INFLATION AND FALL OF THE U.S FLOWER
Financially, America is starting to resemble a middle-aged ex-homecoming queen trying to squeeze back into her old cheerleading skirt for her wedding anniversary, just praying that she won’t bust a seam. She isn’t fooling anyone, things are bad and now it’s just about how you define it.
A recession, as defined by the National Bureau of Economic Research, is a “significant decline in economic activity spread across the economy, lasting more than a few months, normally visible in real GDP.” I define it as a period of time when daisies wilt in flower shops before people buy them.
In the month of May, inflation raised at a rate of .8%. That is the biggest monthly leap since 1981. Over the last three months the president gave $77.9 billion to (get this) normal people. Regulars in the restaurant I use to work are sharing $10 salads and drinking tap water.
National unemployment has been rising for the past seven months leaving us at a four year high of 5.7% California is currently at a 12 year high of 7.3% unemployment because of the gaping wound on the side of the housing/real-estate/const ruction beast. In the last two months I was working at the restaurant my work had fired 10 servers.
Record stores are closing. Outlets like Ross and Marshal’s are reporting huge sales because people are not buying what they really want, just what they need. Socioeconomically, we are about a month away from drawing an eyeliner seam down the back of America’s legs and calling them a healthy economy.
In the years when people still bought things and hand-to-hand CD sales still had an impact on a band’s relevance, my band (at the time) spent a lot of time standing in front of hardcore shows on the Sunset Strip. My hands usually full with stacks of hot Kinko’s flyers and CDs, I would wait until the shows let out into the streets, spewing bodies like a broken hydrant. Desperately we would compete with the flashing freak show of the strip for a moment of attention. It was hard and frustrating then. I can’t imagine what it would be like now.
Some of our biggest competitors were a small group of Spanish speaking ladies carrying bundles of fresh flowers for five dollars a piece. They could burn through a bundle in about three clubs.
It was impressive to say the least.
I remember waiting tables in a little restaurant on Sunset Strip, about a mile east from where I used to hawk CDs. I have come to know one of these flower ladies, Anna, relatively well. She is patient and kind. Anna tells me we are in a recession, not because of the GDP, but because of the flowers.
Sunset is a silly selfish pleasure for most people; A tourist destination for burnt out, sobered up butt rockers with bad tattoos and no coffee shops to go to. Flowers are things of temporary luxury, the impact of which only lasts a few days.
Flower wholesalers have been cutting staff due to a rapid decline in demand. Anna who has been in the business since I was 4 (she worked(s) at a flower shop in Culver City five days a week) used to spend Tuesday through Saturday nights from eight to three in the morning trolling the strip empting bundle after bundle of roses, now can hardly get through one a night.
Shipping of flowers by air cargo is down in some places 17% from this time last year. Anna has started scaling back her time in front of rock clubs and spends more time in restaurant patios.
“There is no one here anymore,” Anna tells me. “The money is bad, the people are cheap, and most of the other girls don’t want to try anymore.”
We had a game, I see her walking up to our patio at about a block’s distance I move to one of my tables, usually an affluent tourist couple looking for a chunk of 1989 rock nostalgia or at least a photo of the two of them wearing Guns and Roses shirts in front of the Whiskey. I bring up the topic of chivalry to the lady and ask her if she can remember the last time she met a true gentleman. At this point Anna is usually behind me. I then give a look to the prospective gentleman letting him know that this is all a set up for his benefit. I then turn to Anna, wink, point and watch her go in for the kill.
We can usually go through at least a half a bundle this way, but lately, gentlemen are hard to find. Anna sold a whole bundle last Wednesday to one guy for half of what she gets
selling them by flower. Chivalry is now more dead than ever and that is how Anna and I define a recession.
Now that I think of it, I haven’t been into the whole flower thing. I miss that. I think it’s time to get back into the game don’t you think?
I KINDA HAVE SOMETHING THAT MIGHT KIND OF MAY BE LIKE A DREAM / I HOPE NO ONE IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD READS THIS OR I COULD GET SHOT
In the post-college world it is becoming increasingly absurd to want to devote one’s life to a creative field of work. According to the Princeton Review of the top ten highest paying college majors, only one if them (Marketing/Marketing Management/Marketing Research) is remotely creative, half of them include the word “engineering,&rdquo ; and only one of the ten most popular majors is in the top ten highest paying. Dreaming for a living is dying in America.
