Heaven, Hell, etc.

I'll be damned, & I have been. These damn long gone days. Days alone, fruitless as a dried up vine, & they're all mine. Prolonged sunshine before the solstice. Damn long days. If hell is fire and the absence of god, then you know it must be bright, & lonely. So I guess I've been damned, but with bird chirps & neighbors. Damned with a roof & a thermostat. Damned without shade from the tree that they murdered. Damned to the season of spring. Damn these long days.

So, is this hell? It could be heaven for all I know. Everything's relative in this dimension, just ask Albert. Although even Einstein only had a theory. Here it seems that heaven is fleeting and hell holds steady. It has its moments. It also has its eternities. Like loneliness. In prison they have "solitary confinement", for the people who need to be put in a prison within a prison. Here outside the cells and the walls and the barbed wire, solitude can confine as well. Without love the world is a cell. Home alone in hell.

Bottle o' Wine

I just got back from a drive, a drive without a destination, just four wheels and a radio station. I was hungry & thirsty, but I couldn't pull over until the show was over. I was busy falling in love with Rickie Lee Jones.

It was a lonely night. No night is a lonelier night than a lonely Saturday night. So I decided to use my empty stomach and thirst to my advantage, & drink a bottle of wine, for a buzz that strong & pure. It's not like I drink to solve my problems, I just drink, and sometimes the problems just happen to be along for the ride. Mmm.. this wine is dark & dry, just like my sense of humor. I don't drink a lot of wine, & I don't exactly know why. It's a great buzz, a body buzz, a buzz that hugs you when it says hello & holds you close like a lover or a touchy-feely friend that you don't see often enough. The wine is in my big Bugs Bunny coffee cup, which is white on the inside & stained by black coffee with whiskey & red wine with more red wine.

So I'm about to the bottom of my 2nd cup. I think I'll top it off. Once the bottle is done, my night will begin. The plan is for my shoes to get reacquainted with the road. There are taverns within walking distance, and from there, cabs to call. Going out solo is a fork in an unknown road. You might run into someone you know (good thing) or you might run into someone you know (bad thing). You might turn strangers into friends, or strangers might turn themselves into people you wish were still strangers. Strange is a two-way street. You're never more alone than when you're alone in a crowd.

Well it's been awhile since I uncorked this bottle, & the last of it is in the cup. Bottoms up! Well, in a way: I'm a drinker, not a slammer. A marathon man. On my first stop tonight, I'll order something white & boozy & bubbly: like me! Perhaps a vodka press or a gin & sweet. Oh yeah, & maybe I should eat something. Or hit the titty bar. A man has appetites.

"Stay, & help me to end the day. And if you don't mind, we'll break a bottle of wine. Stick around, & maybe we'll put one down. 'Cause I'd like to find what lies behind those eyes." - Pink Floyd

Writer's block? I guess if you're blocked, then you're not much of a writer, at least not at the time. If you wanna write, then think & start typing. "When you hafta shoot: shoot, don't talk." - Tuco  

I used to work with a lot of well-meaning dumb-fucks. Not horrible people, just annoying, and expendable. The kind that remind you how much this planet needs a plague. Now I may come across as an angry bastard, because I am, but I'm not an idiotic shit-storm of halitosis either. I remember this one walking fossil who used to dismiss rap music by claiming that he could do that, as if it's just some dude talking. As if anyone wanted to listen to this bass ackward cracker under any circumstance. Gawd.. why don't people just die?

"no apparent motive, kill & kill again/ survive my brutal thrashing, I'll hunt you 'til the end/ my life's a constant battle, the rage of many men/ homicidal maniac!" - Slayer, "Kill Again"

So if I don't have anything good to say, should I say nothing at all? Maybe those seemingly peaceful monks who take those vows of silence are secretly rage-filled fans of Slayer.

So you speak softly, but carry a big stick? "Oh yeah? Well I speak LOUD! And I carry a BIGGER stick!! And I use it too!!! - Yosemite Sam

Oh man, I do hate people, but there's lots of things that I love. I love my family & my cat & my girlfriend & my friends. I love chicken, and television. And I fuckin' love music! And I fuckin' love fucking my girlfriend!! I love baseball. Oh, & oh hells yes, I love sleep. Sleepy sleeps. Sometimes when I sleep I stop breathing, & someday I"m gonna stop breathing altogether & sleep forever. And I'm gonna love that more than anything.

riffing

• alright I'll riff for ya
• spill it
• as you kill it
• you're never gonna fill it
• the void
• paranoid
• anxiety
• separation from society
• who claimed your rights?
• bought your propriety?
  

  • claimed a stake
  • through your hear
  • t
  • sold your art
  • as chicken feed
  • to the sheep that breed
  • the virus
  • inside us
  • that we are
  • a scar
  • on the smooth beauty
  • of what could be
  • but isn't
  • & you know what rhymes with "isn't"?
  • nothing
  • so die
  • useless
  • irrelevent
  • self-important
    

    • scum
    • you're cum
    • that should've been swallowed
    • hollow
    • be your name
    • overflowing
    • be your shame
    • your game
    • is over
    • bend over
    • you're fucked
    • you suck
    • die
    • die
    • die

Shit Fuck Death

Ahahaha.. shit, fuck, death.. this came to me as I sat and contemplated life. Complicated strife? Constipated knife? ahahaha

I was sitting/shitting here thinking/stinking about how fucking clever I am. Life has three stages: the evolution of shit from "in your pants" to "in the toilet", the evolution of fucking yourself to fucking other people, and finally the devolving back into the nitrogen cycle: becoming both shit and cum all at once, rotting into fertilizer and food. Well, not really, since humans have made it their mission to be as worthless in death as they are destructive in life. Assholes to ashes, detritus to dust. Heaven forbid the trematode should feed the earthworm. Too self-important to rot, unworthy of mummification; the modern human fills cemeteries just to prove that they didn't stop with strip-malls, suburbs, and golf courses. "Drop the bomb, destroy them all!" - Colonel Kurtz

The winter arrives fasionably late

finally the snow is here
finally the bright darkness of winter
finally the clouds silence the nagging dawn

finally the bears can dream
finally the fertility succumbs to freeze
finally the tepid sunshine is quarantined


finally the dying are dead
finally the ice protects the darkened depths
finally the rough paths are smoothed with danger

Shape shifters & the nitrogen cycle

Drink a lot of little water & you’ll see farther than you’ve ever seen. Focus on the furry animals that don’t exist. They are sentient, self aware, lovable and dangerous. Their dark coats tinged with the white of wisdom & the grey of suffering. Pet them & see if you can sense whether they’re purring or growling. You’ll soon find out. You’ll be food at the bottom or feasting from the top. Fuck the food chain you’ve cast off your familiar shackles. You’re gonna shift shapes either way. Once they bite they can taste your essence. They drink the familiar & devour the food. You get licked & sucked & brought to life or chewed & swallowed & reincarnated as whatever the shit you are might instill into life. It all depends on whether you’re riding your bike with the karmic wheels sailing off the ramp or if you’re just riding the nitrogen cycle & never leaving the dirt.