Any excuse to get out of the city, unless it means to travel into a deeper paradigm of the ever exclusive cool club.
That kind of scene dries out in less than five minutes for me. It's an energy that is so inexplicably un-stimulating that I can't even get near it anymore. It's like a vacuum. A black hole of social stagnancy that leaves a sickness in its wake like lightning leaves the taste of metal in your mouth when it comes too close. You just want to spit and pucker your lemon face at the valueless mask of most of humanity these days in these tempered times.
My favorite comedian Bill tells us to go back into the garden. That we haven't had enough of its safety and goodness and that we need to go back, but at this point all of our grandfathers have never felt the sweet juice drip down their chins, never felt the sailing earth beneath their fingernails so how could our quilted society ever get back there?
I catch myself wondering why which I have decided is as fruitless as the thought of humans willingly unifying, WHY do some of us bleed so much while most just live the lives they are born into.
I have never known hunger nor have I stood in the path of a tornado but I am those things as much as I am sitting here on this wooden bench in a patio section of a bar/ restaurant. I am the buck who's antlers decorate the kitschy light fixture hanging on a wall inside the glass doors that separate me from the warm bar area where all the other patrons have gathered. There were no available seats inside. Not even at the bar. It's tempting to add this to some shitty list I keep for no good reason but I won't. Instead I look with different eyes like a guardian angel rather than a sad little girl with not a friend in the world.
Will I hear something fast and sellable tonight or rather something that leans them all towards the garden? It seems a worthy chase to trade my sage and sheepskin for a cold night out if I can feel some lilting memories drift into those calcified task master minds all drenching themselves in the static Saturday option. Why do we all need to drink so much to get loose enough to dance? Again I catch myself asking when I know "why" doesn't matter. What does matter is the way I feel when I walk through the dark night back to my car and look up at the night sky. I forgot how nourishing stars are. If I loved it here the night sky in November would be the reason, but then again why doesn't matter.
Comments