Without perspective between what we have, what we want and the foresight to reach unreasonably far into the future for an intangible (a dream), we are essentially purposeless. Guitar Hero, The White Album, Cirque de Soleil, the Internet and this moment of journalistic insight are all results of a faithful devotion to a creative dream. These things give us purpose and make a life worth living.
In order to trust an idea/creative thought/dream you have got to be a little mad. Essentially all creative ideas, regardless of how practical, are based in faith. In order to commit to a dream you have to first believe in it. The dreamer must conceptualize an intangible, yet to be conceived thing. A writer sits down to start a script trusting that the script can exist, their task then becomes translating the script into tangible terms.
Perhaps this is all a little too ephemeral and reeking of patchouli to make sense of. Take for example my Ex Ex landlord’s son. This 19-year-old runs drugs out of my ex-apartment building as a full time job. Up until about six months ago, he had a part time job as a sales associate for a large commercial retail establishment and he had a dream. The stress and labor of his part time job was offering him little sense of reward or accomplishment. In order to deal with the stress he often came home and self-medicated with copious amounts of beer and weed. With a little foresight and a lot of faith, he began scaling back his hours at his job and devoting more of his time to achieving his dream. His logic was simple; he found something that brought him joy, so he decided to devote his life to it, regardless of feasibility.
He had to trust in the existence of a way of life that had yet to exist for him in reality.
This is still a bit abstract, so let’s take one more example involving the same individual. In order for my Ex Ex landlord’s son to get out of plain view of police, competing drug dealers and unwanted clients he must be able to move quickly from the stop in front of the apartment to behind the cast iron gate protecting it. This is a complicated task because the automated lock system is broken and will most likely remain so until God gives up and lets Satan get hammered off of communion wine. The keyhole is also quite difficult to maneuver and requires a good two minuets of feverish manipulating and handle shaking. If one wants fast access between the inside and outside some creativity is essential.
Many have devised intricate systems of folding of magazines, cigarette butts and coat hangers but none have been able to create a consistently successful method. The gate is heavy, and while logically many of these doorstoppers should work, it is nearly impossible to slow its momentum as it swings closed. The landlord’s son however had a creative dream. He discovered that crumpled up newspaper not only keeps the gate from fully closing it also works as a shock absorber killing the momentum rendering a space between the gates latch and the door frame.
Before he decided to try his method of door stopping he had to have faith that it would work. He had to have faith in an abstract concept, a dream. It is this faith in dreams that is responsible for society’s accomplishments. It is also this faith that is becoming increasingly rare.
Interestingly, only three of the ten highest paying majors appear on Princeton Review’s top ten recommended majors. The others are all open to dreaming. The point: Guitar Hero beats accounting, and dreaming beats running around in endless circles regardless of the paycheck. At least that’s what I’m banking on.
I REALLY NEED ADVICE...PLEASE HELP
Here I go again,
I was talking to my girlfriend not so long ago, and she brought a topic that I’m not very fond of. Moving on, this conversation got pretty heated (at least in my part) and maybe I over reacted a bit but I’m not sure if I am completely at fault here. Well to get you guys out of the shadows, I am going to give you a few details, maybe like this you guys may give me some sort of advice on how to handle this situation.
I am not very happy with my past, maybe some of you frequent readers may have noticed that from reading some of my blogs. I am very unhappy with what I have done and it bothers me to the point where I wish I have never done what I did or I try to block it out of my head completely. Mind you, this isn’t like anything to bad, but it just bothers me a lot. Well this is how it happened.
She asked me a question about her and where did she fit in with the rest of my previous relationships. At that time I kind of started to get annoyed because I knew where this was going. I tried to avoid it and not answer this question but she kept on persisting. It bothers me because I have to bring up my past with these people I had a relationship with and once I do that I tend to bring up all the bad times and I hate thinking about that. She knows I hate it. Maybe she does it intentionally to bother me or for whatever reason she may have. You see, with every relationship that ends up as a break up I loose the sense of goodness that came a long with the relationship and all I think about is the bad times we had. I know this is a problem, but I don’t think about it at all unless its brought up.
