tired bashing skulls open

middle of the night quiet can’t sleep logging on lightly could resume the bashing game the pummeling of ideas i don’t like, bopping around the screen for the next threat to my model of wholeness then push back with keyboarded sounds in my head, until i learn this is no economy, no job, no salvation, nothing worth paying for—yet it’s earthly, a model of electricity, a convection oven, a volcano not unlike a bird squawking announcing it survived the night finding the others, cute but unprofitable but then unexpectedly it helps the others, carries a little branch, adds to the nest for the tribe’s newborn fowl ~ wouldn’t it be nice to be responsible for something that fit easily? Fitting I was told a decade ago by a now-putrid and spoiled and toxic lover is worth waiting for, “I fit” is worth waiting for she said. James Baldwin said the place in which I’ll fit will not exist until I make it; a Latin phrase goes “I shall find a way or make one” so it sounds like a bitter fighting with the world always for a place, a shape that looks like you, and after all the toil you see it was there the whole time and nothing more was needed, you were fine all along, it was always going to work out, but this doesn’t hurt enough and isn’t hard enough and man needs something to suffer for, passion means to suffer for, so i could always try my hand at trying to inflate my name and brand harder and try harder to make this word salad cohere and then push it hard into the tradewinds and make this ship float, sail, fly, cruise at many nauts per hour quickly becoming regarded by the right pilots and captains in the game, yes, put the tastemakers in a spreadsheet and check the boxes be aggressive (cheerleaders be-be aggressive) about getting loved and seen and adopted; i could dress well and keep pushing and spy and plan and connive and design and keep showing up, but the aggressively managed career must end at night in alcohol drugs and suicide so i could not keep believing hour by hour day by day weekend passed by weekend passed unremarkable quarter after quarter until i’m old, gray, beaten down, tired, a lie—a lie like my peers, late thirties and beyond, hard to stay young, hard to drink the cold water and stay thrilled and horny and aggressive yet also patient and kind; this is mostly correct but in the wrong order and ugly and could be edited but maybe better would be if it were drawn to; oh, why is the soul shaped like a work order and a plan, a strategy, a go-get-’em strategy, a go-to-market windmill wanderlust; why is everything work…will work lead to liberation and transcendence? What is togetherness in a world where everybody’s trying to win their computer game, mash buttons faster, put in the secret code so they get the money to buy the house and keep it safe by voting conservative by 35 (because “if you aren’t a liberal at 25, you don’t have a heart; if you aren’t a conservative at 35 you don’t have a brain” is valid, because taxes and death, and work harder! Be smarter! The internet is there and so are your neurons, work harder, don’t wait! Learn! Transcend your family, your lazy stupid parents lol time to hop off the me train if this doesn’t relate, maybe i’m only for the transcenders and remixers and revolters and cavaliers who insist on reinventing love and family and economy and rules and government, the strivers who refuse to live in the present or reality as it is constructed and agreed upon (these are just words, hot words, another post thrown down into the canyons and underbellies of words unread, no dent in the pan, no ping or pang, pitter patter reckless ladder, just practice; see i don’t commit to anything, don’t stake my heart to any one thing; my computer communication day will not become pushing one ship hard into the choppy current, though it’s been published that “purity of heart is to will one thing” (David Shields, Reality Hunger) see I’m not the unhinged mystic homeless crazy person my voice makes it seem; I run away from my smile and overducation and professional past and good family, something in me wants to break the chain and start a new one; most people have side hustles, creative outlets, maybe this is mine, yet i’ve cultivated this monster side hustle consciousness that now i can’t stop believing is going to save me professionally financially and it hasn’t and it won’t and yet i can’t quit; but all this writing hard down into the depths and grooves reminds me what can be done with the day, with an hour, with this next hour, this day we’re on together in linear time on the sinking ship America COVID rolling blackout California wildfire

(GPL 9/8/22)

Identity is nice, fun, a side quest

--

--

filling the blinking cursor with whatever comes up, letting the leviathan lead me to glory, singing popular music covers on video on Smule too, speaker, rambler

Love podcasts or audiobooks? Learn on the go with our new app.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Geoffrey Lewis

filling the blinking cursor with whatever comes up, letting the leviathan lead me to glory, singing popular music covers on video on Smule too, speaker, rambler