“And I wake every night crying, “Set me free”.”
In an effort to get myself to write more consistently I’m testing out a new thing. Well… not fuckin’ to anyone, myself included. I’m basically trying to remind my brain that freewill and free writing exists. You don’t always need to be trying to entertain or enlighten anyone except yourself.
I’m giving myself an hour each day to sit down and write about whatever comes to mind. And I’m titling each chapter with whatever song pops up on my shuffle.
These posts will likely have zero flow. Very little editing and I’m not going to try to make it make sense later. Consider them free writing flow of consciousness.
Fonda’s Book of Hours.
Yeah, I’ve been on a bit of a Tudor kick lately. Of course, England’s most famous serial killer king grabs my attention. Ha.
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A trend I’m noticing about my life lately is if I try and fail I somehow fail upwards? The more effort I put in the correct direct actually pays off. Who would have all those teachers telling me all I had to do was apply my potential were actually right.
It helps I now have a life and people in it that encourages good behavior I suppose. Mostly…
It also helps not to have a 180lb ginger albatross on my back too. Ha!
Pretty sure WWIII started yesterday so that’s…depressing.
I don’t know how anyone is still able to avoid the news. I suppose algorithmically I invite it in. Goddamn, I miss the old internet. It also just came out our country is lying (not new) about the death toll of troops in our current efforts to get people to focus on anything other than the president’s pedophilia accusations/ties.
The people helping him, regardless of the reason, are fuckin’ cowards. Cowardliness leads to evil. Not doing something about the problem when you see a chance to is as shitty as the problem itself.
Fuck.
I sat here this afternoon, sucking down a Celcius Retro Vibes and pondering life and realized if I wanted to put this fuckin’ website to good use I was going to have to actually set aside time to do it. I work terribly within a strict time schedule, but give me the bullet points of my day and let me work out the timing and suddenly I’m a functional human being. Wild shit.
Since moving life has really gotten complicated. On every level. It feels like immediately after putting out one fire another one starts. Treading water I guess. But with a smile on my face? Because for once in a very long time, it feels like where I am is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
As much as I miss the dial up tone (sincerely) and the old internet, I have to admit the one good thing social media has brought up on us is handing over the reigns of entertainment to the average person.
“You ever wondered what the world would look like if everyone could be famous for 15 minutes?”
Watching other people create art or entertain or just be fuckin’ weird is so addictive. I’m a voyeur at heart so no surprise there.
In combination with the utter failure that the news media as we know it has slowly become, it’s also bred a whole new batch of journalists. Both college educated and non. Which of COURSE I love. I have the biggest pull in my head to resume my antics on my podcast because of the inspiration of seeing normal people pick up their phone and show the world around them for what it actually is.
Ahhhh! Again, bullet points – not a script. I gotta be able to improv this life or it doesn’t really seem worth living through.
I was sitting out back with S-Sized Evil (SSE) & Pops yesterday and we got on the topic of self-destruction. It’s just what happens when you combine a group of pessimistic, would-be phlosphers with a bowl or two.
I grew up hearing Pops say the same thing when met with the idea of infirmity in old age. “Take me out to the woods, I’m going to smack a bear.”
As a kid, that shit made me flinch. In my old age (i.e. 27) stumbled across Hunter S. Thompson’s suicide letter. First it struck me as funny, of course a man whose entire shtick was being a bad ass, rebel, shit starter who did what he wanted regardless of circumstances would go out by his own hand and over something trivial.
But it stuck with me. As many things that could be passed off as poems regardless of their origin circumstance could.
Looking at you, This Be The Verse.
I re-read it (and continue to) a couple of years ago and it came across entirely different. He was simply slapping the bear.
A sick, sad epiphany to realize should the exact right circumstances occur, I might decide to do the same thing myself. Just know if I do, your goddamned right there will be a note, a eulogy and an obit pre-written. Sorry, but I don’t trust any of your fuckers to capture my vibe as much as I trust my own brain, hands and mouth with it.
I don’t know how many people in my life actually know me to be honest. I’ve tried to allow people to, but I think it gets lost in translation with the monoliths they build of me inside their own heads.
Yeah, I think this was a good waste of time. The best kind. Something gets produced, I get to empty out my brain and no money gets made under capitalism directly (is there any other way?).
I’d like to push myself to do this more because who knows with the instability of the country whether or not I’ll be able to in 2-3 years, but I know if I don’t let myself get addicted to doing it naturally, my stupid brain will throw a shit fit and nix the whole idea. What a fuckin’ bitch, right?
That electro-powered fat blob is the only master I have now. Whatever it takes to make it calm down and shit out happy chemicals is what I do. Thankfully, sometimes that also means helping others. If it didn’t, I’d just be describing the worst person you know.
Maybe empathy is simple luck of the draw because holy hell it’s in short supply in this life. Or at least it really seems that way until you get boots on the ground and talk to your fellow heathen. Then you’ll find it’s a lot more common than we think.
Born a Libra moon in the 3rd house. What a shame to feel like judge, jury and executioner of the world while still being self-aware enough to realize you are only that of yourself.
The universe has an unrivaled sense of humor.