Now we are at a point where I’m like freaking out because I don’t want to bring any of my Ex’s up and then she starts to rate me with her Ex’s. I honestly don’t care about where I fit in or how they were better they were or anything like that. When I am being compared or rated, I feel like she misses parts of them. I know I’m wrong here but that’s just the way I think and I don’t think that its right to compare your current partner with you Ex’s. All I care about is that she is with me now, and she should think the same about me instead of bringing all this crap about Ex’s.
I digress:
She starts to rate me maybe to get an answer from me or to rate her with my previous partners. I’m at the point where I’m pretty angry now and I start to tell her what she wants to hear. I rate her on certain things that she wants to know. After I “rate” her I guess she feels good that I told her. I’m still angry as hell that I had to do that and she is completely fine, it was like nothing happened.
You see, we both have issues of our own. She gets upset/angry at certain things that I think are completely stupid, but I know that it bothers her a lot, so I don’t even bring up the subject, the only time we talk about her issues is when she brings them up. I don’t want to talk about it because it really makes me feel sad that she thinks that way. I don’t know if she understands that me bringing up my past is like bringing up her worst issues. It just bothers me that much. She knows it bothers me so why bring it up?
I know that I am at fault here for over reacting but should I be the one to blame for all this?
Maybe I need to hear it from someone else, what do you think I should do to resolve this issue?
I am really confused right now, can this eventually harm our relationship if this continues?
I know most of you are married and have dealt with these kind of issues before and I would appreciate any advice you can give me.
Thanks
Mark.
THOUGHTS
Hey guys...Long time no post. So here we are again giving you an update on my life. Here we go.
Lately I have been questioning everything in life. I guess you could compare it to Descartes' method in The Meditations. Similarly, I have decided to start from scratch, developing new ideas as to what reality (perhaps mine in particular) really is.
"Is" is a funny word. It denotes an even funnier concept: being. If reality truly has being, then shouldn't we be capable of perceiving it? Often times, we do not. Instead of acknowledging reality for what it is, we get caught up in what we feel reality should be. We spend too much time dwelling on the past and/or envisioning what the future should look like. That's where we go wrong. The shoulders, could as, would as hold no true being in the now. It's simply not reality. Same goes for ideas about the future. I will allow that ideas concerning the future have somewhat of a role in the now, however, there is a very fine line where the ideas become more destructive than motivational. Sometimes life throws us curves, shattering our most precious dreams for the future. If we cannot adapt to the inevitable changes that will no doubt occur, then we have not succeeded in living. Getting stuck in life typically is a result of living in the past or the future, rather than the now.
With all this in mind, I pledge to quit dwelling on the past and to worry a little less about the future. As cliché as it sounds, I am choosing to believe that everything that's meant to be, will be. I will simply have faith in myself and my ability to make the best life for myself. Of course, there comes the reevaluation of everything I had perceived my life to be. But ultimately, it comes down to my pledge to choose my own reality, which happens to be the now. I no longer want to surround myself with superficial people who cannot grasp what it is to control their own reality. When we live under a mask of superficiality, we are not living in reality. However, despite this vow of choosing better company, I'll need to be careful to not judge too quickly. Judging itself can prove to be detrimental. I do not want to plead guilty to any more mistakes in life. Of course, I realize that error cannot be completely avoided but I do want to live my life in as pure a way as possible. I guess it really is simple after all: be true to myself. If I immerse myself in what I view as my reality-namely love, positivity, and truth- then I will have no choice but to smile and feel true happiness.
THE POEM
Okay, so this poem was given to me by my girlfriend which was given to her by her mom which was given to her by mom's friend...so I do not take any credit for this...I just liked it alot and though you guys might enjoy it as much as I did.
I knelt to pray but not for long,
I had too much to do.
I had to hurry and get to work
For bills would soon be due.
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer,
And jumped up off my knees.
My Christian duty was now done
My soul could rest at ease...
All day long I had no time
To spread a word of cheer
No time to speak of Christ to friends,
They’d laugh at me I’d fear.
No time, no time, too much to do,
That was my constant cry,
No time to give to souls in need
But at least the time, the time to die.
