London Thoughts--don't listen to me, you're the curious 3 year old and I'm the bleach under the kitchen sink.
Too many of these long nights and murky early mornings. How far will I go? How long will I last? I wonder if old age is necessary; if a young death is transcendent. I wish not to be a martyr either. Old age could be fun and wild in its exploration. To be the old and grey and lonely and wise man everyone is curious about and calls 'strange' with a smile on their faces. To be old and tired and weary and sharp from a lifetime of living this and many other human experiences. I am not yet refined enough to journey the realm beyond without repeating myself over and over. I am humbled, even now, sipping on a pint of beer in this aged pub in the middle of London.
Just last week I was drifting in the streets of Paris, among the ghosts of great writers who sought the same path. Sleeping in a crypt wouldn't be the answer now. Not now. There has to be that cool and funny and mystical medium. The place where so few of us wish to walk: the thin and blurred line between here and the liquid realm. A fantastic intersection of atavistic energy.
So, do I expect an early death? No. A long life? Not really. It all doesn't matter much now. It's the journey that should seduce us. I wouldn't allow myself to perish in the near future anyhow. I haven't accomplished what I have set out to. What I have come back to his meager planet to accomplish. The world needs more unique and insane and blended minds. Especially now. This mind is the writer. novelist. poet. whatever else I can get my grimey hands on. I want people to seek me out. To look at me with a sort of strange awe and to seek the path to their answers within me.
LEAVE YOUR COMFORTS AT THE TWISTED DOOR. HERE I WILL SHOW YOU THE GARDENS OF ARTFORM AND WE'LL SAVAGELY FUCK ON THE WARM GLASS OVER LOOKING REALITY. OUR WORDS WILL SET FIRE TO IT ALL. DANCE NAKED IN THE RAINFALL OF MY PASSION AND YOU WILL FINALLY CRY YOURSELF INTO SOMEONE NEW AND DESIRED. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN SO OUT OF YOUR MIND YOU COULDN'T HOLD A PRIMITIVE CONVERSATION WITH GOOD COMPANY ADMIST HUNDREDS OF LOUD STRANGERS? INTERACT WITH THE 30 PEOPLE MINGLING AROUND INSIDE OF YOUR HEAD YOU HADN'T ACKNOWLEDGED YOUR ENTIRE LIFE? MUCH LESS COMPLETELY FORGET YOU EVEN HAD A BODY, THAT SEEMS TO BE TREMBLING AND SWEATING ALL OVER ITSELF? YOU WOULD KNOW IF YOU DID. THAT'S WHAT I WOULD CALL INSANITY. OR MAYBE JUST A GOOD BATCH OF SHROOMS. MAYBE THAT'S THE KEY: TO CONSTANTLY TEST THE BOUNDS OF REALITY. HOW ELSE WOULD YOU KNOW YOU WERE ALIVE? NEVER SETTLE FOR ANYTHING LESS. FOR THAT'S WHEN A PERSON GROWS NUMB, AND NUMB IS DANGEROUS. AND NOT THE GOOD DANGEROUS WHERE YOU'VE BEEN UP ALL NIGHT WITH A HALF DOZEN STRIPPERS, CHEAP ALCOHOL IN YOUR STOMACH, TONGUES CARESSING YOUR BODY, AND PILLS DOING THEIR DANCE IN YOUR HEAD TO WAKE UP UNDER THE SUN ON A ROOFTOP OF SOME STRANGE AND STICKY BUILDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE VALLEY. I'M TALKING ABOUT THE KIND OF DANGEROUS MAKING PEOPLE THINK IT'S OKAY TO VOTE FOR TEXAS CHRISTIANS OR TO SELL CORPORATE PRODUCTS ON T.V. WHEN THEY SHOULD BE WORKING ON THEIR NEXT ALBUM. REMEMBER, DRUNKS AND ADDICTS CAN BE FUN, BUT NOBODY LIKES A JUNKY. EVEN MONEY IS A NARCOTIC.
Too many of these long nights and murky early mornings. How far will I go? How long will I last? I wonder if old age is necessary; if a young death is transcendent. I wish not to be a martyr either. Old age could be fun and wild in its exploration. To be the old and grey and lonely and wise man everyone is curious about and calls 'strange' with a smile on their faces. To be old and tired and weary and sharp from a lifetime of living this and many other human experiences. I am not yet refined enough to journey the realm beyond without repeating myself over and over. I am humbled, even now, sipping on a pint of beer in this aged pub in the middle of London.
Just last week I was drifting in the streets of Paris, among the ghosts of great writers who sought the same path. Sleeping in a crypt wouldn't be the answer now. Not now. There has to be that cool and funny and mystical medium. The place where so few of us wish to walk: the thin and blurred line between here and the liquid realm. A fantastic intersection of atavistic energy.
So, do I expect an early death? No. A long life? Not really. It all doesn't matter much now. It's the journey that should seduce us. I wouldn't allow myself to perish in the near future anyhow. I haven't accomplished what I have set out to. What I have come back to his meager planet to accomplish. The world needs more unique and insane and blended minds. Especially now. This mind is the writer. novelist. poet. whatever else I can get my grimey hands on. I want people to seek me out. To look at me with a sort of strange awe and to seek the path to their answers within me.
LEAVE YOUR COMFORTS AT THE TWISTED DOOR. HERE I WILL SHOW YOU THE GARDENS OF ARTFORM AND WE'LL SAVAGELY FUCK ON THE WARM GLASS OVER LOOKING REALITY. OUR WORDS WILL SET FIRE TO IT ALL. DANCE NAKED IN THE RAINFALL OF MY PASSION AND YOU WILL FINALLY CRY YOURSELF INTO SOMEONE NEW AND DESIRED. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN SO OUT OF YOUR MIND YOU COULDN'T HOLD A PRIMITIVE CONVERSATION WITH GOOD COMPANY ADMIST HUNDREDS OF LOUD STRANGERS? INTERACT WITH THE 30 PEOPLE MINGLING AROUND INSIDE OF YOUR HEAD YOU HADN'T ACKNOWLEDGED YOUR ENTIRE LIFE? MUCH LESS COMPLETELY FORGET YOU EVEN HAD A BODY, THAT SEEMS TO BE TREMBLING AND SWEATING ALL OVER ITSELF? YOU WOULD KNOW IF YOU DID. THAT'S WHAT I WOULD CALL INSANITY. OR MAYBE JUST A GOOD BATCH OF SHROOMS. MAYBE THAT'S THE KEY: TO CONSTANTLY TEST THE BOUNDS OF REALITY. HOW ELSE WOULD YOU KNOW YOU WERE ALIVE? NEVER SETTLE FOR ANYTHING LESS. FOR THAT'S WHEN A PERSON GROWS NUMB, AND NUMB IS DANGEROUS. AND NOT THE GOOD DANGEROUS WHERE YOU'VE BEEN UP ALL NIGHT WITH A HALF DOZEN STRIPPERS, CHEAP ALCOHOL IN YOUR STOMACH, TONGUES CARESSING YOUR BODY, AND PILLS DOING THEIR DANCE IN YOUR HEAD TO WAKE UP UNDER THE SUN ON A ROOFTOP OF SOME STRANGE AND STICKY BUILDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE VALLEY. I'M TALKING ABOUT THE KIND OF DANGEROUS MAKING PEOPLE THINK IT'S OKAY TO VOTE FOR TEXAS CHRISTIANS OR TO SELL CORPORATE PRODUCTS ON T.V. WHEN THEY SHOULD BE WORKING ON THEIR NEXT ALBUM. REMEMBER, DRUNKS AND ADDICTS CAN BE FUN, BUT NOBODY LIKES A JUNKY. EVEN MONEY IS A NARCOTIC.