Saturday, November 27, 2010
I've been drinking, here's the result.
Heynow. It's a bit of a late post but I'm all alone and I've been drinking. Listen to a Jimi Hendrix record. About six drinks or so but who's counting besides me. It's only 10:44PM. I feel like laying down on this hardwood floor and falling asleep while listening to this record. I think I might now. Drunk typing doesn't work. I'm editing my every word. I guest it'll be short because of the spelling mishaps. Today was lazy and so am I. No painting, nothing but a bit of cleaning and bills to be paid. The scars on my fingers says it all for today. Nothing but loneliness and sorrow. I guess I'm in another body today. Yet it is similar to my own. As I was laying down on the soft hardwood, my breathing was matched by the light on the ceiling. Making waves on my breathing patterns. After I noticed that, I started to laugh. The scars are still on my hands. I guess I'm not making any sense. That's it for tonight I guess. Maybe I'll lay down on the ground some more or I'll goto bed. Sometimes it's nice to find yourself out of your comfort zone. Hopefully when I look on this again, I'll make a song. Who knows, maybe I'll just make some more gibberish. Thanks spell check. My quivering fingers don't know the words that I want to express. I'm a mad scientist to that doesn't know any formulas. Just numbers that equal into musical notes that make noise. It's up to you if it makes a melody. It's up to you if it has meaning in your life. It's up to you if you like it and you want it to enter your mind again and again. The milky way express is lost and it might be found again the next night. Rollerskating into the next atmosphere. No one reads this so it'll be just you and me. That's the way it goes. The crackling of the record reminds me of the fire from the night before with twigs and bark. Talking to myself while screaming out loud. No one hears me. No one must really care. If they did, they would be with me laying on the hardwood floor laughing with all their insanity that was left in them. As I write this down, the sounds of guitar flow through my ears and out the window. Highway Chile must be my favorite, but it's the strangest. With my glasses on, they fall from my face and onto the ground. I take them off to no hurt them but to heel them. They are far from my shoes and they are close to my head. A highway hitchhiker may catch a ride but never finds a way home. The way he's going, he may never know or care. Sometimes I have that same feeling. I write short sentences to make things simple. I may never see this again and I might never even care. My ass hurts from this chair, it is as old as my elders that have passed along. I wish I could see them again, but maybe I'll see them again, if I'm good enough for this world. My head hits the back of the chair, then my eyes are in the back of my head, listening to this music with no care. Hopping that the record never ends. I'll have to change it soon. What will come next is my next decision. A new revolution or an old revolution that didn't work out. Another beer is what I'll have, thank you kind sir. I could walk through this place with my eyes closed. I have and it has worked. I've lost my mind yet another time. I don't know where I've left it. If I had it, I'd know where it was. Someone please save me, I don't care who it is, just help me through these times of hardness. Maybe I don't need you, it'll make me stronger, more in tune with myself. Make me more human than animal. Humans are animals but we learned fire and that is all we need to build and destroy. Continuing with the old gag, but renewing the life's through others. They don't know the difference but we know it's all the same. When I'm sad, no one comes to me. I said it's all right, everything. I started a revolution in my place. It's only me and I know the plan for this nation. Only make peace and not war. Only make wars with yourself so no one wins and no one loses. Waves of emotions like smiling and nodding. Still my guitar sits in it's rightful place. I sent a letter to a friend with hopeful wishes with no return address. Maybe he'll get the message of my loneliness and sorrow for myself. My knees are higher than my mind so I must be going on down that crooked road. When I look back the road is straight and narrow. Only to find that the road has been uphill and not a hard walk to walk. Shouting from that hill and no one to return the message. No one to hear my message of love and understanding. We only get blood and war. All I want is love and understanding. No more fighting for the wrongs, only the rights. The sea of joy is near and the sea of sorrow has gone to pass. Sailing away to the great beyond of wonderfulness. My fingers has seen the working dirt and now the cleanliness of resting. Is it just a fight between wrong and right? Lets just pray for the right to win the fight. Because we all know what is right and what is an illusion. My life is exciting, later for now.