It's been a while since I've written. I guess I've never considered myself much of a writer. I think that's a family passion that's passed me by or maybe I just didn't care enough to write. I, on occasional moments, will start to write consistently to alleviate the storms swirling in the chaos behind my eyes, but I'm indifferent to recognition. It's nice. but, what's the purpose of writing? Why do it? Its's a medium to communicate what I see, perhaps comical observations to the most but it's really the storm within. The chaos takes over and I push back on the debris being tossed on my porch and it comes out in writing. That simple, if, chaos is simple.
Sometimes the words I speak and write make me feel terrible, sometimes they don't. Sometimes I wish I could be normal like everyone else, but, fuck it. The only way you go hungry in this life is if you're an asshole. Or, at least a bigger asshole than me. I wouldn't change anything I've said, even the mean stuff. Sometimes people needed to hear it, others times I needed to say it, but mostly because life is too boring not to say something.
When it comes to relationships, I'm the bug light it seems -deep in the swamps of Lousiana with the emotionally distraught buzzing around to see what they think is "the light" in me and then they get too close and get hurt. Even when I turn the light off and try to hop on the bandwagon and start a love bug union in a seriously freakish looking sexual embrace, they end up getting hurt. I'm really just "a fool that's in love with the idea." but seriously, having sex in that position is overrated.
I don't know why I do the things I do, why I hurt people or why everything seems to be falling apart around me. I've been told by another poor soul washing dirty emotions out in a barley infused wash load in the laundry room we call the bar, where nothing gets clean, just lost in the dryer, that
"Everyone has three souls or alter-egos - the man he tells everyone he is, the one he tells no one, and the one he doesn't know. "
The older I get, the more comfortable I am with the one I don't know. He may fuck shit up but down the road, I'm glad he did.
"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."
-Aristotle
