I just really don’t give a shit…about much of anything, except my family and several friends. I mean I’m tired, burned out, fucked up, and disgusted with my fellow human beings. For the longest time I thought it was because my fellow country people elected a…
Wait, fuck that. I just really don’t care about much these days. I’d like to just eat, sleep, and party with people I like, especially the ones with really good green. I suspect I’m like that guy in the tequila commercial that starts dancing as the world ends. And the world is collapsing according to Stephen Hawking. He says we’re facing mass extinction and that we need to colonize another planet within the next hundred years.
And if that’s not bad enough, even though I have children (and grandchildren AND a great grandchild) I don’t care! After all I’d have to live to be one hundred and sixty-nine to witness the apocalypse Hawking predicts!
Maybe my mental/spiritual malaise was the cause of my migraine last week. Or the wicked case of hives I got right after that.
Or was it the many thoughts I’ve had recently about dying? Those were compounded in my normal, occasional bleak thinking by that fucking migraine believe me!
But seriously, if we can take Hawking with any sense of an understanding that the dude doesn’t really have a non-scientific agenda to work from then WTF is going on with those motherfuckers we allow to make decisions that the rest of us have to live with? And why do we let them keep doing what they’ve been doing?
Last week when I was texting with…damn, I really don’t know what to call her…muse, former lover, friend…let’s just say someone I dearly miss having those wonderful moments sharing thoughts, feelings, etc. Anyway when I told her of how I really had nothing interesting to write about, nothing I cared to share with any who’d read my words she said,
“Write what you feel.”
I’ve heard that writers have a shit ton of people running around in their heads. Yeah, well, I’ve got a bunch of them running around in my heart too. Most of them I don’t know their fucking names, like the people in this commercial! But that joint brings a tear to my eye every damn time I see it.
I mean there are days I absolutely hate being at all empathic. There are days I hate being at all poetic or artistic, or at all intelligent.
(Shit, is this want you meant? Writing what I feel…)
The earth shakes me awake
its flood waters wash me clean
taking yesterday’s blues
and leaving the promise of today
I mourned my loss for I loved
they comforted me and I only
saw grief ahead so I slept.
No hope lived within
until I moved, turned
and saw the light
in your eyes.
Now I gamble at life’s
roulette, knowing there’s
more than red or black…
You are a rainbow.
(Then you fucking left…Thanks!)
Not that I would ever blame just one ex for my ill tempered frame of mind. No, that shit’s totally on me and frankly, if I weren’t paying attention to what’s important in my life maybe I wouldn’t feel this way every once in a while. No, this one particular muse always bring a smile to my lips when I think of her. I think all former lovers, had they have been loved fully and with all the fire in your heart, would bring you smiles at the memories still residing within, no?
What I’m feeling is so disjointed. What do you call that shit, what’s the psychological term?
Who cares? I’m just reveling in being inside of it right now, feeling the manic power of my need to capture however much of the scattered thoughts and feelings I’m experiencing. Wondering if there’s some semi-epic poem in all of this, a sweeping song or anthem?
Hey did Leonard Cohen ever feel this way?
I remember once a good friend said he admired me for being so open to all the emotions I felt, the highs and the lows. He said that he’d rather just stay in the middle, the needle not moving that far over into happy or sad because he didn’t like the lows. Hanging out with this guy was always an adventure. He was smart and funny, always first to pull a prank. In fact I met him at work where on the end of my second day on the job, he and his brother were completely rearranging the director’s office. Yep, I jumped right in and helped out, definitely wanted to join the bad boys of the training department. Training department…I know, sounds boring as hell, right. Management development, leadership training…Naw, I actually had fun on that job!
Holy shit, the lights just went on!
Having fun is like stealing good times from life, almost like cheating death a little bit if the fun is delicious and perhaps dangerous enough. Come the fuck on, admit it. I don’t care how closely you might adhere to a religious dogma or what it allows you, when you break the rules having some unsanctioned fun it gives you a minute or two to release your inner child.
That precious part of you that still lives in spite of what you think the world requires of you to be…
Most obligations we take on and carry we do for love. And certainly fulfilling those obligations makes up a grand portion of life’s worthy moments. But sometimes it’s those stolen moments that make life smile worthy when you’re alone with your thoughts and memories. And maybe a stiff drink…pour yourself one. I’m going to and listen to that piece I just put on you.
As for those thoughts I had about dying.
Live as you will wish to have lived when you are dying.
Christian Furchtegott Gellert
Yeah…vamping out to some Lee Morgan. Wanna hear it?