I went before the lord,
I came, I stood with downcast eyes.
For in his hands God! Held a book:
It was the book of life.
God looked into his book and said
“your name I cannot find
I once was going to write it down...
But never found the time”
Now do you have the time to pass it on?
WHAT'S BEST FOR ME
I woke up this morning with a new moon in my eyes. I took stock of the characters I’ve been playing and they’re nowhere near the potential of what I’m really worth. I carried a cross for too long and I’ve held on to the past to the point where it’s affected my present. Now I’m aware and I’m considering a new way of living without the pain and the self inflicted torture I’ve been putting myself through. It’s just as easy as making up my mind and following through with what I know is best for me. This is me now.
NEW MOON
I’m going stir crazy in this place all by myself. I’m getting frustrated and bewildered at the cards I’ve been dealt. I can’t find the time to describe the time I’ve been having trying to keep myself entertained and inspired. I have a saving grace and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s nothing there in the middle of the day when I’m going slightly mad at 4 in the afternoon. Maybe I’m gearing up for something huge and this is the calm before the storm, or perhaps this is the lullaby I live in while everyone else is working the week away. Either way it seems I have to find something to occupy my time and carry me through this slow moving, inch worm like motion of a day that is making me wonder what the new moon will bring.
2:19 AM
Awhile back we bought a new rug for the living room. It was pretty costly but it looked great and it was blue which is my favorite color. Within a few hours of the new lay down, my cat decided to claim one corner as hew new scratching pad. She pretty much fucked the rug up by morning wreaking a small havoc on the threads, but not to the point where it was destroyed. We had an instead to go back to IKEA and buy a smaller round rug to put on top of the new $200 rug we just bought, hoping my cat was merely territorial and not destructive. Our plan worked and now a five dollar topical rug serves as her scratch pad instead of the expensive rug. I also find her laying on it regularly in a semi-circle. Tonight as I was just about to fall asleep but I rather spent some time playing with her. She loves the little round rug so much. And I thought to myself how simple the idea was to solve this little kitty problem and how much happier we all are for having these little disasters work out perfectly. I wish that every idea I have would manifest so quickly and with such grace as this small example. I wish that I knew exactly which strategies to play that will work the best in real time in every aspect of my life as quickly as my cat took to that rug. I firmly believe that the work I’m doing now, believe it or not I will eventually bear fruit I can live off of. But I know that it won’t come easy as driving to the store to buy some sort of remedy. A year ago I didn’t have a couch to sit on, or a refrigerator to keep my beer cold, and I was stuck on the floor of this house realizing that sometimes the simple things in life are the most forgettable. I’m valiant in my efforts to realize the future, but I’m amazed at how much I forget to appreciate the present. I should work on that.
I HEART L.A.
I live in this town where the hills are crawling with hikers and the trails reek of dog shit and urine. I live in this town where the only value of theatre is the shock it sends to your system and not the quality of acting that I remember. I live in this town where souls are sold for a quarter and a bad of blow goes for twenty bucks. I live in this town where I find myself counting the days until I can leave to find some balance and when I get back I’m slowly drained of all inspiration and heart. I live in this town where I don’t like 99% of the people who are in the same game as me and it makes me wonder why I choose to do it anymore. I live in this town where it never snows but there seem to be flakes all year round, and I’m just as guilty as the next guy. I live in this town where excitement means a red carpet and paparazzi, and news is defined by the covers of trashy magazines that come out weekly. I live in this town where the billboards reach past the tallest building and star maps are used as a navigation system. I live in this town where I drive around alone but I’m always surrounded by idiots. I live in a town where the smallest detail is scrutinized and pickled apart for artistic integrity, but no one ever comes up with an original creative idea. I live in this town where money defines a lifestyle of comfort while the rest of us work jobs we loathe just to survive another day in this town. I love L.A.
