Curious Things Thoughts
A lot of times I get bogged down in living, or being what we all want to be. Confused about what is chemical and what is actually 'you' proper, or as I have come to learn, 'you' collective. I heard once that every day when you wake up...that process it takes you to become coherent, is the time your brain and your body are becoming one again. That place in Sleepytown where all your thoughts and feelings and images unwind, and in the morning, spool back together again to become one conscious being...which is the 'you' collective.
Been having a lot of issues trying to find the 'me' collective because it's so many parts. Father. Husband. Magician. Artist. Maybe that's why I kicked this back on. It's where they can all play nice together in the park of the internet. When I'm not concerned about how people would view this, or what those people think of that. I can just be all of these things at once. I mean, really, no one wants to read about the magician who is frustrated with his day job, and it's constant suckage. Wouldn't be good for business. Or who would want to hear of the 'wannabe artist' who's kid is growing up and it's scary to him? I mean, I wouldn't. I'll be honest. I'd cast those folks off as crazy douches. Then again, I have an affinity for the crazy douche type.
Unpacking the 'me' collective has coincided with me cleaning the garage. Let me tell ya, my wife says it's a fucking mess, but, god love her, she let's me do what I want. But goddamn, I have outdone my own Hillbilly Hoarding tendencies, and Sweet Jesus, I've passed it on to my kid. Maybe she'll be better off for it. Quite possibly she will not, though. She's an excellent artist though. This makes me so happy. Happier than you can imagine. Maybe I did make something out of this life. Maybe, the Bastard out of Carolina became something or someone to somebody. Only time will tell. I'll just be a story at some point. A passing tale, hopefully not cautionary, about a guy who was pretty cool at one time.
I've really got to stop writing now. I think I could go on for hours, and the Fivetiles still beckons like the whorish siren she is. This Corporate world is dead for me. I feel as if I am a termite in a tree. A very big tree...but it's all dead wood for me. Not life in here. These people feel like they have lives, and god bless'em, I hope they do. It's not me anymore. I don't think, or, I don't feel that way now. Passing thoughts I'm sure. Nothing more.
I'll write in here more now. Life is too short to let it all just slip through my fingers. My wife asks me how I do all these things, and stay up late and go to work. I think that is the answer. I can't let it slip through my fingers anymore. My birthday is going to be an interesting one.
I should have taken a picture of the Office Max on Miami. They just had the 'OFF' up. It ruled. It's the little things that make me happy.
May the road rise to meet you.
And also with you.
(or something Catholicy)
KK
Been having a lot of issues trying to find the 'me' collective because it's so many parts. Father. Husband. Magician. Artist. Maybe that's why I kicked this back on. It's where they can all play nice together in the park of the internet. When I'm not concerned about how people would view this, or what those people think of that. I can just be all of these things at once. I mean, really, no one wants to read about the magician who is frustrated with his day job, and it's constant suckage. Wouldn't be good for business. Or who would want to hear of the 'wannabe artist' who's kid is growing up and it's scary to him? I mean, I wouldn't. I'll be honest. I'd cast those folks off as crazy douches. Then again, I have an affinity for the crazy douche type.
Unpacking the 'me' collective has coincided with me cleaning the garage. Let me tell ya, my wife says it's a fucking mess, but, god love her, she let's me do what I want. But goddamn, I have outdone my own Hillbilly Hoarding tendencies, and Sweet Jesus, I've passed it on to my kid. Maybe she'll be better off for it. Quite possibly she will not, though. She's an excellent artist though. This makes me so happy. Happier than you can imagine. Maybe I did make something out of this life. Maybe, the Bastard out of Carolina became something or someone to somebody. Only time will tell. I'll just be a story at some point. A passing tale, hopefully not cautionary, about a guy who was pretty cool at one time.
I've really got to stop writing now. I think I could go on for hours, and the Fivetiles still beckons like the whorish siren she is. This Corporate world is dead for me. I feel as if I am a termite in a tree. A very big tree...but it's all dead wood for me. Not life in here. These people feel like they have lives, and god bless'em, I hope they do. It's not me anymore. I don't think, or, I don't feel that way now. Passing thoughts I'm sure. Nothing more.
I'll write in here more now. Life is too short to let it all just slip through my fingers. My wife asks me how I do all these things, and stay up late and go to work. I think that is the answer. I can't let it slip through my fingers anymore. My birthday is going to be an interesting one.
I should have taken a picture of the Office Max on Miami. They just had the 'OFF' up. It ruled. It's the little things that make me happy.
May the road rise to meet you.
And also with you.
(or something Catholicy)
KK