Happy Halloween, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and every other holiday I missed. Alright, that’s done.
I have been gone for a while, basically, because my motivation to write anything has vanished. Not sure of the cause, just been really frustrating trying to find the energy to get my mind in the right state. It’s been Hell. I perhaps don’t have shit to say so I am going to try and squeeze some juice out of this.
Lots have happened in this little world, but nothing I could say would be interesting enough to captivate the mind. Everything has already been said.
The lack of motivation is perhaps based on my shitty uneventful job, followed by my reclusive existence. Calming, but it’s all kinds of fucked. Eating a spicy chicken sandwich while listening to my records is a sign of a wild fucking night. (It’s my 30s) I read books, play lots of Tetris, watch sports (Da Bulls) and watch whatever random bullshit happens on these streaming sites.
Oh, I also drink beer again. (It’s so good) I am on these meds that pretty much cured my gout. I still haven’t gone crazy with it. I still drink my cherry juice, but I’m more relaxed, and my knee finally feels stronger. The real challenge will be venison and seafood.
Of course, I could just spit venom again like I have done in the past. (Rants) in my sober state of mind, I can’t really be as cryptic as I would like to be. (If the world only knew) If I could simply express these weird emotions, I would just put a block rose on those memories, maybe etch it into my skin and burn a rag doll. (Forsaken Me)
If the Devil hates a loser, then that’s why my life has been so quiet. Or perhaps the Devil’s sobbing because the angel on my shoulder hanged himself years ago, and now his purpose has just turned to dust right before his cold storm water eyes. Of course, this is not my end but only my beginning. My golden years haven’t hit me because I take my sweet time. However, if you let the sweet fruit hang for too long, it will fall to the ground, and the worms will have a feast.
Fuck the golden years. I want my platinum years. I know many people who have already hit their golden years, and what’s left is a has-been experience locked behind a white picket fence. (Ordinary Fucking People) Perhaps as they lay in bed on those nights, they realized they could never tell the difference between gold and fool’s gold. The truth will come that their fruit tree no longer produces the sweet joys.
I will say hello to my motivation again and enjoy 2023 with the gifts that shall come. I’m back, and it feels so good!
In The Spider's Web 