Friday, July 11, 2014


Crusty, dusty old words come at me like meteors hurling in the space of my mind.  I don't see anything new on the horizon, just some tired, sleepy friends whom I've visited a million times and now come to pay me homage out of some warped concept of duty.

Well fuck you, sirs!  I don't want your duty.  Give me your lives, tense and afraid, dirty and rotting, and I will make something great of them, something to cherish for years to come...  

My stomach roils in it's pit right now, I tell ya, from what feels like years of inactivity and mediocrity.  I languish, perishing in the thought that I have no gumption, no go anymore.  Rather, it feels like my words have training wheels making me/them sound safe, boring, unappealing.  

What will it take to wake out of my torpor, my somnolent indulgence and rise to meet the challenges of a new goal?  For that is what this heady meandering is:  a call to myself to conquer the taboos, and the shortcomings of my existence.  I want to learn to swim and be able to save my life, I want to be there for someone, really be there for them, and pay it forward,  I want to write the story of my life, simultaneously exorcising the remaining debris of the destruction that tore me apart, and bringing joy and beauty to this love-starved world... 

These dreams, hopes and goals are like seeds germinating beneath the leathery, crusty soil of my mind, I see that now.  They invigorate me and give me the vision and hope that life is bigger than what I thought, and that it is waiting to transport me to some magical land further along the path that I was on before should I decide to hop aboard.

I think I will.


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