December 18, 2014 § Leave a comment
“No apathy, no ego, you’re as important as a grain of salt.”
When it’s slow it makes me think of San Francisco. It makes me think of the night I accompanied my friend on a double date. The same night we googled “Dive bars” and ended up in a place which had a neon sign in the window; BAR it read in it’s electric red. No word of a lie, you got a free grilled cheese sandwich if you spent over seven bucks. What I’m trying to say, what I got lost along of the way of saying is this. When you’re young, those blood pumping moments, the ones that make you feel alive, like your whole body is slowly being turned up to where you want it to be, the ones where it sings and twists and smiles in every vessel in your body, are plentiful. The older you get you further they fall and slip and glide through those hands and skin that’s wrapped around them. It looks older everyday. When it comes on fast like this it makes me think of love. It makes me think of music and pace and those steady drums being hit hard over minor chords. It makes me think of my friends. The ones I could keep on the fingers of each hand. The ones that know me, from my faults to my saving graces. From the madness to the slow and crawling moments of logic and sanity. Punkrock and freedom. Shackled hands and smithtown. The pulse in this frame is all for them. The smile and the crawl and the pump and the twists. This isn’t Hunter Thompson any more. We grew out of that. This is cocaine and whiskey any more. We grew out of that. This is those twist, mad falling nights. If there’s one thing I’ve come to learn in my cascading fall to where I find myself these days it’s this. It’s that those who do not feel it; Who do not love and live with that wild desperation that should define us all, are lost and folly and cannon fodder to what will become of us all. Use them to soften the blow. Let them take the first wave. Your body is too pure of heart and word and deed to take this one in the heart. They’re not using their body anyway. Someone may as well.
God save us, every one. A welcome return to form. To that moment. To the smell of her hair, her smile, her laugh at being the butt of the joke. Fuck I’m lost in this one. The smiles and the taste and the words just come easy, too easy. I’m starting to wonder about exactly what it is I’m saying. Am I the only one? Drunk all the time. Cold in the heat? What we sow man, it’s what we reap. He tells me feelings on her behalf.
I’m told internet blogs should deliver a message. Something the reader can take away. They should be concise and easy and should offer something. I have nothing to offer. This isn’t for me. This is me, throwing and slicing on my downfall, just desperately grabbing at something to slow me down, to break my fall. Heaven help me now. Everyone.