Light of ignition, despite the opposition
Big it may be, but I'll fight back
Turn the page and get passed
This chapter, set the stage for hereafter
Fuck the failure and engage day-by-day
Without the tail between my legs
'Cause life is worth more than being
Enraged
Finance is a state of mind—life is about working with what's left. I haven't been uprooted or destroyed, sure I've been raped or robbed, but I'm still standing with enough assets for a cushy two-month adventure and something of a remaining stash upon my return. Not everyone can say that after they've been bled for $6,000.
ANYWAYS.
I've finished the first story of the new year, a nasty little tale called "No Rest For A Filthy Heart" which features by far the most unlikable and vicious lead character I've yet committed to paper and is also the first in an intended trilogy of similarly themed stories that will be called "After the Wedding". I will be starting work on the second installment over the next few days.
In the mean time: I'm ready to leave, and am actually nervous that the two months I'm gone are going to pass too quickly. Absurd, I know. Daily life, work, this house, this country, the environment within which I am living has become grossly stale. I'm gagging on it. My own comfort zone has become a plush coffin, cramped and murderous.
I was obsessed with the concept of conformity at an early age, fighting against it, yet, having grown older, I find myself submerged, waist deep, in complacency—rural singularity is great, but the fingers of society afflict my inner being through struggle. What guidelines do we follow? Do we do so willingly, or are we slaves to these subliminal rules of normalcy?
Damn.
I could bore you to death with page after page of this pseudo-intellectual, non-conformist ranting and raving, BUT...
I'll spare you.
ANYWAYS.
I've finished the first story of the new year, a nasty little tale called "No Rest For A Filthy Heart" which features by far the most unlikable and vicious lead character I've yet committed to paper and is also the first in an intended trilogy of similarly themed stories that will be called "After the Wedding". I will be starting work on the second installment over the next few days.
In the mean time: I'm ready to leave, and am actually nervous that the two months I'm gone are going to pass too quickly. Absurd, I know. Daily life, work, this house, this country, the environment within which I am living has become grossly stale. I'm gagging on it. My own comfort zone has become a plush coffin, cramped and murderous.
I was obsessed with the concept of conformity at an early age, fighting against it, yet, having grown older, I find myself submerged, waist deep, in complacency—rural singularity is great, but the fingers of society afflict my inner being through struggle. What guidelines do we follow? Do we do so willingly, or are we slaves to these subliminal rules of normalcy?
Damn.
I could bore you to death with page after page of this pseudo-intellectual, non-conformist ranting and raving, BUT...
I'll spare you.
1 comments:
Amen brother!! Soon you'll be LIVING LIFE
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