some words for you

I've got 2,109 words for you.



We were talking endlessly about things like Jack Kerouac and the ages of enlightenment every 150 years and what's next? I keep wondering about stuff like does music have a future or will the pendulum swing all the way back to tribalism? Its all like revivalist this and post this that and every other form of bullshit that I can and cannot think of. then there's this constant talk and obsession with recession and I hardly give a damn about that. the day drags on and I'm thinking constantly about selling everything I own and just buying a bicycle. burning my cellular phone and who gives a goddamn about text and twitter and technology and its all this yadda yadda yadda analysis and we're all sitting on our couches talking yadda yadda about the yadda yadda with our stupid friends and our stupid selves. every day I'm inside some air conditioned sanctuary- my job my car my house I'm turning into a fucking ball of slime.

Doing time. Just doing time like a prisoner in a jail cell, just anticipating that holy 'just beyond the horizon' only the world is round and you're not gonna reach the end of it but I'm like this piston on a train and it's rolling and rolling and I'm so sure of where I'm going. Then there's the sex thing. Pressure constantly on my mind and in my dick. There's a pretty set of legs or eyes or teeth or tits or whatever she's showing me right now and I'm like yes baby but I'm also like eyes on the prize but nobody else cares a bit about the dream and the passion inside its all who's fucking who and drugs drugs drugs. so I'm fighting the system and trying to keep focused but what's the point when you're lonely? I was trying to describe why I'm anti-war and halfway through I'm thinking I hope all the sane people are and it's the idea off preventative warfare that drives me up the wall. so somewhere war leads to why killing another person is the greatest abomination imaginable to my mind. contemplate this: there you are. you see yourself as this ever growing ever learning beautiful person. you are moved by music ( if either Bob Dylan or at least the Beatles don't come to your mind you can just go kill yourself as far as I care) you are moved by a sunrise, you have passion, you feel love, you feel anger, you feel awe and wonder at the immensity of the universe when you look at the stars. you see yourself as this human body with a boiling volcano of ideas passions and intellect. Stop. now realize that every single one of us is exactly that. Now realize that we as humanity are the greatest living beings and essentially kings of this earth. now imagine you yourself knowingly choosing to end this. to stop all the possibilities of a sentient existence with a single stroke. To understand the simple glories of roasting a marshmallow over a campfire or the mad brilliance of playing a concerto and to say no, I choose for this not to be is almost incomprehensibly tragic and horrendous. there was a point...so I was discussing this matter and said that my definition of love had a connection in that to be truly understood is to be loved. to understand all that drives another individual, to feel the same holiness of things of the world, to know what binds and drives and tears and mutilates the spirit of another. to know all these things and to resonate in similar ways is to love another. to truly give a damn about someone and admire their passion and spirit and intellect as well as the body.

I can't even list all the people who obsess with the idea of love yet cannot give me a satisfactory meaning of it. then there are all these people who can't last two weeks without a relationship. honestly, I think everyone I know is like that. All you need is Love, I was saying to this couple and I was thoroughly drunk and the Beatles again and again. you have to evolve. there were words written just at the eyeline of the urinal at my college. they said TIME TO EVOLVE. how great is it that you can find philosophical wisdom scrawled in pen along the grouting of a wall where people piss? that's either fucking hilarious or beautiful or depressing but I'll think about it. But then again there are so many things to think about like global warming and starving African children and I'm fussing at the same time about stupid shit like why terminator 3 sucked and indiana jones 4 sucked worse and godammit everyone keeps telling me to stop smoking. My friends and I call it our daily suicide and we all laugh and we're so funny and even nihilism becomes a punchline. I wish I could be a nihilist but I'm such a hopeful romantic. And I'm hopeful and hopeful that I'm not going to turn into Charles Foster Kane as I age. I can't ever rest. there's this sick energy constantly flowing in me and where does that come from? I'm so idealistic and I have these goals and please for the love of everything what do women really want?