THREE CHEERS FOR TYRANNY, AND UNAPOLOGETIC APATHY
It is almost humorous how attached we become to the things we own; how it can feel like a piece of your soul is missing when things are lost. Maybe, deep down, it is the invasion of your privacy that really scratches at you from the inside out. For a few nights now I have been waking up from dreams of being robbed- people threatening me and taking the things that I hold so dear. And one bad situation often makes you think of others- a whirlwind of "what if's" and "what would I do?'s". If you do not know, someone stole my band's van with all of our equipment inside of It (2 years ago). Besides the fact that nearly every dollar I have earned in the past..god knows how long...has been put into purchasing musical equipment, it feels like the tools of my passion are gone.
But on the other hand, the passion is not. The anger, the shock, the sadness...they all are being transferred into other feelings: inspiration, appreciation for what I do have, motivation, and, oddly enough, thankfullness. Since this has happened to us, people's true characters have truly been shown. I feel very gratefull to be a part of a community of people who care enough to try and help each other out when someone is down and out. It is truly incredible the amount of help that has been offered to us even in the simplest form of apologies. And I am reminded why I always believe in people unless given a reason not to because there is good in everyone. What does not kill you, will only make you stronger. Our band is going to be an impenetrable fortress.
And then there are those eyes. And the smiles. The murmurs. The slurs. The warmth of not being alone. It is comfort I forgot could exist feelings I forgot that I could have.
This could be a lot worse; I could be a complete mess right now. But I am not. In fact, I feel good. Everything in it's right place.
READ ME LIKE A F-ING BOOK
I have come to an interesting conclusion; had a realization of sorts:
It is much easier to live in the moment- seemingly, mostly carefree- when the moments are meaningless in the end. Not to say that every moment does not have meaning....but some moments of your life will undoubtedly stand out as much more significant than others. Anyways, I am getting off track. So, all of a sudden I am reminded of the way certain things can feel. And certain moments become engraved in my soul. Then they are over, naturally. And, as usual, I have trouble letting go of them. I want it to be like that all of the time. This leaves me completely frustrated with myself.
But really....I can do this. Just like I can do anything else. It's not like my confidence is shaken or my determination skewed. Questioning yourself and having a few challenges along the way are preferred anyways.
And I have been paid a few incredible compliments as of late- the kind that make you feel proud and embarassed at the same time. The kind that I will never forget.
Oh yeah, rock n fuckin roll will prevail.
YOU DONT BOWL OR RACE FAST CARS
If I can say everything, then let's say it all. I made a promise and I intend to keep it...but how different for me. A victim of my own thoughts. A simple explanation: I refuse to settle. Nothing but the best is good enough for me, and I can be disappointed if I want to; in myself, in the way things pan out, in the most insignificant of details. I want to be so much more- always. When you are feeling the happiest, the stings sting even worse. My emotions are heightened, and everything has become even more significant. Clearly, it is worth it because the numbness is so unattractive to me. Bring it on. Just bring the proof. And show me those eyes.
WHAT AN AMAZING FEELING
I have come to learn that love is one of the most beautiful things in life. However, I have also learned that love can be masked in a variety of ways. I have never felt more in touch with myself than I do today and I want to thank everyone who has been a part of the process. I will never be untrue to myself even if that means loving what cannot be returned to me. The most magical part of love is that it can exist in anything as long as one is willing to recognize it. If it is ignored, then it cannot blossom. I hope to never lose sight of the hope that such an intense feeling has given me. I will not let my past experiences bring me down because someone was unable to recognize what was right there in front of them. Even though it once felt that my heart was broken, I feel so fortunate that I now know what to do with the pieces: put them back together in a new way that surpasses what it was before. The beauty is that the pieces are the same with each and every memory still present. The memories simply come together to make a more complete person. This is my a-ha for now. I can't wait to experience many more a-has.
I'M STILL RIGHT HERE
Giving blood,
keeping faith.
And I'm still right here.
Completely content with who I am. Satisfied with the fact that I am never satisfied with who I am. Content to know that there is civil unrest inbetween my ribs and my spine. And completely ok to be nothing but a contradiction to myself. Confident in the insecurities that dwell within my head. And comfortable in the certain of uncertainty no matter how meticulously I plan.
I'm still right here.
JUST WONDERING
I was watching TV and this commercial came on and it went something like this……
“Don’t like your nose? Get a new one”
“Don’t like your job? Get a new one”
“Don’t like your spouse? Ugh, get a new one”
What happened to commitment? And standing by your decisions?
