a common complaint
there are times when it just can't get loud enough. mostly it's in the car, and driving alone, and in that odd headspace that happens to us all sometimes. mostly it's listening to the brutal shit, the horrific aggressive rasp that sounds like dynamite blowing up or the short fuse hissing down to the cracker. the raw sound of it all can get right into my head and echo there 'til it stings like a whistle or a siren and sometimes it isn't enough even then, I still find myself craving a higher peak, greater intensity, some way of drawing the energy up and outta those places where it builds up and gets stuck when I get angry or stressed or confused or all three at once, like when I wake up from the dreams like I had last night. dream 1 -- bad things with the girl. lead to a conversation once I woke up. it's alright now I guess, but fuck, some of that shit turned out to be true, I dreamt it and it was true, or at least the warning of it was true. fucking hell, that's surreal, it fucks with my head and hurts my brain stem, makes me want to get in water, makes me want the red woody heat of bourbon which I'm drinking right now, now, makes me try to get the music in there, the vigorous loud shit, and get it loud enough to let me let myself be for a while, to try to cool off and keep away. what have I learned? aside from casual facts, nothing that I didn't already know. what to make of it? shit, I don't know. isn't that always the question, the quorstion, what we make of it, what matters? the fucking how and the why of it, I get hung up on 'em sometimes. what to do with it? we'll see. wing it. we're keepin' it real, folks. and the point? the underlying point? for fuck's sake, fuck it, for my sake and for yours too, don't lie to me. I will always sniff it out, even if it has to come to me in a dream. you don't have to grow up on the farm to smell the bullshit a mile away. please, as a personal favor if that's what you need to call it. don't lie to me.
isn't it obvious? give me the straight talk and the people that talk it, that walk it, that bring it, that keep it real. anything less than that, and fuck, is that really asking so much(?) makes me mad, mad, mad. makes my head hurt.
I used to drive a truck in Colorado. there was a lot going on there that made me angry, honestly. I remember finding something that helped, this sequence of music that I could put on and go through that would over the course of about two and a half hours intensify the feeling and then slowly transmute it to raw power and vitriol, but put it enough behind me or before me or beneath me or something that I wasn't mired down in it and I could see a little clearer. driving home today was only about twenty minutes; not enough for the full thing, but fortunately I had some of what I wanted right in there with me, I grabbed it last night, maybe half knowing that I was going to have one of those dreams that would make me want it at some point during the day, once I got to the bottom of things, and once I could get away and get quiet afterwards. fuck an lj cut. I can't be bothered to code. fuck code. talk to me straight up or sit the fuck down.
dream 1 -- I got to the bottom of it. I cleared away some bullshit in the process and GOD but am I thankful for that. it's the best thing that happened all day, probably, ultimately, even if, etc., see above. there's still the whole question of WHY, and of why why, as in, does why matter, or do I need to chill the fuck back and leave well enough alone? Admittedly, I've had a problem making that distinction for years. I'm more of a pusher. I'm more of a let's get into it kinda dude. there's plenty of shit that I don't understand, and admittedly, I'm also kind of obsessed with understanding things. sometimes I question whether or not that's part of the problem. but ultimately, I doubt it. fuck it.
you know what I've gotten three of my friends for their birthdays, in the past two weeks? Bullshit stoppers. Bigass sharp knives, bullshit-stopping blades. One of my dearest wishes for myself and everyone I dig and really for the world at large is an end to the bullshit. One of my friends wrote something in a high school yearbook that I still count among the greatest wishes/blessings/hopes that anyone has ever shared with me or bestowed upon me: it amounted to a paucity of bullshit, that there would be none of it brought to me. right? that's some of the best we can hope for.
dream 2 -- saw an old friend, now a violent, loony drunk, at a table, and he took my hand and thanked me for my support, patience, love, whatever else. I woke up thinking, fuck, man. I hope he isn't dead. I hope that wasn't a goodbye. I hope that wasn't his understanding coming as a last hurrah. but knowing that the first dream was a true warning hasn't exactly made me feel better about the point or the message behind the second one.
I have a sense of having forgotten something. it's driving me a little crazy. I have that feeling like right before the phone rings, right before the fish strikes, right after the fourth count but before the first note. what's coming? I've already had enough.
isn't it obvious? give me the straight talk and the people that talk it, that walk it, that bring it, that keep it real. anything less than that, and fuck, is that really asking so much(?) makes me mad, mad, mad. makes my head hurt.
I used to drive a truck in Colorado. there was a lot going on there that made me angry, honestly. I remember finding something that helped, this sequence of music that I could put on and go through that would over the course of about two and a half hours intensify the feeling and then slowly transmute it to raw power and vitriol, but put it enough behind me or before me or beneath me or something that I wasn't mired down in it and I could see a little clearer. driving home today was only about twenty minutes; not enough for the full thing, but fortunately I had some of what I wanted right in there with me, I grabbed it last night, maybe half knowing that I was going to have one of those dreams that would make me want it at some point during the day, once I got to the bottom of things, and once I could get away and get quiet afterwards. fuck an lj cut. I can't be bothered to code. fuck code. talk to me straight up or sit the fuck down.
dream 1 -- I got to the bottom of it. I cleared away some bullshit in the process and GOD but am I thankful for that. it's the best thing that happened all day, probably, ultimately, even if, etc., see above. there's still the whole question of WHY, and of why why, as in, does why matter, or do I need to chill the fuck back and leave well enough alone? Admittedly, I've had a problem making that distinction for years. I'm more of a pusher. I'm more of a let's get into it kinda dude. there's plenty of shit that I don't understand, and admittedly, I'm also kind of obsessed with understanding things. sometimes I question whether or not that's part of the problem. but ultimately, I doubt it. fuck it.
you know what I've gotten three of my friends for their birthdays, in the past two weeks? Bullshit stoppers. Bigass sharp knives, bullshit-stopping blades. One of my dearest wishes for myself and everyone I dig and really for the world at large is an end to the bullshit. One of my friends wrote something in a high school yearbook that I still count among the greatest wishes/blessings/hopes that anyone has ever shared with me or bestowed upon me: it amounted to a paucity of bullshit, that there would be none of it brought to me. right? that's some of the best we can hope for.
dream 2 -- saw an old friend, now a violent, loony drunk, at a table, and he took my hand and thanked me for my support, patience, love, whatever else. I woke up thinking, fuck, man. I hope he isn't dead. I hope that wasn't a goodbye. I hope that wasn't his understanding coming as a last hurrah. but knowing that the first dream was a true warning hasn't exactly made me feel better about the point or the message behind the second one.
I have a sense of having forgotten something. it's driving me a little crazy. I have that feeling like right before the phone rings, right before the fish strikes, right after the fourth count but before the first note. what's coming? I've already had enough.