Thursday, September 23, 2010

A Forlorn Last Call

Again looking at the sky. Seeking divine intervention. Day in and day out. Wondering if the empty house I live in will ever come alive. Marks on my skin tell a story without words to express it's trajectory. I dance in my underwear drunk on booze and silliness while waiting and yelling at the Gods to come down and look me in the face fore I feel I deserve some kind of explanation. But, I never get one ... ever. The night is always darkest just before the dawn they say. They say a lot of things don't they? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, they say. You can lead a horse to water but you cant make him drink, they say. Stop looking and it will find you, they say. Daniel Johnston says it wont find you unless your lookin and he's a fuckin idiot savant. People always have something to say to me. Whether it's the obvious or some shitty advice that they wouldn't follow themselves even if they walked a mile. The thunder rains inside my skull from lack of stimulation and a hand to hold. I feel as if I forgot how to feel sometimes. Phantom pains of what was or could never be. I get confused sometimes trying to work it out in my mind. Because of our rotation around the sun time seems linear. But when I try and recall those memories from the darkest corners of my storage facility it does not come in a linear fashion. It flows in a randomness that centers on chaos. A chaos I've learned to embrace. A chaos that breeds random violence, the unthinkable and the forlorn. What? I heard them say something .... I hope it wasn't last call. I need another.



I stared at the comment box for a really long time because I didn't know what to say. I still don't.

But if you need some sober silliness and like bubbles and/or rooftops and/or my presence and have time late tonight or tomorrow night (I'm talkin' 10 or 11ish), I can help you out.

Aaron Barker said...

You don't have to say anything Sarah. No need.