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Nothing should be complete. Actually nothing can be complete. This life is a process. This land is your land this land is my land from here to the gulf coast whatevers. Property and territory are stupid. This is mine. Oh yeah, this gun is mine and I'm taking your mine over. End of point. Shift to another topic. How about my son's birthday today. He's 27 and weighed in at an even 9 pounds as the record shows. I don't like stupid. I know, I should never have used that word. I know, but when I said it, I thought it was appropriate and then, after it blurted from my mouth via the brain I had this mini thought that oops I chose the wrong word. And this has nothing to do with Sigmund. Sigmund has been replaced by medication. Trial and error chemistry. Try this for a bit and if it makes you feel like killing yourself call me before you do. What should I do if it makes me feel like killing someone else. I'm not sure, maybe you should see a psychiatrist. What insurance plan do you have. Very limited. And yet, I think I would feel much better if I had some prettier nails and a lot less cavities. And possibly a different nose. And maybe a different mother and father for the next time around. Or a different line of demarcation. Or an evolutionary ascension. Or a transfiguration. Or maybe just an end to the feeling that there's something out there that is more than this. Or the knowing that what it is that I want to add is frivolous, and it all adds up regardless. But wait...one more thing...this land is your land...be free. feel free to fuck around. Pow a firecracker expodes in celebration.