Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Come get it, I got it.

The good thing about the choice I face right now, is that it's no choice at all.

It's forward or forward, a one way street.

********

The way to walk through fire is to find a centred peace within yourself, exhale and move slowly. So when I've finally had enough of a familiar ache, where do I go? What do I do?

I get in the car, drive to a friend's house. He's waiting out the front, he's holding a paper bag. We're excited. We're pumped. This is what life is all about. It's been too long. Too fucking long.

I stop at the bottle shop. We're going to need it.

Back in the car, and we hit the road just as the sun decides it wants no part of what's to come and bashfully sinks behind its lover, the horizon.

We pull up at the place and head inside.

I'm home.

I open the Taltarni Shiraz, it's a fucking awesome drop.

My friend sets everything up in my backyard.

And we play Chess, for hours.

And it's fucking fantastic.

********

When I'm kicking myself, brought up on failure, desperation and loneliness, I think I'm behind everyone. I think I'm missing out, on culture, on fun, on gigs, on parties, on friends who were friends.

Oh, but that's crazy talk.

Crazy talk from a guy who deep down knows that happiness lies buried in the dirt, in the Earth, and in flight with the wind, in the thunder of waves and dancing in the white heat of an open fire.

There are greater truths out there, than the menial shit we all concern ourselves with.
And fuck, sometimes, the deceptive heart casts emotive spells which we think are reality.
But if you can get through them, and see the past as it truly is, and people as they really are,
then you're on the way.

I don't know, depends what your ambition is really.

Some people just want to stay the same.

I just can't anchor myself to them anymore.

It retards my ability to see the path I'm on, which is a good 'un, you'll have to trust me.

Even if it bores you.

********

To two beautiful fucking people, who reminded me of who I can be.

1 comment:

  1. "...sometimes, the deceptive heart casts emotive spells which we think are reality."

    Fucking Ace line there brother. You sometimes write in a hybrid of prose and poetry.

    Prosetry?

    ReplyDelete