Tag Archives: bullshit

you can’t be angry at him, and not believe in him

I don’t read blogs often. I’m always afraid the way they arrange their words, their prose would desensitize my own. The ones I’ve read tell me things I don’t care to pay attention to anyway, really. I know that sounds mean, but I just don’t have an opinion about their day. I certainly don’t write into my blog the way I do because I think it’ll attract readers, it’s a place to let my thoughts go. So I’ve got the same view when looking at others. But I found one last night (while searching for something completely different), one that chronicled all the things I don’t normally care about. I read years into this person’s posts and I fell in love.

She sounded like the part of me that died long ago. (That’s bad writing, right? ha!) But she made me feel that all the unfortunate things that had happened to her, was undeserved. A person so sweet hit with all the bitters, yet she held, and I mean grasped on for dear life, this bright and positive outlook. I had no choice but to fall in love, and I fell deeper with every posting I read. I didn’t hold on for dear life like she did.

In a secular sense, she chose faith while I chose fear. She passed and I didn’t. You know why they have ribbons for colon cancer and liver cancer and other cancers except lung cancer? It’s because people believe they deserve it, that they did this to themselves. It’s not the cancer that kills a lung cancer patient, it’s the guilt that kills them. Guilt told me to let go and fall into the dark. (Yes I’ve become a better writer because of it, but it is expensive. That whole sadness and despair thing as inspiration is bullshit, don’t believe it. The art was already there, your ability to live tells you how you’ll translate it.)

I fell in love with her through her blog because it showed me how beautiful I could have been, had I have just held on a tiny bit longer. When you’re dead, you can only be loved, but you can’t return it. Maybe her words are the fingers reaching down to pull me up, and she’ll never know how happy her little fingers made me.

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Filed under non-fiction rambling, stories

Another Sunny’d Day

I had an interview scheduled for 11:30 today.
I was waltz-in for the job.
I helped feed skid row last night the night before
came home
went to bed
so I’d be tip-top for the life changing event
set 4 alarms of 4 of the most
to go off 2 hours ahead of the appointment
rested in peace
The glorious Tuesday morning sun bursts
through my window
with warm embrace
greet the day
my day
And embraced
my alarm ready smartphone
so tight,
so warm,
so hot
the battery drained
on my alarm ready smartphone
the annoying songs
did not play, even
an hour and a half after my appointment
it was not so a smart phone
the sunshine danced like a child
it screamed 4 annoying songs
and looped
Where are his parents, I wondered
I took a morning shit,
Then I went to the bathroom
and took a mourning shit

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Filed under poetry

beer or beef


Money or taking it easy, that’s what we have dictating our lives in place of a bible, the all-time best seller. I’ve heard that line [taking it easy] so many times, only to find swine chime it mentally and never knew what it meant, like the bluff at the poker table. Just fold cause you’ve lost.  The coarse and the fine are friends who never pick up the tab in your one act life, and they never forget their lines. The “take it easy” proverb is as empty as the pitcher.

Money comes with the constitution of your work, in most cases, and depend on it. Perseverance in this fish-eat-fish world (never seen a dog eat another dog) through labor and, since extreme measures of population control have not been [officially] devised, most of us with warm blood in our veins, will hitherto, labor amongst shit jobs. Those who aren’t subjected to that kind of life experience don’t understand the majesty of eat in a 1$ carne asada taco after 3 days of rationed saltines, or worse, tell you they do with the utmost conviction in their eye. As far as I’m concerned, the shit-job title only regards some kind of septic disposal. But that’s me being idealistic.

I’ve cleaned the vomit off the floor around the toilet seat at work after last call and winning a sympathy pint, I’ve fed the homeless while filling my ‘s homeless people served quota, published on both sides of the Atlantic, and as a high schooler slept with the most beautiful sophomore I’d ever seen, very tender and statutory. If this job sustains your life our keeps you going, this by default, is a part of you, from capitalized letter to the period. “Take it easy? Google and CNN says you’re a fucken’ liar.”

Take it easy is easy enough to taunt to the working class, but I’m two weeks late on my car payment for a car that I need to get a new battery for, my physiology mid-term that’ll decide if I can transfer into that university I don’t want to go to is in a few hours, the future of Afghanistan, and gas went up 3 cents! I’ll tell you what I’ll take; a refill on my prescription that’ll cost me a car battery.

Yeah, I’m just spitting out words, I’m really just too much of a spineless coward to, well, have any convictions pertaining to anything of substance. I mean, I like my steak rare, neither my beer nor cigarettes to be light, and the gallop of a horse. But I’ll never vote left or right, nor try to convince you. But you think my vote will cost your liberties. My vote will take your easy from you. It won’t, humanity will never take it easy as long as there’s someone standing to your left or your right. Rid one, and another always comes, standing where you once were.

I’ll take it easy by lying down, even if I’m the only one, but even I know I’ll have to get up to take a shit if I wanna go back to lying down. You’ll join me sooner our later, so why bust my balls now and look stupid later?

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Filed under fiction metaphor, rhetoric