It’s in there, somewhere

It’s a strange life and I

could probably be doing more good

or at least be doing better

for someone

I remember that first day he walked, the look on his face when I asked him who was walking, and he shouted,


and these days we fight him on every square centimeter of right and wrong, good and bad, just trying to reason with someone who is operating on a different plane of existence.

Life is a trip,

in that it’s a journey through places and experience

but also in that it feels like trying to explain what’s funny when you just peaked on five hits of LSD

and I swear I’m not trying to scam anyone or even misrepresent my motives, I just want to live life and get paid fairly for doing what I’m skilled at doing

and I’m not even humble-bragging, I’m not talking about earning a living as a writer

I understand that the things I write are not a commodity.

The people that need what I’m selling deserve a break, a freebie, just one time we deserve a fucking drink on the house, so I’m pouring without a thought of what’s in the till,

We’ll sing all the old songs. (Edwin McCain)

Life is what you make it, I’ve been told. It’s what you make it. It’s how you take it. It’s where you shake it and all the ways you fake it, it’s whether or not you break it, you can bet on the fact that life is going to give you an opportunity to regret what you decided wasn’t worth trying, but I’ll be goddamned if you won’t also see how the things you did should’ve been left unstarted

Life is wearing your best suit on the day that nobody is happy to see you, and life is a shot of vodka after you started the car, life is a fucking handjob when you feel like vomiting, you don’t want to say no but it probably won’t be what it should be

I’m rambling again

It’s been awhile since I’ve let myself feel anything special, or sincere

I stopped reading stuff and interacting and talking and I stopped giving my heart away in every line that hooked me, I stopped feeling everything that isn’t tired or horny, I stopped living a few years ago and I’m not sure how to, if I even can, get the engine cranked back up, or if I even want to go that route,

I’ve been feeling like a corpse walking around with its life hanging out

and it’s a little disconcerting how fiercely everyone defends my life

except for me,

But they do, they fight me for me and that’s the one thing I’ve resisted doing for anyone else for my whole life, I’ve always felt I shouldn’t have to fight against a person on that person’s behalf and somehow it’s me,

It’s me

Life is fucking clown-shoes, it’s almond butter on a steak, it’s a river of gold flowing underneath a burnt bridge, and you are tied to a tree full of fire ants and sadness

Verily, I say unto thee,

Don’t get in where you fit in

Stand outside with your garishly painted signs, wave your unicorn hair and flip your mermaid find because life,life, life…

Life is a ruiner.

Life is the ender.

Life is going to get you.

I remember the moment I decided to start sharing myself with everyone…

It was the day after I did something horrible and unforgivable.

Life is what it wants to be

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