It's my birthday and this is what I think
Quit While You're Behind, Drop The Pen, Step Away From The Vehicle, And Hit The Hash Pipe While You're Still Young
When the world seems altered, it's the job of the writer to record any sensation they are aware of while it lasts. To draw on the resources available to them in some hyped-up attempt to recreate what will never exist anywhere except in the soul of those of us lucky enough to have gone mad...
...So, it's April 30, 2006. I'm a year older - "shorter of breath, and one day closer to death," I suppose, but feeling as though the entire spectrum of existence is in fact being sustained through a feeding tube of possessed energy. All is urgent, and when we hang up the phone, that's the end. Maybe there'll be something left outside, maybe not, but it's hard to tell and doesn't really matter anyway. That is not the point of this moment.
What is, eh? What is the meaning of all of this? What is it that drives me to these insane memories and sporadic whims of impulse that I can't help but act on and anyway don't want to resist. What gives?
It is, of course, the story. The Story. Feeling every nuance of this whole derranged experiment is the most exciting trip I've been on, because it is after all my own. And there isn't much else to do. The explosion is the real point, and all the demolition is merely the aftermath. The brilliance is what's important, and the connotations of that be damned. It is beauty at its height because its purpose is only to be, not to stand for anything.
Much like myself on this closing April night. I am not symbolic of anything, and I have tried to affiliate myself with as few Official Associations as possible. It is wise, as my brother once pointed out to me, to keep one's name off of as many lists as possible. I am quite simply, as always, along for the ride. Cheers.