And my friends and I were drinking beer at this Irish place and we were trying to list some rules of the world in half-assed way that's deep in one way yet completely humorous in another depending on which position you were sitting at that old wooden table. Chicks dig guys on bikes that was mine and then Brent said Black people don't tip and we all laughed. yea that's awful but being waiters made us all somewhat racist. I'm not, I hope. We're all jokers and existentialists when we drink. That's great and I love the insane people the best because normal is a fucking boring joke. It's great to me that Colin, the softspoken guy, is so musical and intelligent and all that jazz and bullshit and at the same time his favorite humor is boogers and farts. Wonderful irony. My dad has this thing where he says 'Define Irony' and everybody scratches their heads. I like to think of myself as a constant head scratcher. I'm always deliberating about the philosophical meanings of every action and where does karma fit in in this chaotic world? its it all small stuff? and who the fuck determines what the positives and negatives are? and equal measures? does killing a roach equal a stubbed toe or is it cosmically worse? I wonder and wonder and I see the future in terms of the allegory of the cave, always turning closer and closer to the light of truth. I think about things like that and what it means to be a truly great individual, and I'm trying hard to be Howard Roark. And what does Bruce Springsteen know about life that I don't? What a sad world this would be without music. I think I'd kill myself without it. I think I'd kill myself if I ever worked in a cubicle. Please shoot me if I ever do. You have my consent.

So back to the Irish bar and Brent is saying if he could ask god one question it would be why? just why? why what? no no he says. just why. I told him that was a bunch of dramatic bullshit. He's a special kind of atheist called a theothanatologist which translates to that he believes God is Dead. One of those Nietzsche lovers. Everyone there said that a philosophy simply existing to oppose another philosophy( or religion or whatever) was a weak and invalid one. It felt like one of those shock value things. So then we're arguing karma again and Brent is a firm believer in that. I said that a belief in karma states that there is a force ruling the positives and negatives and he agreed and it continued on and I said that was a pretty religious sentiment and he got a kick out of that and he showed me one of his favorite books. it was The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran and I haven't read it but I flipped through and I said that for an atheist's favorite book, it sure was full of religious references. he got a kick out of that too, and we're always trying to poke holes in each other's logic, Colin, Brent and I, and that's a great game when you're drunk. I'm always the one who instigates these conversations. I love to learn and I love hearing what people have to say. we were all bored and got kicked out of the place a few months later because it was two a.m. and there was debate about going to the waffle house out in the parking lot.

It was Colin, Brent, Lilia, and I. That's a cool gang there. So we heard noise coming from somewhere in the neighborhood and basically sober we went to investigate. We found this big mansion all decorated with caution tape and there was a party with loud music on the second story balcony. Colin pushes me to this idiocy to get us into the party. so I yelled up to there pretending to be a cop checking on a noise complaint. they come see and we tell them its a joke and they say who the fuck is that! Brent says the bar closed and we weren't finished! the tell us to come on up then! Within ten minutes there we are me and my fucking cool crew drinking vodka with people who all had at least ten years on us in this mansion for free and I keep looking at Colin with a look of How the fuck did this happen? with an idiot's grin on my face and some strange chick sitting in my lap taking pictures of everybody. Near five in the morning we left and I was trashed as I had ever been and we all walked to Colin's house where he lives with this amazing chick Casey who he used to date a decade ago and her mom Candy who is cool as hell. I fell asleep puking worse than I can ever remember and woke up still drunk. I was pretty much drunk all day and now when I look at alcohol my stomach gets nervous.

Later on in the week it was all us waiters from the sushi place and were al rambling and irritating each other just for kicks and this guy Ramses says he wished he was around during the 60s, that he would have been so awesome back then. I turned and said fuck that! Fuck your nostalgia, you need to be awesome now! In our time! I remember Brent got a kick out of that. too many people give me that load of garbage that the 60s were so great and if only. That's all fantasy to me and I think people have always had rose-colored shades about the past, even the past they weren't around for. Now is our time and you have to push it now and refuse on a daily basis to grow into one of those constantly looking back sort of people and refuse to grow old. It infuriates me that people settle. I can't I refuse to settle for the simple crap of nice cars and big houses. None of that matters. I hate materialistic people, and damn if those aren't abundant. I'm totally happy with my shitty car. nice clothes fade. Too many people obsess with wealth and money and Nike and Corvettes and things. all that matters is fulfillment of the passions of the spirit. I love the term Bohemian. I love the lyrics of Bob Dylan. I love smoking in my underwear at 3 in the morning. I love playing like shit on the harmonica but every other drunk in the room thinks its great. I love the ministry of funny walks. I love vinyl records. I love the term enlightenment. I love ugly people. I love ugly dogs. I love the sound of the rain on my roof. I love saying fuck. I love Shiner Bock. I love the films of Stanley Kubrick and Quentin Tarantino. I love you for actually reading all this rambling bullshit. I know that I'm a hypocrite and a procrastinator and a general fuck-up, but I'm working on it.