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Bring on the Passions...AHHHhhhhHHH!!! before/after As much as I belittle life, it is so beautiful. I struggle, in the throes of agony and extascy.� I know its meaningless, but sometimes I don't care. I feel better by the hour.� Powerful medicine at work.� It may be awhile before I am whole again, or at least as whole as I will be after this ordeal.� Weeks, maybe a month or so. This crash was a long time coming.� And what a crash it was.� Life threatening, life altering. Perhaps.� This is the third time in my life.� The past two made me devalue all.� What point is there, when life can go willy-nilly and body run riot with no warning. (Well, sort of...I am a shit head, and it is on a certain level my fault.� No No!� Wait!� It wasn't me!� It was the skin-suit!� I swear!� But, yes, if I lived with less verve, and stepped timidly like a mild pussy-cat, I would never have a goddam problem. I just don't know how to tippy-toe through life.� I never received tippy-toe lessons.� The tippy-toe bus left, and I wasn't. on. the. bus.� I just don't get it.� What are the mild people afraid of?� Death?� WE ALL DIE. So fuck it.� Grab some pie and shove it in the hole that most delights you. Throw on an eye patch and make pirate noises at the one you love. "Arrr!� I be searching for the lost booty!!!!� Arrrr!!!!� Prepare to walk the plank!� Arrrr!!!!� You be going down, me hearty!!!!� Arrrr!!!" No tippy-toeing skills.� Definite lack of tippy-toeing potiential. Yes, my idea of fun is to load up on drugs and do whatever crosses my fancy.� I have gone drunk to prayer meetings.� I smoke pot on chapel steps.� I fuck wherever I can, however I can with girls that make me happy.�� Wanna watch?� I don't give a fuck.� Just don't tell anybody.� Modesty, you know. While I'm on the topic, why are some girls all about the public sex?� What is that?� Yeeaaa-hhhh, I don't care, but...uhh, baby?� What's going on?� Why do I have to fuck you in the bushes?� I dig you and everything, but I can, like, wait, or something, until we get home. Okayyyyy.� I used to think that life was dull and unchallenging without drugs.� But I have done so much.� It has lost its luster.� I definitely don't need to do any to feel loose and weird anymore.� Perhaps I have done enough.� Maybe I should become a monk.� Maybe the final challenge is entirely spiritual. Maybe I should try to find God inbetween woman's thighs.� I swear He's there.� Swear. it. Okay, maybe not.� But its worth a shot. Yes, I am feeling a bit better.) But I find myself strangely hopeful now.� There is no meaning, but there is powerful curiosity. Sunsets are so sweet. Meaningless, yes. But seductively sweet.� I feel the urge to grab life's fruits (froo-its) from the trees, suck the nectar out. I can't wait to seduce a girl.� Get in a fight.� Play in front of a crowd. Write a new album.� Take more pictures.� Create a poem. I also want to make money.� Lots of it.� Not to live extravagently.� But for safety's sake.� Plan is forming.� I can get some proper education for free. Not the path I wanted, or intended.� But I will be able to amply provide. I think...things will be okay. I hope. I hope.� I hope. If not, well...fuck it.� Its been a nice ride, anyway. It was a life. But I think things will...be...okay. Bring on the passions. �
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