epic sense of struggle
In the walls. In the walls and through the ceiling the voices are quickly, quietly lost in dust. I'm covered in everything, either cynically irresponsible or completely crazy. I know what the problem is. They say they're rodents. I beg to differ.
I'm under considerable stress to make the frayed ends of my life come together. I'm not sure if this is what a licensed psychiatrist would recommend... "Take your life and call me in the morning." I don't know. Maybe search for a second opinion. The problem is you and I would have never have gotten along famously unless I was for one, namely a beautiful female into gratuitous flashing just for the hell of it.
The problem is admission. Popcorn and a drink at a movie theatre ususally costs more than $20 dollars.
The problem is I do not even have a job to allow such occasions i.e: the one listed above.
The problem is the pen is mightier than the sword but the bullet is mighter than the pen and the educated lawyer is mightier than the bullet.
The problem is the press cares what the public thinks about them which is why the public only reads the paper for on average 2 minutes a day, a.k.a when they're taking a crap.
The problem is the public only listens to the president or prime minister on average of 20 seconds a day and not-to-secretly think he's full of crap.
The problem is the people really don't think that they can do much better.
The problem is that people seriously don't care what others think.
The problem is people straight don't give a shit.
It adds up. Then there's you and me. Common ground possibly established if you've read thus far, let us awake and make the mundane profound. For this second I am sending out an open call welcoming "whatever will mail and commentary" The green light to forum in traditional two-dimensional format.
These are the notes that will outlast my very being after my death. It'll show what I was going through in my movements before the one day that I die. It is the inspiration going through me to create something current out of my immediate environment that I cannot stomach enough in time to turn it around and make precious. A time other than this, that revolves around a chance and the psyche in such surrealism.
Then again, I could tell you about the time I had seen Canadian stand up comic (of Anglo-Indian descent) Russell Peters perform live right in front of my eyes, could have but didn't. I had a vision quest and saw a river made of diamonds next to a highway of sulphuric exhaust. Should have but no slice. Encouraged physical education in youth to battle obesity while at the sametime walking my dog using the invisible leash. No dice. Drowned myself in a juvenile intellect that has little need or regard for anything resembling actualities beyond perhaps a life to lose in a callow engagement. Altogether unromantic and devoid of any epic sense of struggle. Scratched.
I'm under considerable stress to make the frayed ends of my life come together. I'm not sure if this is what a licensed psychiatrist would recommend... "Take your life and call me in the morning." I don't know. Maybe search for a second opinion. The problem is you and I would have never have gotten along famously unless I was for one, namely a beautiful female into gratuitous flashing just for the hell of it.
The problem is admission. Popcorn and a drink at a movie theatre ususally costs more than $20 dollars.
The problem is I do not even have a job to allow such occasions i.e: the one listed above.
The problem is the pen is mightier than the sword but the bullet is mighter than the pen and the educated lawyer is mightier than the bullet.
The problem is the press cares what the public thinks about them which is why the public only reads the paper for on average 2 minutes a day, a.k.a when they're taking a crap.
The problem is the public only listens to the president or prime minister on average of 20 seconds a day and not-to-secretly think he's full of crap.
The problem is the people really don't think that they can do much better.
The problem is that people seriously don't care what others think.
The problem is people straight don't give a shit.
It adds up. Then there's you and me. Common ground possibly established if you've read thus far, let us awake and make the mundane profound. For this second I am sending out an open call welcoming "whatever will mail and commentary" The green light to forum in traditional two-dimensional format.
These are the notes that will outlast my very being after my death. It'll show what I was going through in my movements before the one day that I die. It is the inspiration going through me to create something current out of my immediate environment that I cannot stomach enough in time to turn it around and make precious. A time other than this, that revolves around a chance and the psyche in such surrealism.
Then again, I could tell you about the time I had seen Canadian stand up comic (of Anglo-Indian descent) Russell Peters perform live right in front of my eyes, could have but didn't. I had a vision quest and saw a river made of diamonds next to a highway of sulphuric exhaust. Should have but no slice. Encouraged physical education in youth to battle obesity while at the sametime walking my dog using the invisible leash. No dice. Drowned myself in a juvenile intellect that has little need or regard for anything resembling actualities beyond perhaps a life to lose in a callow engagement. Altogether unromantic and devoid of any epic sense of struggle. Scratched.
posted by daneatkinson at 27.9.06
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home