Give it a Rest Kid.

you don't really know what should be done, do you? the blank page starring, waiting. ramble on.

just then it was a sudden gush, the relief washed over me in waves. hope was not lost, we were merely on a side track, not running the race on all cylinders but qualifying, qualifying you say? for what? the nights were quiet then, every sound was audible, the tick tock of alarm clocks and the swaying of palm tree leaves rustling against one another, waiting for those hot sweaty sticky nights to return, sleeping with your shirt off. walking the streets too late into the night almost the crisp mid break between nights coldest moment and the sun coming up over the hills behind the freeway, the backdrop was like no other, blades of grass frosted, the mirrors frosted, windows, people, cement and cinderblock all as one, frosted together, with an even layer waiting to evaporate and fall back into it's place, it'll be back at the same time tomorrow, in the same way, just you wait young man, just you wait.
it was a sad state for a 24 year old, these mid twenties are a tough break, but not tough enough to sway me, i'll be damned if i let something this mundane overtake my thought process.. but i hear you yelling at night, the hills shoot the sounds of laughter right back at me, here, in the canyon, even with the rain, late at night the calls come echoing off the hills and into my bedroom window, it was as if we were all collectively yelling for the same idea, the same hope, at that exact moment in time, the mid-break, between frost and dew. there's thousands of us, good strong young men, locking ourselves in the apartment buildings each night fighting with the machines. welcome yourself, to the hate machine, with open arms, and expecting nothing less than a good thrashing. thousands of us, drinking, fucking, whining, singing dancing and puking in unison, i can hear it in my sleep. we'll gut the fishes and have a nice picnic, just like brothers.

any drunk will tell you that the glass is always half empty, because we can never have enough.

you wouldn't understand what it's like, to sit in front of this goddamn machine every night and beat yourself if words don't come, and i will not get up until at least a complete coherent rational thought has produced itself and made it into the thinkers book. if i miss today, i might not have it tomorrow, you've got to hold that fucker as close to the vest as possible and never release deaths grip on it, it's vital to your survival that you take this all in stride but still have a little fire left to bring it into the real world. positive people tire me. when things get tough they pretend that everything is okay, everything is dandy, and they imagine themselves as these pure entities flying above the craters of our souls. some folks can do it, and i applaud you well, blocking out reality and substituting your own for it, congratulations on becoming one of the many. that's not my road, and i know exactly why.

as things get better, there's less and less to write about. i purposely chose bad women, it was a conscious decision, i needed perspective, a time to wind, it gave me something to write about, as women are my vice, i lust after you like a drug, you have no idea how deep it runs in my veins. i regret nothing, and knew that exactly what has happened, was my choice, my decision, my desire. looking back over the last year of pure exhilarating life, it brings me to my knees and destiny, fate, mankind, it's nobodies fault except your own.

the scotch whiskey never tasted as good as it does now.

Life for me isn't about fitting in, conforming, becoming one of the many. i see this as a blessing, it's easy to say live every day as your last but how many of you can actually do that and still lay down at night without your conscious starring back at you? can you say you've come so close to death that you can feel her hot breath fogging up your sunglasses as you drive into the darkness of night with your headlights dimming?

there's something beyond money, materials, and love that push me. it's the fear that motivates me.

To quote a movie:

"Fear is an awesome drug.
Don't let fear take control.
Use it as a motor.

It takes practice.
Put yourself into a situation
where you're scared stiff.
First there's panic.
But after a while,
the body's self-protection
system kicks in.
You do things you never dared.
You overcome you limitations.
You believe you can do anything."

this life is rich for me, it's a constant struggle but rewarding at times, i know nothing will ever turn out as i want it to be, and for the most part, for every push forward, you get an equal or greater one back at you.
that's the point of the whole thing though, it's a constant test, and those who fantasize themselves into unrealistic terms, will fall one day, they will fall hard and fast.
that in itself is a lie, they'll always be someone there to catch you, you've done it before and will do it again. people are funny like that sometimes.
i don't blame them though, i can put myself in their shoes, and perhaps their thought process is a little off tilt, so be it, they believe in their heart that the choices they make are true and just. but from where i'm standing, back here in the real world, where there are no fairies, vampires, or unicorns, it all sounds like self serving bullshit to me. but then again, who am i? what do i have? at the end of the day i'm still alone so how does that prove i'm correct in my choices at all? that's right, my choices are my own, but maybe it's not me who is cynical and jaded, but the world that has become so self absorbed that it no longer lets a person be open because all the doors for him are closed?
closed you say?
oh.. no..
time to kick those fuckers open and come busting in.
which is exactly on what i plan on doing.


i'm a pusher
pushing until the last breath
getting every drop out of the bottle
every toke off that last cigarette
i will test the limits
and go out a little further

"I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center. "
-Kurt Vonnegut