Thursday, June 28, 2007

Time travels alone.

Once I wrote this thing for Blim.
I just wanted to put it back here.
For me.


What point of living, if not for love?
What do you think you are living for, if not for love?
When it all ends, will you think, I was free, I was rich, I was creative, I was famous?
What of that feeling, love, that you dream of, that you hold dear, that you hope for and pray for and that you cherish and feed and grow with and are constantly surprised by?

The meaning of life is love. The end. The whole point of our fucking existence is to transcend the menial details that constantly bombard us, that distract us and send us plummeting downward, that turn us sour and hating, that create war and politics and animosity. The point is to move one step beyond that, and love the fuck out of all around you.

Call your friends, your family, your lovers. Tell them you love them. Hold their hand, smile at them when events transpire against you, let go of the bullshit, travel into the centre of your fucking being and strip it all away until you are able to love. Yes! There are so many facets to our lives, exploration, explanation, examination and excitement. But does it all not dull in your eyes in comparison to love?

The very thought of love makes us smile. The very hope that it exists is enough to give us the strength to carry on, day to day. Would I wake up in the morning if I thought love did not exist? If I was living for the pay off, the magazine cover, the merchandise? Doesn't love get you out of bed? Isn't there hope for a fucking future as long as there is love? Am I being incredibly fucking cheesy? YES. But it is SO FUCKING IMPORTANT DON'T YOU SEE? Don't you feel me crying as I write this for if you do not understand what I feel, how can you live? I mean LIVE.


This is my God, this notion of love. This dream. This Earth. This is my religion, this is my aim.

More often than not, I find myself on a rollercoaster of expectation. Trying to fulfill a potential I believe exists within me, trying to live a dream within a dream and make something out of the circumstances that make up my life. Sometimes, I give up, judged a failure by the jury of myself, and sit at the end of the bar. Henry Chinaski, Archibald Rum, no love, no philosophy, just numb me, numb me, NUMB ME NOW. But if I don't get this out right now, this moment will be lost. And this lesson is far too important, TO ME, to forget.

I'll be embarrassed by this, I know myself. I'll be angry and sore and hurting and I won't understand the meaning of what I write, and I'll read it back and idiot.

But I'll be wrong, and I'll know it.

What fucking purpose to life, if not love.


I've remembered something important.

I hope you're safe out there, wherever you are.


1 comment:

  1. fummy. I was reading your writings about this just this weekend past.spooky.