IF YOU FORGET HOW TO FEEL, REACH INSIDE YOUR CHEST
I was laying down on this slide- a spiraling, yellow piece of plastic that has a big sign on it letting you know that it was designed for 2-5 year olds. Anyways, I was laying on it and listening to the sounds of the park. A few crickets, the soft hum of the lights, the rustling of the sorry excuse for foliage, and even the deadening silence of 95 degree heat at 11:00pm. Welcome to the sprawling urban desert, I guess.
I digress:
If I was going to make a film, it would look like that. Not the opening credits or anything, but some scene of solitude and thought. The entire soundtrack of the film is already planned out in my head. And to me, this movie I'll never make feels like my life. Sometimes (a lot of the time?) it feels like I am watching my life from the perspective of an outsider. Like I am a telefoto lens on a telescoping boom arm, operated by some motivations that I cannot even begin to comprehend. I am following myself around and going through the motions together with myself- feeling the heavy steps, feeling the cold air in my lungs, feeling the adrenaline and the anxiety alike. The movie is filled with music- random songs with words that are either too obvious, or so disconnected yet relevant that you're going to have to make wrong assumptions. And that is like my real life, because it feels like whenever I need to say something important or am digging inside myself for answers, all that comes up is song after song after song. My brain, the jukebox; creator of the soundtrack of my life.
What does it sound like?
LOS ANGELES
Car door slams. Seat belt clicks. Radio turned loud.
Throwing the car in reverse, I light up a cigarette, and I'm off. I'm instantly lost in the beat of the music and the thick smoke burns in my lungs. Relaxation sets it.
Driving down Sunset Boulevard, I look at all of the posh eateries and trendy clubs. The realization that this is where everyone wants to be sends a feeling of empowerment and privilege through my body. I take the long way home to insure I get a view of the city, embellished with the city lights.
"This is where it all happens," I remind myself "this is big time, Dude."
The cool wind blows my hair all a mess, and the feeling of independence becomes almost a high. Reflecting on the last few months I'm realizing that I'm on my own, making it, in a town that I never imagined I would." I've learned so much. I've become so assertive and capable" I praise myself.
As I drive through the winding hills I begin to think of all of the people in this town that are doing something great; people that have come from small beginnings, like myself, and dreamed themselves to this city and experienced tremendous success. So many have done so well and been so blessed….
"Shit." Doubt kicks in. Anxiety smothers me. Staring into the crimson traffic light, I wonder if I will ever be one of those people. I doubt myself and my reasons for being here. I doubt my abilities, wondering "What can I do? I'm really not good at anything. I'm interested in a lot, yeah, but so what? So are a million other people out here! What am I doing to make something- ANYTHING- happen?" I torment myself with negativity. I wallow in self pity.
I look out over the city from the hill top. The once inspiring view becomes completely overwhelming and for a moment I feel so small, so insignificant.
"Deep breath" I whisper to myself. Scrolling through all of the dreams and aspirations I have for myself, including those I never tell anyone about, I convince myself they're worth it. I convince myself that I will make it, despite my own reservations. I take one last look and drive onto the small street that leads to my house. A feeling of calm washes over me as I realize I'm home.
I CAN HEAR YOU KNOW
When I am the most exhausted, is when I see things with the most clarity. My head is spinning from pushing myself to the limit, and yet everything seems so serene. Maybe it's a lack of energy left to worry, but the exhaustion is refreshing. I grind myself down to the bone, just to prove to myself that I can excel in anything I set my mind to. And as frustrating as it is to work and go to school for something that I might not have time to finish it is easier to find the self-satisfaction when every breathe is long, deep, and meaningfull.
I want to improve with every second I am alive. I will become greatness.
WISH ME LUCK
My career has been in neutral, but my job is everything I’ve wanted... in the meantime. My situation is happily overwhelming, but at the same time it drags me down. I couldn’t tell you the last time I wrote a song to a girl, but what I seek can’t be acknowledged from the lyrics other great men or women have wrote.
I come to you now in disillusion and with a great sense of confusion but I know that this is meant to be because I’m sharing it all with you.
