I digress

Ignore that last post.
That was complete bullshit.
...seriously, what the hell was I thinking?

Can't Hitch No More.

The good news is simple. I'm going soon.
I still wait for the call, but it's either going to be New York or Los Angeles.
I'll take the long road to either.
Because isn't that what life is supposed to be? The greatest love story ever?
I still think so.
I've been compromised. Time to reboot.

Wasteland

I am not Iron Man.
I am flesh, bone, meat and thought.
I am an axis of skin hanging from a matrix-spine.
And I feel.
Often times, perhaps, too much. However, on this day, this idle Friday, where nothing exists out of the ordinary. In which no history will be remembered or changed, I stand improved.
I stand man.
Although I have my reservations of the feminization of society, I find the progress acceptable by most coherent standards. Fruitbearers now determine fruit.
And then there is this obsession, still to be consumed with, or, by another. To hold a face. To smile with eyes. To glisten as teeth, accidentally clash against the others.
But Know Thyselves, they say. And I must.
I must purge forward to understand.
I am grasped to propel forward. I am gasped with intention.
A hope to reject this wayward wandering of my soul. A longing to find a wave of solid momentum and trap the feeling.
Complacency be damned. I am no radical, but must learn to stand for my own.

A Big, Massive Stroke.

Ok. Fine.
So, there are those true purists; the children in adult bodies, who claim it could only end for them in a rain of gunfire and screaming poetry.

Not the case.

You're not going to die a gangster unless you're a gangster.

...and I'm not a fucking gangster.

You know what's worse than slowly withering away in a hospital bed, waiting to be consumed by either cancer or time?

Nothing.

Well, maybe getting your dick chopped of by a manacle clown with separation anxiety.
Ever notice that? This new co-dependant, always connected life that is forever purging ahead? But not forward. We are living on a stationary bike, hands grasped around a remote and blackberry.

I'm turning off my cell phone. I'm tired of being connected.

But I digress...A big, massive, fucking stroke.

That's how I want to go.

Hugs and Kisses.