Counted as yesterday. Feeling nostalgic and grasping on to old things before that might have been misunderstood in normal circumstance. The devil knows what I mean by that last sentence. Dark inhabitants of the dehydrated mind. Craving sustenance. but all of the hope in world lays in the proles. The outside majority influence of this nightmare utopian society, may have to be a re-read for me. IN th list for books that had heavy influence on me at the time, despite being easy to read or what. The mindset then must have been more open and introspective. Unconscious creation rather. It must have been so pure and untainted by vile chemicals that reduce perfect-functioning cells into lifeless falling branches, the kinetic energy dividing line, such a close fatalistic decision. What if... what if.... The cd left on the pool table. The credit card account information. The lack of funds. The strange desire to indulge into deviance. (Because I have an alcohol problem?). Take a step back for a second. But no. I know what I'm doing. The self-defeatist. Unraveling his darkened secrets into dark trap doors. Falling beyond understanding into sudden annoyance that some asshole is opening up his heart, some drunk son-of-a-bitch is preaching his time off the wagon, left behind and laughing in the dust kicked up by the wooden wheels traveling over rough terrain. But how they crossed the divide... Flashing city lights reflecting off of the surface of the water, a mirror that distorts the reflection, rippling real imagines, the lights dance with passing rowboats, quiet romantic couplets, a man singing and rowing, a background item, through the water-streets... Black with all rainbow but white highlights on the top of the stripes. Incredibly difficult to describe a once or twice glimpsed poster, black lit, in a back room. Brief and with the interruption of television and circumspect drug deals in the front living room where outsiders can see in and wish they were a part of the lifestyle or believe that their sober life is the right way to go about business, which is the opinion I have begun to believe in. More and more. Once I am 21 I must be able to maintain control of my life. (The old propaganda has sank back into my head. A poisonous 16 hour investment. of discussion and awful self-accusation. no one has the same back story. we cannot be compartmentalized. I am done. I am a statistic. But I will smile when they frame a mug shot. Ready for anything. In control but out of control. Silently reading or writing in my cell without any interaction with a crazy cellmate. The social tension and proximity would naturally be incredibly awful. No matter who. The tension unbearable. Can move wrist to write about it. Paralyzed in stiff boredom. Barely able to stay awake even through the brightest morning role call. Work out in the yard. But with no fear. Strong enough to run with them. Who the fuck says I can't hit the weights? I would sit and write and sell cigarettes on bleachers in the cold sun of the north. A couple of packs to break even and begin making real profit. Your last real connection to the living has fallen into a stupor. A tension coma. There is so much strain I can't hold myself together, here. ALIVe. in one swift motion. in a different swift motion i will give my hands a break and lapse into tropical dreams. One connnecting portal toward enlightenment. But it is nothing more than ramble. (You can see... yes? the powerful implications?)
Scissor kick through a crowd. A concert on a flat bed truck. Knock a girl flat. Stage gather dust inside, moved to a barn and play a decent show. (Now. Right now. If we could play weekly at a place like The Farm. The barn outback where limousines used to rust.. Beautiful daughter, it was agreed. But the parking situation and the event planners, all positive and cooperative. Not drunken bullshit. Well organized and non-profit. Make sure everyone is safe and has fun. A real saint, mixture of real and imagined perception and hot dogs and chips. Free food? Amazing. It's like they are trying their hardest, with all their damned will, to coax us deeper into their trap.