Now I face the prime commitment, and I’m not sure what to do from here. Am I merely holding on to the past, and am I afraid of what the future might hold? (If I could just get off my ass to make it happen) I can’t seem to figure it out tonight, and for the life of me I may need some more time because this is all I’ve got to lead me into the unknown and the unseen. Wish me luck.
HOW TO BE ME
It kills me to think that maybe my problem stems from the reality that I really have nothing to complain about; (other than the fact I would like a bit more money, and a vacation lasting more than a week.) As sad a disposition and as cold a reputation I have for opening up to anyone at anytime, this is my hypocritical moment. This is the time when I say I don't really have it that bad, when in fact I have it quite good. But for all my whining and complaining and the pouting that I'm known for, what I really wish I was infamous for is something new to call my own, and something lucrative to take up most of my time. Maybe then I'd be able to realize how good it really is to be me.
IDK
believe me, it's not that I don't care....but I can understand how it may feel like that and look like that to everyone else today.
A LETTER TO GOD
Caught off guard
All worked up
The air is as dark and cold as night
Let me stay
I’m not done
I swear I’ll take just one lifetime
And I
I won’t lie
I won’t sin
Maybe I don’t wanna go
Can’t you wait
I really don’t want to go
I should have asked
I could have helped
At least a fucking thousand times before
Will this offer
Get me in
Or does this prove that they gave more
And I
I won’t lie
I won’t sin
Maybe I don’t wanna go
Can’t you wait
I really don’t want to go
BEING ME
I’m currently trapped between the never and the now. I used to live each day to the fullest extent of my imagination, but lately I’ve been just scraping by on my wits and my so called talent. I play guitar to remind myself that I can still jam and be the “rock star” I used to be. I’m living in a mindset that frequently disturbs my natural flow of thought, but I’m trying so hard to break that cycle. I couldn’t tell you the last time I felt like this because I’ve never felt like this before.
I can smile but it’s a fake one, and I can laugh, but it sounds more like a cackle these days. I’m guilty of being a guy at night, and I’m exonerated of acting like a man by the time the sun comes up. I’m a sinner and a saint, I’m a loser and my own best mate. I’m as clever as the wool that’s been pulled over your eyes...and I’m such a sucker for the truth that turns out to be a lie.
I’m self destructive and self aware, I have a cross that I must bear, and this time I’m fully aware of the difference between a gaze and a stare.
I’m 22 years young, but I’m feeling rather old these days. I’m collectively an anomaly and I’m kidding half the time. I live in the moment that I’ve forgotten as of late. It’s all my fault, It’s not my fault, it’s nothing I can’t work through. Cancer treatment, constant fighting with my parents, daily concerns and all these things are pilling up on me. Sometimes I want to break all sorts of commitments and be left alone. It’s overwhelming me and I’m starting to crack under the pressure. Sometimes I can’t deal with all the things that I have to go through.
MISSERY LOVES COMPANY
I'm done making myself live in the mess I create. I'm done feeling like I don't deserve the life I know I want. I'm done living for myself and I'm done acting like my actions don't affect anyone else but me this time. I know it's just as simple as deciding that I'm better than that, but it's still going to take some time for me to be able to accept that my life isn't as bad as I make it out to be. But I'm going to start today, and I'm going to make it through this time and come out stronger & wiser than I've ever thought possible.
A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS ON TINKERBELL
If you are a Tinkerbell fanatic, don't fuckin' talk to me. Tinkerbell may have had a great ass, but she was nothing but a dirty fucking cuntrag who needed to die. She hated Wendy unrightfully. It wasn't Wendy's fault that Peter Pan liked Wendy and not Tinkerbell. Tinkerbell should have been mad at Peter if she was going to be mad at anyone. But nooooo, Peter Pan could do no wrong in Tinkerbell's eyes (just like a girl to think that way). So Tinkerbell turns her back on everyone almost gets everyone (Wendy, John, Michael, the Lost Boys, even Peter fucking Pan!) killed. What a fucking bitch! And now people like her? Because she was curvy and had an attitude? What the fuck is up with that I ask you!? FUCK HER! FUCK TINKERBELL IN THE ASS! I don't clap for her, but i pray she gets the clap.
Alright then.....Just needed to get some anger out.....Phew
Sorry Tink!
-Cheers
Triks