No rough draft on this old friends. I'm just shooting from the hip and decided to jump right in this blog and start writing. Now I should be studying mind you. Scottypants is engaged in graduate school and all, studying religion (HAH!) at the GTU, but i'm not studying, nor have I been studying lately, at least not as much as I should be. I have barely been exercising either. I have been feeling like my feet are stuck in thick weighty jello, and I can't move. This has been going on for awhile now. I go and go, like moving across the country two months ago from New York City to Berkeley California, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, cutting across the country in my trusty car Blondie like a genius on fire, and sober to boot; and so long as I'm running, I seem to have enough energy, but as soon as I stop for a second, boom, the sludge returns.
So here I am in Berkeley, knee deep in sludge, hawk jawed and fooled. I really want to drink some wine to boost my spirits. That's what it does. Wine or herb to my trusty gullet or lungs and right to the brain and I'm right as rain. But it's a lonely mans game. See I'm trying to do it differently. I'm trying to make the decisions which will lead me down a more deep and meaningful road, like finding a good wife, and having kids and being a good dad, and maybe sharing some holy emptiness with a crowd outside of drunkenness, but my loneliness just wants me to take a sip, pack the pipe, and relax. That feels better. Maybe not in the long run, but don't they say to just live in the present? Well, my favorite way (maybe the only way I know how) to get into the present is to take a drink from the glass of timelessness, or a smoke from the Green Goddess home. Earth, a crisp fresh death, a return to the ground, a delicious sip from the grave. The liquid or smoky infinite, the illusion breaking potion of Now. Hard work and meditation in a glass. Comfort all alone.
For the moment all I have is this sobriety, (well I give myself caffeine and a touch of nicotine, but give me a break, they are very ineffective drugs. I guess that's why they don't get you drunk or stoned). So here I am. Empty. Empty. Empty. I am the emptiness, but this world doesn't seem to want to be saved. I'm already dead, should I just take a break in the meantime and inhale myself in time? The drug is the drug is the drug. Where is the love? I am the drug, drink of me, drink this mystery, stop me wasting time. Who is the fool? I can tell you all about nothing. It means everything, nah. Just tell me to shut up and give me a glass of wine. Another line. And we'll all wake up in Hell. Aloha.
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