I get to write whatever the fuck I want these daze.

I’ve been thinking a lot about words; language; expression.

The other night, I made sounds that resembled song; harmony; pitch.

For just a few seconds, I let myself be in the moment. It felt good.

—ooOoo—

—ooOoo—

“Take away the right to say ‘fuck’ and you take away the right to say ‘fuck the government.'” —Lenny Bruce

—ooOoo—

I grow tired of judgment. Tired of hearing other people explain my intentions. Intentions they know nothing about. Other’s projection.

It’s a slippery slope. My tendency is to be alone. I prefer it. So to try and engage, then to be criticized, makes me wanna hide. To simply be alone.

It’s always the same thing. There’s a theme. Makes me feel toxic. Makes me wanna runaway. Better to avoid than to be hurt. To simply be alone.

I grow tired of judgment. Exhausted with analysis, with explanation, justification. Ignorant people saying ignorant things. Other’s projection.

—ooOoo—

Singing makes me think of Spanish. I used to be fluent in both, but now it pains me to try. I can hear it in my head. I’m not tone deaf, and I understand the words – but my body refuses to let it happen. Some fucking ancient strange resistance – muscles unable to move – feels totally foreign to me.

It’s not a matter of intelligence. Billy may speak five languages, but I’ve never heard Billy ever utter a fucking word worthwhile in any of them. Carl may be fiercely proficient in piano, but Carl’s just a bird parroting someone else’s work. A melodic xerox machine copying sheet music.

Substance over form. Jake may be an excellent writer, but what the fuck has Jake wrote for us lately? Nuthin; and why? Dude has so much fucking material in his head. Why’s he holding out? Abbie wants to hear some sexy stories. Susan needs shit for gossip. Deb needs to get her pussy wet.

I’m trying. It’s been a really hard month. Strangely, it’s also been one of the most amazing months of my life. So write about it. How do you write about it? I used to lean into alcohol. Oh boy, the things we’d used to write sucking down a frozen bottle of petron. Oof – and all the strange women.

Did Jake ever write about that jag that ended in Hawaii? And fuck Hawaii – Joshua Tree was probably the worst, and we don’t even talk about that one. Then, there’s that honeymoon thing. Are we allowed to write about that one? I don’t see why not. Most surely past the statute of limitations.

*sigh*