Where have I gone? Where is the person who I believed myself to be, because surely he is missing. Maybe if I dive deeper into this bottle I can locate myself, amongst the vicodin and white dust that settles at the bottom, maybe just maybe I will be able to grab my own hand and pull myself out like a white rabbit, hold myself up to the crowd and we can all laugh and go home and be on with our business. But thats not how it works right? Everytime I reach into the bottle it reaches into me, pulling me farther away from myself, everytime the blunt touches my lips, everytime the powder goes in my nose, everytime the cigarette touches my lips, I slip farther away, without a sound, on mute, screaming. The tableau is this: water, green water, and a hand reaching through it, surrounded in bubbles and a face mouthing words that Poseidon claims for his own. The hand claws from something to create friction but all it gets is water flowing around it pushing it farther and farther down. Deeper and deeper until all you see is water. Look at me now, a feeble writing trying to resurrect some spark that once was. A washed up bloke who thought he knew how to express himself, feverishly trying to scribble meaning onto a machine that knows no emotion or what a thought is. Seeking meaning in meaningless words, words that only others give meaning. Somewhere in this jumble of words he believes he can reclaim himself and pull the phoenix out of the ashes and rise again to what he thought he once was, someone with purpose. Someone who knew where he was going and how to do it, with what tools and when. But what are these simple mechanics? Some way to reassure the mind and coax it into submission, a plan to follow even though the plan is a croc of shit. Wheres the excitement in mapping out your entire life and following it until the end like some kind of the prophecy, the prophecy will never be fulfilled because there is no prophecy, there is no purpose. No person has a path to follow, there are infinite paths with infinite paths on the paths, like a river with a million tributaries that flow into itself and other rivers and at the end you have no idea where you are, but it doesn’t matter, thats the point, the ride is the point. The outcome is merely a reference point to get you on the path. Something the mind can understand and seemingly gravitate towards.
A rich man has a rich son, and he gets whatever he wants, he doesn’t have to work for it, he doesn’t have to walk the path for it. He thinks it and it is his to behold and covet. People resent him for it and say he didn’t work for it, he doesn’t deserve to have it when people work so hard for such things. Why do they say this? because its not the outcome its the journey. If it was just the end result that mattered why would they harbor feelings of ill will? Why not be filled with joy for the man who could skip the path and attain what he desired so easy, wouldn’t it be regarded as some what of a miracle? No, because the road is hard and has many twists and turns that will test you and test what you believe in, the will make you question what is real, what is right and what is wrong, you will often have to make a choice that will break you, a choice that will make the path start from the very moment, erasing the way back. Sometimes there are no ways back, the only way to move is foreward. If this is true, what can be said of the end? The end is merely an idea.
If your goal is to become the greatest musician the earth has ever seen, when does your journey end? When you win all the awards? when you play every venue in the world? when all the other musicians are dead and forgotten so you can technically be the best? No, it never ends there is no way to be the greatest musician in the world as theres no way to the best at anything, there is only the fight to be the best your mind will allow you to be. What is the difference between the best and worst, of anything? Ratings? Awards? Notoriety? Who has the authority to say this is the worst and this is the best? A man? Taught by other men, to evaluate men? Who has the reference point to declare the best, because I’m sure as I’ll ever be that no one has the authority for any of that. Good and bad, best and worst are merely ideas that the human race has created to quantify and separate people. Thats what humanity has a nasty habit of, separating people and things, making them distinguishably different. Why is someone of dark skin different than someone of white skin. We are both human, we both are made up of exactly the same atoms and organs. We run off of the same gases and liquids, the only difference is what the eye can see, the skin can touch, the ear can hear. Our senses lead us to quantify. This taste like shit, this taste good, what is really the difference? Our brain is the great illusionist using these 5 methods of control to lead us into false senses of what is good and what isn’t. Why isn’t everything equally as good or equally as important. It was all created, isn’t that reason enough for it to matter, if something really had no purpose why would it exist? Usually when someone makes the decision that something is of no use, it is of no use to them, to them personally, they look through the lens of I. The great I. People have lost the ability to take themselves out of the equation to remove them self from the situation. People have failed to see what they are doing to the planet, to the rain forest, to the animal kingdom and most of all to each other. They think about what is profitable, to them, what is pleasing to them. What is pleasing to everyone? When did one mouth become more important than the millions of mouths that go hungry night after night. When the fuck did people think that not sharing the money they have with others in need isn’t a good idea. When did greed come into the picture? I have an idea. I think that greed is just jealously hiding behind a masterfully crafted mask.
