rexx

free time becomes more of a mystery once the daily novelty of the cheap thrills wear off, like binge drinking and recreational drug use. no high can ever be so marvelous as stone sober, flat broke, staring out to an endless sparkling ocean iced with tangerine sky and those moutains in the distance so beautiful behind a veil of mist it seems they cannot be real. all alone and thousands of miles from home, but what is home?

going to the bar is like living in a fish bowl. round and round and round you go, no matter how fast or slow or often nothing ever changes. you can never even be sure if its real. you touch nothing, only glass. only you, hidden from the world beyond. they can see you but they'll never know you. you'll rarely come to know much of anything, in there.

i remember sitting on doug's bed. smell of house pets and garlic and stale smoke. him and b. are playing risk. i'm distracted by my case of beers, a little high. i look at doug and think how his mind and soul are wondrous, but he is sad inside and getting old. i want to save him. i look at b., i want to vomit. i look at the fishtank and settle there. doug has beautiful fish. if the world were this fishtank, i thought, we are the algae eater. that hideous fucking beast. sucking and sucking on bare walls. blind, wanting nothing more. that algae eater is the three of us at the dive. night after night. no money, no conversation. b. was such a fucking drag.

(i remember one sunday we decided to stay sober, go to brunch, like normal people do. we were not talking. just chain smoking. you felt like shit sober and panicked like you always did. we leave. i hated you. you could barely hold the wheel. you stumbled into your house, tore open the freezer. shit fell out all over the floor. there was only vodka, you chugged it. and there was my excuse, again. not even five p.m. at the pacman machine with my whiskey and my pitcher, you and doug shooting pool. sucksucksuck. fucking fishtank.)

but, back to doug's bed, looking at the fish... i got pretty drunk that night, i'm petting the dog and i'm smoking cigarettes and i'm watching the fish and i love them a little bit and i want to be the transparent rainbow one who almost seems to glow. the algae hasn't tasted good for a long time. poisoned and fucked and sucking away at nothing. i always wanted to pick doug's brain more, maybe thats why i held on for so long. i experienced a bit of satori, or whatever the zen buddhists call it, and packed up my beers and we left and i wanted to go home. i always wanted to, but i never went home. i was like a little plant and at home there was no one to water me with beer, whiskey, false hopes. always scribbling little thoughts on my benny's tavern matchbooks on beds and in bars and all over the hopeless fishtank walls we scoured those months. i stopped clinging to nothings that night.

one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.
abandon redundancy.
abandon the disease.
abandon the fishbowl.

.....

well here in currently reality i found myself at the bar a few nights ago and i was just so bored and unimpressed with it all and i just started thinking back on all these nights and thoughts and happenings and how my mind always did wander in the bar or i'd skip away to text more interesting company in grafitti-ridden bathrooms and now its alright there at times but...only at times.

those cheap thrills man,

there's so much more for us out there.

once you get that taste it'll drive you buck wild for ever and always but baby the world is vast and ready and waiting and you just gotta keep searching and doing and loving and living and don't lose sight of whats real, the clarity in the breeze, not the false comforts in the wallet.

sometimes when i wake up early i feel as though i catch my spirit floating above me for a split second looking out the window at the rising sun. and then there i am in my bed, stretching and yawning and loving the way everything feels against my bare skin. then i smile at the sun and the snow and that day and yesterday and everyday that ever was and will be and all i've seen and all there is and i think i want to wake up and smile upon mountains and seas and skies the color of cherry stained lips and mangos and then i smile upon them anyway because they're out there, somewhere. and i smile upon sideways glances in smokey bars where eyes became lips, whispered secrets i'd been searching for. and i yawn and turn the bedside coffeepot on and wait for the scratch on my door and let moose in and he curls up on my bed and yawns and i listen to nothing but the hum of the space heater and little dog snores while i brush my teeth and bundle up and go on my way and i think goddamn, life is sweet. drinking coffee for miles while the wind bites my face and thinking whatever i'd like and smiling with strangers and wishing i was on a mountain somewhere, naked, drinking coffee in the bright sun outside with a little joint in hand and spending all day laughing and fucking and running around and just living, feeling everything at once. and i think maybe one day i'll do that. but this day is just as good in its own little way. and i'm happy. i'm really fucking happy.

but as the sun begins to linger in the sky a bit longer now that little itch in my soul is growing stronger and i'm thinking i might be leaving again. i was never really good at sticking around. like juice squeezed from a tangerine sky as it fades to black, drips to the sea, dances there until the morning comes.

does it makes sense to anyone else, like it makes sense in my head?


well baby, ta'ta for now.

<3 Rexxy