A life, through time, looks much like a dissected cadaver. Your childhood, like your right thigh, connects to the hamstring of your adolescents in thin tendons of angst and rebellion. Bones built of careers, degrees and summer loves. Each system equally responsible for survival but none of them can exist independently. The body itself is not a body at all but an amalgamation of nostalgia, a verity pack of experiences whose relevance is completely subjective to the other flavors of experiences incased in the pack. I only know that this moment is wild chary because the last was nacho cheese. When all of these tastes happen in succession the body of your life begins to take shape. Change is imperative, sometimes you have to eat shit to taste ambrosia. The only real continuity or perspective that can be derived from a life like a dissected cadaver is in its abnormalities. That period of my early teens devoted to self-destruction is only bad when splayed next to my healthy late teens. Depression looks like an inflamed liver. The time I spent in New Hampshire after my band broke up like a runners heart. Living for me is at best like a surrealist trying to paint a self-portrait. If Im lucky it looks like impressionism, and hopefully some kids giggling across the gallery can see the subtleties blending into a rose garden. Unfortunately it usually ends up looking like melting clocks and floating pipes, something so bizarre that collage kids want to put it up on their wall to look at when they get high. I try to jump back and forth. I try to become a pinky toe when I have been teeth and bone for three years. I hop on a plane, see an old friend or start skating again. I tell my self that I am the unchanged and significant rock that the river of life thrusts itself against. Its not like that, it can be for a week, a year or a decade, but eventually you will become the river. Thats what Im hoping for at least. That my stories slowly erode to the ocean where there is a little kid building sand castles with the broken down granules of my breakdowns and breakups; I hope that this will be the body of my life. A variety pack of friendship bone gristle and long distance tendons that make up some kids day on the shore.

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