Wednesday, September 27, 2006

If you can't stand the heat

They run me out of town.

or should I say, I run myself out of town, because years of madness is years too long.

And honestly?

The desert holds many treasures and many towns. I always knew that.

So in a town named Hell's Kitchen, three kindred souls convene a meeting of the Self Sabotage Club. And laugh sadly at the desperate nature of themselves.

I was called abusive because I damned someone to Hell by text, I say. I may have been quite pissed off.

My partners, though they try, cannot take away the pain because the pain is mine this pain inside, she says.

And I, the third says, well...I just know I belong here, but for now, my story remains untold.

We raise our glasses to the long road ahead.

We are the Self Sabotage Club. We fear no one but ourselves. From here on in we shall try to surround ourselves with light, not darkness, and position ourselves with the sun behind us, to blind those in front. Life is enough of a bitch already, without fuckers like us in it. But we will never surrender, and never stop trying to change.

And laughing, we cheers, though inside our stomachs stir a little.


Outside in the heat, a lilting voice calls me toward it.

A man sings with beauty, yet avoids its melancholic core.

I walk into the saloon and surrender my soul to him.

Ron Sexsmith, you're a fucking genius.

1 comment:

  1. howdy stranger.
    i like the desert. i was in a saloon in the centre of this country the other week with a Lady and a barrel full of peanuts.
    i think everyone needs to go there once. sometimes when the city gets too full on i retreat to the desert in my mind. and the saloon, which is real despite the dreadful country singers there with their too loud mics.
    it's a good trick to learn.
    better than that beach palm tree shit anyday.