That's more of a float, where my feet lift from the ground. Then comes mind and its desire to take me away. For a thousand reasons, it's not surprising...arrival in January, in the cold, in the infancy of 2009. Right now, it's this feeling of a constant Sunday...and from my eyes, in this moment, nothing moves. I think most people never feel what I'm talking about. And for the majority who do, their feeling comes later. Right around the time when the tragic resolutionary mask starts to peel away.
And that's not a dig. Actually, with the tone, maybe it is. Believing in resolutions is like believing in God. I have an opinion...and it's hard like the bricks in my head - but above everything, I absolutely respect the paths we all take...even when my heart doesn't. No one can be shown the way. Gotta see it...
So I say whatever it takes! And yes, with exclamation. That's what I always self-remind, that's what my mind always tells me when I'm looking out onto the entirety of the world. It's how I deal.
But this...this Los Angeles...this today...
When I feel like I'm breathing through stagnant or recycled air...and when the beats turn to stretches turn to whatever it is that's longer than a stretch, I start to lose a little bit of my shit and dream of taking off to find another place to ditch to. It's not escaping. It's not running. It just is...because the only thing left for me to crave in this world is growth. Someday, if I ever calm the fuck down, maybe I'll look back and smile...try to swim through the deconstruction of my former self. Until then, this is what I got. This is what's got me.
...
So I'm sitting here, at a table across from the world. And it (the world) is wearing a cut T and a gay ass trucker hat that I thought was cool at some point, too...like ten years ago. Okay, maybe 5...which I guess could justify a comeback, maybe...if you really owned your shit -- but anyway...
Anyway, it's looking at me -- the world, mind you -- with this smug tone, maybe because it's mocking me, saying..."really, tell me, how exactly are you going to take me on...all of me. I'm just dying to know."
My answer is too big to respond, too delicate, and I'm sitting here thinking the world looks kinda like a sleaze, wondering if it'll even get what I have to say, all I have to say, then if everything is is just a front for something much wiser and all-knowing and suddenly I want to say everything at once, a thousand words in a minute and in that instant, I realize, actually...I don't need to say anything...
As long as I know.
So I let my eyes speak, say it all...and in them, I tell it -- either I will or I wont and it was nice meeting you and it was nice sitting with you but I'm going to go and you should really look into picking up a new look, cause brother...sister, whatever the hell you are -- it's spent.
...
I've got this nagging problem. I think all along, I've been meant to have it. Simple comfort will never be good enough...
So, as part of my ever evolving self-medication, I'm going reach for fires that burn -- knowing they'll do just that...for little reason but to get exactly that. I'm sure there's a word for this behavior...a word someone invented, long ago that describes, in terms, everything I'm feeling, have felt. And I know there are plenty of people out there, flocks ready and waiting, with their labelers in hand, ready to slap foreheads and stamp wrists and categorize and clean up and fit everything and everyone exactly in their place...
And that's great...and I'm happy for them.
But for the momentarily ill-conceived and selectively malcontent, I say, with all my grace...
Chew on my elbow.
