4.08.2009

#8

"Hey what was that album? Red Hot Chilli Peppers write home unhappy?"
"It feels like we're on a road trip during war time!"

That night every ball I hit went flying. The striped green reminded me of a frog, and I'd never thought this before. The music was rubbing off so I didn't finish, but briefly, I thought it would be good to go through making up symbols. Like solid blue is the great lake, and me and you could call them this, and strangers would be interested. Solid yellow would be golden ticket, or bumble ball, or the sun.

This here's a combo, I'm going to hit the blood drop into the frog and the frog to the emptiness, and the emptiness into the grassy knoll. But I didn't finish this. All the songs that played were authenticating, for fifty cents I could keep up and it was worth it. If you used the eight ball to hit in your ball, it meant you weren't afraid of dying, and during the course of the game you'll notice I did this many times.

I was born one gender, but a pair of jeans could switch me like that. I could fall in love with girls like all of modern culture. If I got lazy at Hoolie's, he'd do some magic tricks for me. Diving after the cards, desparately, like this was in an asylum. Friends entertain for free, I never feel conflicted about having friends, friends is one good thing. Nature is so cool too, it doesn't bend itself or care. I look at the window and think Nature is my secret role model and I'm not going to tell anybody.

This was in the middle of a breakdown, but my breakdown kept taking breaks, so I had these wild fun times wherever I was, strangers included, weather permitting, a movie theater couldn't tell me what I could or could not bring inside. I would stroll in with a pizza, outside food, and when they adressed me, I'd say, "Hey, this here is your life, and this over here, is mine, let's just live and pay none." Or more like, "Yeah man, I know, let's not spill our moods you know? We are in the same exact room right now." Not that. None of that.

I'd be talking to everyone and think it was lucky our skin was so intact and keeping with us, that it was a privilege in a way, that even though some bad stuff had happened, it hadn't yet ruined us into little epitaphs we'd give after the person left. Maybe someone had a problem or two, but it enlivened our old city, a problem brought incident, the incidents brought order. Whenever I felt bad enough to live filthy, I told myself it was time to cut an album.

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