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12 January 2006

and gain some respect

to be thrown a crumb
i was on my knees
when you knocked me down

ween. crantastic. recently, a friend compared my writing to Hemmingway, due to its efficiency and clarity. some days earlier, I was told my sentences are two long, and that I should cut them down a bit, to save space and to allow the reader to fill in the blanks, and not be beggared by my windless prose. ah well. selah.

i smell blood in the air. not only due to recent dramatic events around me. partially of course, but the turmoil of my daily life only reflects the chaotic maelstrom which howls within. I am a man apart, torn between the routine of bingeing and partymaking, and a demanding but strangely fulfilling job.

my only refuge is here, and when talking with my broodmembers, who know how to calm the beast, and bring out the light. mahalo.

with herculean effort did I make it through the day. pushing myself on my nearly broken bycicle, matching the speed of the combustive commuters. fools all. making minor mistakes at work, pressured by my new coworker, who could be my mother. I will not demand of her respect, but force her to see the good thinking behind showing it to me.

self-destruction is the name of the game. driving to the edge of reason, of accountability, then lying and cheating your way back into the fold, until the bleakness and sheer boredom of it forces you out.

i fear to bind myself, even temporarily, to a woman, for i will break her heart. leap i will at the first opportunity, and hang not my head in shame when she curses and shouts at me, for secretly, I would have done it on purpose. the lashing and flensing of a woman in love bites and grooves the soul in such tender fashion.

when love dies, it mends. when compassion dies, it tends to limp back at some point or other.

Time, friend. live today as if it were your last. buy a gun, and shoot something living. and if you find yourself cornered, you can always say you were forced to do it by the frothing, overweight mountain of a woman who bore your first.

whatever.
X

1 comment:

H said...

everyone's a critic. heed the comments on certain things, but certainly not on something defines YOU. fuck em all, write what feels right!
good stuff lately.