Sired From The Latest Night In A Long Time

I drove late tonight on the midnight streets of this sad, sad world. Then the world got a little smaller, and my view began to change, and my world became the little one in front of me in the form of my hometown, my place of most-sadness, most-nothingness, and so on and so forth. I lose myself on a street corner, I find myself in old notes in a box in my closet. I lose and find myself much, and I have been lost, but here now I found myself again. This is me. Not away. Unbridled, insufferable, incorrigible, indestructible, in that somber state that sovereigned my sufferings for so many years. It's fine, really it is. I am at best in this state. I think it is the wearing down of my body from the automatonic natures, beating it back to my dismissal if ever I should please it to. Now I am purified. In this boggy, saturated atmosphere that it is outside I feel pure as a mountain-fed spring flowing from those mountains in my heart and out through my fingers as they do so with their ripples in these instances.

Perhaps the me that finds itself before these words seems odd. Perhaps the me would say how I don't care if you may think I am odd. It is not my place to be putting myself in your minds in such an awkward way. I like that I am alone in these measurements of myself. But lonliness is a cold friend to beseige me on this day and leave me meddling in my own silly tidings, almost always amounting to nothing but distractions and contradictions, so much like the human struggle, struggling to fight its way out of that imprisonment the world puts on it, just to be close to what it knows is best for it, some peace of mind.

I am not an intimate man. I find myself, even to my surprise at times, to be locked away from the world for one reason or another having to do with trust and compassion for the expression not contrived, but real. The problem I must continually face is that there are some around me that ought not bear such a tedious burden just to be close to me like I know I would have them be if I weren't always in my way. So whats a growing lad to do to alleviate these pressing gestures of ill-spirited salubriousness? Forego the boughs and give way to the currents I suppose, letting it ride itself out until the damage can be assessed until my mind feels apt to reconstruct the damages of my heart in the form of humanistic alms.

Everywhere the poor soul suffers for freeing from the mind that always needs some sort of explanation for the beauties and terrifying movements of this life. However so much worthier it would be to be that man, born sometime in the early nineteenth century, and who lived to see, or almost see the twentieth come about. The change, the constant, pulsing, manipulative changes the world has endured since the beginnings of those days are some of the most tumultuous, wonderful, terrifying, blessing and unforgiving changes in the history of history itself. But history dilutes our focus of the core energies of what is right. Everywhere in history there seems to be admired all these old men who conquered one thing or another, who shed blood in the name of god or country or freedom or exploration. What atrocities find themselves fueled for ages to come when our chief role models of the ages are war wagers and criminals and murderers and thieves. This, of course, is the point at which you may sever my argument with simple rhetoric, siting the specifics of importance that these "great men" and their actions have accomplished for the worlds own furthering benefit. Save your breath; I do not care what you have to offer me. Form your own thoughts about something. Unoriginality is a treacherous quality to encompass.

So, even though I have digressed a thousand times in as many lines with this entry, I will further fire at you my abstract nonsense, since that is what I naturally am, abstract and odd. Its not for me to say whether or not its right or needs to make any sense. You'll take what you want, learn what you want, and hate what you want from these words I have written for your viewing pleasure.

-C