ugh im drunkish or maybe I’m just tired not sure. I’m bushed! write anyway hey brian: what would you like to say?

this writing business is arduous. it feels like the battle of my life all the time haha that does sound exhausting.  but it is life that exhausts me. man. it is like i need charcoal but all we shoveling’ is rocks! rocks don’t burn for shit. pour the gin in the gas tank because the zombies cometh and they look like an unfriendly lot.

i refuse to give up. turns out: surrender is best. i’m trying very hard god. trying my best. i really do believe i am doing a good job, but when the reactions of people is your standard for successful conduct, its a slipper shifting hazy rainy life isn’t it. eventually, you feel like you’re drowning and which way is up.

i am naturally such an angry person. so violent, and hostile, and ready to throw down against anyone who upsets me, especially if its multiple times, over a long period. like a relationship. i am unforgiving, i never forget, and i am judgmental. i am serious trouble for girls, because i am apparently very handsome and charming. truly, am i the devil himself.

i know this now, about me, and am shedding this old skin, put pushing forth takes time; i sink my teeth in the dirt and pull, it hurts, my new scales catch and tear on old dead ones, i bleed all over, but to cling is to die.

there is a mountain i dream of, at the top, is a cave. it takes years to reach the top; we must journey up through incredible peril and hardship, across rainbow bridges, through the faerie fires. past the sleeping gods, bargain with vengeful ones. wish on waterfalls, and submit to the subtle cartwheels of stars. but there is that cave. you step in and your clothes and weapons and boots fall away. your body falls away. your mind falls away. whatever is left moves to the center of the cave, a shaft of sunlight shines down in a golden pool. you sit there. and are absorbed. not really in anything really, but just, absorbed. there is no you anymore, separate from anything else. the cave and the sunlight is you; the cave and the sunlight do not exist.

i dream of this place often. it waits for us all. sometimes, clouds move through. sometimes rain falls through the hole and gets you wet–ah but you cannot get wet, you already are wet. you are the rain. forgotten is worry, and time, and things like rain. there is only~

one day. god willing. until then. i’ll simply take every step as if my life was a work of art, and in every second of my life, i am painting.

Advertisements