Long Sweaters with Reindeer – III

Now what in the hell was I thinking before? I had it, but I did too many other things in between now and then and I’ve done gone and forgot about it. Silly Brian. I’m sure the history of toxins haven’t helped my memory all that much. Still, there is the hope that the profound thought that I believed to be so grand will soon return to me. Or at the very least, a new one will sprout up.

Something about ambition, or at least I think it is. So bold of a word and yet where is it? Will it not rear its head? I felt ambitious a few days ago. I still feel it today, but I fear it’s departure. But isn’t that just it, fear? Or love? But it isn’t so simple. Or maybe it is?

I don’t know love. At least not anything big involving love. I’ve had ideas, but they’ve been covered up and blurred and drugged and drunk. I have memories and such, but what good are they? The only good perhaps. The vibrant world of imagination and the potential it can create.

And all this because I just won’t write my paper about that rather good film I just watched. Makes me wonder what’s actually up in his head. I hope that it’s not something he can’t control, but then again, he’s got a lot more will power than i. Once he gets out of his little cage of teenage angst he’ll be alright. I suppose that’s what I’ve done… sort of.

I feel much better some of the time and yet at others there is this unbearable weight of guilt. I’m broken and vicious and reluctant and reckless. My actions are haphazard and my thoughts don’t have a word to be described by. I suppose no one with any real thoughts can describe them. That’s why people make music or paint or write poetry. There is no word to describe a thought or a feeling and yet the effort is still put forth. A few words tossed together may have a better shot at making the mark, but it will still fall short. Life I guess, it something that is worked at. There is always the option of quitting. You can always fail, but that’s scary and unacceptable so we shouldn’t talk about it.

Well I say fuck that. Let’s talk about it. Failure is this idea that everyone dodges. No one wants to fail or quit, but that’s bullshit because everyone wants to fail or quit or give up. We want to abandon the rat race and retire to a place on contentment, but you can’t. You can’t quit because then people will call you a quitter. You can’t fail because then you’d be a failure. Well I’m a quitter and a failure and I’m damn proud of it.

Let me elaborate on this because the point may not be properly understood. I quit trying to fit into the molds and holds that are set before me. I fail to be a piece of machinery that ticks away at its work to please some other being than myself. Fuck Pepsi and fuck the government and fuck Occupy Wall St. and fuck learning about individuality in school. It’s all the same shit. It’s all people who do the same thing. Even the people who are upset and believe as though they are doing something about it. They don’t know what or how or why to do anything, so they just do nothing in one place in a group. It doesn’t work like that. The intentions are good and justified but fuck, if you actually cared you would do something.

Anyway, this was not the idea that I had, but it is an idea none the less. I wrote them so you could see them. We could always talk about them, even if you think mine are stupid. I do need to get out of this place again soon, but it may be a while. I’ll escape to Manhattan again soon. Take a five hour breath on a ping pong table that has doubled as a bed for who knows how many people.

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