evenings that start out with discussions about jack kerouac and end with thoughts about jack kerouac are usually dangers to be simultanously avoided and embraced when encountered.
they usually start off with friends, and hope, and america.
the nights usually find you alone, even if you are not alone, (i happened to be alone in both the literal and metaphorical sense), drinking the bitter cup of nothingness and excess.
it started at two on good friday. the day jesus died. with some new friends from college. a tax return had just arrived and celebration was apparently in order.
there we were, three old poet souls, lamenting and debating everything in that joyous way that only young people can. we talked of writing, and ethics and the delusion of reality.
and we drank. lord, we drank.
at around seven, one of us, a brilliant but excessive young man named brandon, was kicked out of the bar.
he almost got into two fights with two different waitresses.
this left two of us, hank and myself, and hank's girlfriend. we felt bad for the incident but would not be dissuaded from our goal:
enlightenment through destruction.
the destruction always comes first.
enlightenment is still on its way.
after a ride home from my present crush (she called to check on me and insisted she give me a ride) i found myself kneeling before God and the toilet.
wishing for better role models.
praying for the truth i am so eager to deny.
9:26 a.m. - 2007-04-07
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
God. - 2014-10-27
I remember me. - 2014-10-17
The Paper - 2014-10-13
A Post About Not Doing Anything - 2014-10-12
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