Monday, June 1, 2009

Fix the typewriter you fix the man

12 years ago I might not have been as comfortable in my own skin as I am now, but at lest I had a plan. Sure that plan was like all my others, frealed up from the start, but damn it I had a plan!
Now, I am comfortable enough in my own skin, but I have no plan.
I used to know who I was and what I wanted out of this life. Now, I am not sure any more. When did that happen?
Maybe when I was waiting for the crullers to be done, maybe when I was hanging around Dargo modeling, or maybe when I gave myself over to the universe. Thou I am still holding me back. Maybe that's the trouble?
I can't fully give myself over to the will of the universe, I still need some control over me. I'm like a bad trip that never fully ends. A flashback you never recover from. Not only am I my own worst enemy it would seem, I am my own worst drug.
Intolerable vibes. Mad waves of paranoia.
If only life were that easy. If only we could just chuck it all down for a mad weekend Gonzo style. And forget about everything else. I would if I could.
But where would that get me? Where would I go? Down a mad road driving stopping at the intersection of Insane and Desperate ? Or should I fly off to Innterzone?
Innterzone takes care of it's own.
Seems I am already lost in the ether playing in the mud. Quick somebody order me some golf shoes it's impossible to walk in this muck.
This is what I know for sure, I am nobody's anything. Maybe I was part of the Doom Generation and that's all there is. Maybe I am missing the H on my typewriter keys.

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