Thursday, February 12, 2015

Tired Out

I'm tired out. Pave the way.
Too low on gas to save the day.
Slaves and outlaws. Kings and Pharaohs.
No tomorrow. Slings and arrows.
I'm tired out.
-Buck 65

I'm already reaching a breaking point with this blog bullshit. I want to be honest and real, and well crafted in my words...and I get a reminder on my phone, but every day, I find myself fantasizing about sloughing off the duty. Or shirking it. Or letting a loud 'argh' into the world. And seriously, that is sad. It's not much of a responsibility - it's a few minutes of pounding some words into cyberspace.

But I think it reflects the fact that I don't really know what I'm doing sometimes in this knockdown drag-out life. I feel like most people my age are somewhat established in some sort of career path, and they have some sort of force leading them onward. I feel somewhat unguided - like the stoney trail in front of me is only being illuminated rock by rock - and I'm not sure what else to do.

I just keep going.

I roll along, and I adapt, and I move from spot to spot, and I'm okay with that flow motion, but maybe this shit-blog is starting to show me that I don't really know what I want - in terms of a job or a pursuit or a career type deal. And maybe I need to give that some serious thought and iron-furnace forging.

I mean, of course I'd love to be a writer, but all writers who end up doing it for a career end up becoming assholes or in the looney bin. It's such a self-plumbing practice that can't help but drum up things from the deep that you didn't want to discover in the process. Real writing needs to be about solitude, and not buzz words. Marketing and business can go fuck themselves. The words need to come from a place that is not rooted in anything connected to the plastic monetary faux-paradise.

Everything is edited. Trimmed. Everyone in this self-conscious world is afraid to say what they really feel, because we've been conditioned to accept the awkwardness.

We've been told lies about who we are - probably on a grade school playground, eons ago - and we deeply believe those falsehoods.

I'm tired of trying to find out exactly where I belong. I want to be in the mix. I want to be known and felt and held and accepted and adored. Don't we all want that?

I want to write a kids science fiction space book that's mulled around in my head for over a decade. I want to work for Saturday Night Live as a writer. I want to run a record label and make albums with my friends. I want to tour on a bus for half a year and shoot videos for bands, and maybe even play my own music once in a while.

I have songs and words and sounds, and I need them to get out. But I'm tired.

Sleep will help.

"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you're uncool." (Lester Bangs)

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