would think this is where the poor unfortunate souls are sent to wither away. From the inside, she is what shelters us against nature,misguided mortar fire and civilians.

The sharp alarming sound of the bugle rolls through the valley cerimoniously every morning precisely at sunrise. That is when the cracked streets of Camp Horno come to life, as if it were proud to have platoons marching on them while it guides them to their new area of operation. From the distance, far up in the worn hills where pathways have been formed from hiking Marines, shouting and cadences of death, war and glory can be heard harmoneosly through the thick morning fog. The old cars are left alone to their abandoned parking lots which when artillery rounds go off, so does the car alarms and rattling windows. In the barracks

misguided Marines with too much time on their hands wander mistcheflsy around the broken down rusty red barracks with 85 rooms of impecable neatness. At sunset, when the air is crisp and the ocean breeze flows through the camp, the bugle begins to preach again letting everyone know Camp Horno needs her rest.

Most Marines who enter Camp Horno do not do so by choice. Although Camp Horno may be decieveing at times she will remind you of the pain during scorching hot days, bone chilling cold nights and the fact that it is located miles away from the nearest movie theater or Starbucks. Many Marines have checked into Camp Horno but many will never check out. Camp Horno does not believe in amnesty she only asks that you salute when you walk in and clean your boots on the way out.

Sgt. Canto, David E.

1st Marine Regiment

USMC

"The Answer to Everything"

The answer to everything, my friend,

is a question.

[Like] the pearls of sky and the blues of the moon.

[Like] the dark of day and light of night.

[Like] the unknown of the child and the familiarity of someone else's home.

[Like] the vastness of secrets and the language of a canyon.

The question to everything, my friend,

is your answer.

The Hero

Rise and rise again, until lambs become lions.

[chik-uh-n]

A boneless chicken! I feel like one! Back from gym, this time for real! lol Life is tough now at almost 28 in 2 months. Knees creek, elbows creek, everything creeks. If I stop taking care of myself now, it's really gonna be all downhill. What sucks about this is shopping, I just came back from publix and stayed about 20 min looking for the "right" cereal, when in reality you damn well know your gonna pick the same healthy one you always buy (But I can dream dammit! I can taste the Sugar right now). Funny thing about cereal is that when you were a kid, after having your 1st bowl, it wasn't enough, then the second was better, and by the third you had the biggest Saturday morning sugar rush your parent's money can buy (good times). Shopping isn't as fun anymore either. Before you would want to push the cart really fast and just place your feet on the rail and glide through the aisles (not looking at nutritional information). Cereal picking was a lot easier and funner too (hmm, frosted flakes? lucky charms? fruit loops?.. how about mix all 3? lol)

sigh... well I cant wait to have to kids now......
(because you know I'm gonna steal their food!)

More than a hobby...

Prelude

But just as I enjoy another sip from my glass, I pause, and I am left staggered and shocked from a mental breakthrough that I have waited so many years to reach. The mixture of ambition and smooth alcohol drive out of my mouth like a breath of fire....

Act One

to appreciate.. what does it mean?

The literal translation is: to be grateful or thankful for; to view as valuable; to be fully conscious of; be aware of; detect;

But how can we really grasp this concept when we walk in a tunnel bounded with self-absorbed walls?

My confession embarked from the day I learned the difference between right and wrong. What was so outstanding was that the world was either corrupt in greed of evil or in the brotherhood of love for your fellow mate... the good.

And to contemplate in favor of the latter was a target that many and myself have toiled to grasp since childhood.

Intermission

The plot thickens and I sit here on my bed, my back against the backboard, my legs spread across the bed not too distant from each other. My skin feels fresh from a recent cold shower and I can smell the glenlivet rise from my mouth into my nostrils. It's intoxicating and fills my head with thoughts that feel like a lukewarm lullaby.

Act Two

It happens, but not like you'd imagine it, but as if it would have crept on you in your sleep. But not like a regular night of rest, but like one of those nights where you toss and turn to reach a slumber that's far from reach. It has no definition. It's limitless and finite simultaneously. This is such an art.

She is thinking right now. What is, what isn't, what could and can't be. It let's me know she is human. Which is a hard thing to do; being human. Which is good.

But ultimately her drive is suffocated by an ambition which is obsessed by love. Her love which is unconditional. This love is the human fuel for the soul. A chaos trapped in a fist-sized box.

A man, no matter how proud... listen and take heed to my warning.. your pride will be your fall. Take time to listen, see, and touch everything that cant be heard, seen, or felt. Appreciate everything you do and do not have.

Nothing is for sure and nothing is forever and heroes are forgotten. So take this love as an example and don't get caught up in appearance. Your reflection is often a lie, and your soul can't be seen better than the the other who stands and looks you in the eye.... after all, the eyes are said to be the gateway to the soul.

This is wild. The stars are moving across the sky. But we all know it's the earth doing the moving, don't we? Just like us. Yeah.. but that's another chapter.

-----
The glass is empty.

The alarm clock sounds.

I wake up ♠

Marine

Over two centuries of romping, stomping, hell, death and destruction. The finest fighting machine the world has ever seen. We were born in a bomb crater, my mother was an M-16 and my father was the devil. Each moment I live is an additional threat upon your life.

I’m ruggish looking, roving soldier of the sea. I’m cocky , self-centered, overbearing and I do not know the meaning of fear for I am fear itself. I am a green amphibious monster made of blood and guts who arose from the sea. Whose sole purpose in life is to perpetuate death and destruction upon the festering anti-Americans throughout the globe, whenever it may arise, and when my time comes, I’ll die a glorious death on the battlefield, giving my life to mom, apple pie, and the American flag.

We stole the eagle from the Air Force, the anchor from the Navy, and the rope from the Army. On the 7th day when God rested we overran his perimeter and stole the globe, and we’ve been running the show ever since. We live like soldiers, talk like sailors, and slap the hell out of both of then at the same time. Fighter by day, lover by night, drunkard by choice, and a United States Marine by an act of God.