grabbed by the scruff of the neck…

Pushing down on the end of the afternoon hoping to pop up the evening. With the angels hidden, my crippled ass was set to pulling together the various strands of silk into a more coherent picture of a boy finding a suitable place to stop and rest. Strange portents reek of museum quality sentimentality; saying goodbye to trusted compadres can do that to a kid.

Torn from the relative calm of the afternoon by choice; can’t unsuck the glass, nor would I ever want to. Reading through someone else’s* fright at the idea of going crazy I can’t help but wonder how I came to feel the same way about sanity. Seems so dull; artificial in the sense that nothing is ever really sane to begin with. Sane is normal, and normal is dead. Of course, pursuing this course of action has certain repercussions. No reason to let the get in the way of anything, but we might as well admit they do exist. Otherwise we’d be in for quite the shock to the system.

Roaming one of the last warm days of the year with eyes close to being closed and enjoying the organics of the afternoon. I’d expected a different emotional pattern to rule the day; must have something to do with over-fulfilled expectations. With the massive change in schedules, it is next to impossible to plan out any chess-like strategy. It impugns my freedom, as much an insult to creative construction as a phobic reaction to those of us still looking for what we’re supposed to be looking at. I was a late bloomer in everything from sex to drugs to rock n’ roll; how am I supposed to know there is a procession that demands to be followed? It’s brushed off the same way as a heckling crowd. Asking me to be anything but that would waste both our times, and that doesn’t seem like a good idea.

Whatever the formulations of whats to come, the reinforcements arrive right on time. Hearts & lungs are giving their all, a full on press for one of those passionate deep tongue kisses that leave the air sparkling. Adding in the magical potions to this dreamer’s afternoon requires a delicate finger dance performed at half-speed; we went the other direction entirely. For all the claims by the pretender crew, nothing has changed except at the connections between sensory intake and de-scrambling of the message. I wish I could make you feel it for the briefest of time, but the only converts to the cause are already fueling up for the evening’s rambunctious merriment. Cause and effect are sufficiently blurred, and our blood oath is sealed without movement. Stillness in the air, in the mind, in the muscles of the soul all relax.

Coming down from yesterday’s attempts at switchback engineering, today is a glorious celebration of sentience; making the choice and sticking with it, whatever shit is slung in our direction. Covert naturalism is the order of the day. Some parties are thrown down as tribute to some particular cause; not ours. Ours is the last gasp of agreement that my own particular brand of insanity isn’t fit for everyone. I prefer to spend my time and energy maintaining rather than excoriating.

No judgment, just support. Everyone is happy when the delivery man brings in the cylinders and cupcakes. More fuel for the crazies. We must shriek tonight; what else can we do? Everything that hurts is shoved off to the side; another night of rotting won’t make it any worse. Nights of conquest are no time for self-pity. In fading memory, I could feel tonight over-taking expectation. Expecting to see wet-eyed longing, I found pure comfort. My partner in crime is kind enough to illuminate the way; pull here, breathe now, hold for as long as you can. Nothing is awarded without proper placement. Onward until we reach the golden city. In this light, who can tell?

*”I Don’t Want To Be Crazy” by Samantha Schultz. Cannot reccomend this poetic memoir enough. Fan-fucking-tastic book.

7 Responses to “grabbed by the scruff of the neck…”

  1. Ah, you in you element – you do what you do so well!

  2. I really should get closer to this screen “your element”

  3. Yeah, when I’m feeling good I don’t usually bother to hide it. Bother’s the fuck out of all the ex’s, and most of my friends don’t comment anyway, so nothing like exerting a little granular energy in the vain hope someone is listening. Out of curiosity, what do you see as my element? Never hurts to know what to look for.

    • Gave this some thought as I went about my day. As time passes we change and the element/environment we exist in changes. We either decide to offset those differences or take another course – hopefully using past experince and skills to our advantage. I do feel you will be doing interesting things well into your later years – like Benjamin Franklin. There is something different about you. Strategy skills, simplicity, brilliance, tenacity – I could go on… but have to save some words of praise for another day/time. Don’t want you to “puff up” too much all at one time – might leave stretch marks.

      • Much like most of my kind, I do my best to keep my head down and work on something that I hope brings some joy to at least one other person reading my words each day. That is enough; you don’t have to praise me. Trust me, I can offer plenty of testimonials to what a fucking asshole SOB motherfucker I am in the real world, so my ego size, aside from all joking around, won’t change. I deeply appreciate your kind words. I can honestly say I have never heard most of them applied to myself, but I do like the sound of them. All bullshit aside (and most of it is just that) thanks again. Rest assured I’m just another in a long line of jesters looking for a laugh. It’s ok, I laugh at me all the time. Off to write some more, seems poking my head up after three or four years of this is working out pretty good. Itchykoo Park kind of thing; too fucking funny as always.


      • And not taking yourself too seriously is also a very nice trait!

      • Can’t take anything seriously. Haven’t seen any reason to in my travels, but if it changes, I’m sure it’ll be noticeable.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: