Sunday Morning Thoughts 2.10.13

If I had been able to hold on to all of those memories I’ve managed to let slip away, what kind of man would I be today? Would I be different, or better, or just the same. Would this heart of mine, still recall the pain? The one that I’ve crafted for myself. The one of my own design. To this past, there is no future. To this life, there may be no divine.

But who am I, to say anything at all? I am but the biggest fish, in a pond so very small. I might have made up the prophesized call which has to tell me not to stall. And here I am, barely at a crawl. A man of dreadful winters, but never any fall.

Unless you speak of grace, as this tumble I know well. It is and seems easier to buy than sell for no one cares to expel hard earned nothingness for something. They halt before the thought to bring enough gusto to make this radio sing. But this speech lacks point, as it was known to be. For this mind of mine may be too free, to dream up shackles for the world to see and say someday “that boy’s been through hell with no blood to pay.”


If you asked why, I’d give you no reply that was worth a lick of anything but empty words painted prettily for the ears. Which is exactly what I’ve done. I’ll promise myself that I will not continue, but that is yet to be seen. I like the words but I’d rather have them full of something.

So Brian, this craft that you often proclaim as yours seems to be ever eluding to you. Why might that be? Dost thou have any kind of good reason? Or are you just lazy and insufficiently able to stand on your own? Are you not as good as you seem to always think you are?

I’m sorry, but I can hardly tell who I am anymore. I have created this identity, this alter-ego, this monster of a person and now I may be coming to hate it. I waved to a human that I know at my school, where I know fucking everyone. This was a day that was not today but has only a few yesterdays between here and now. I was tired and unenthused, as my day was stretched out with nonsense and my flesh had grown weary. I was not sad, I just didn’t throw out some stupid line and do a dance when I said hello, so this person assumed something was wrong. The asked if I was alright with concern that seemed genuine.

My personality has become entertainment for others, as I already know my anger makes people laugh. Whether this was my intent doesn’t remove the idea that is now. I am a jester. I’d join the circus but I don’t have any skills that they’re looking for.

But to change subjects now, let’s discuss something else. What? Yes I can do that. I have power enough to guide you down one direction and then pull you away from it. Why? Because I can silly.

So the new subject at hand was to be comprised of something but I seem to have had it slip my mind, as can often happen when you’re not paying attention. Or paying too much attention. Something like that.

But in the spirit of progression, I will trundle along to no particular end. I could devise and escape plan, or a coup of sorts. I could sit and write about nothing which is a strange idea when you begin to think about it more than you should. I say I write and call myself a writer but I only type. I don’t even produce the physical work as I toil. It’s digitized and oh so easily erased. All of this could disappear for eternity if the right steps were taken.

But I suppose fire does a good job with those actual writing, but it still makes some sort of ash.

I’ve never been, but you can go to Pompeii over on the Mediterranean and look at ancient humans as the died. They’re just frozen there in the final moments of a terrifying death they didn’t quite understand. You can take pictures of them. I don’t know if they let you too close to them, but I imagine there are many pictures that your mother would find inappropriate. I mean, look at what people do with the Leaning Tower.


But they’re hunting for a man in the west. This is the first time that a drone is being used on U.S. soil. The fellow has killed some people and is on the run in the snowy mountains of California. He wrote what the media is calling a ‘manifesto’ about what he is intending to do and why he is doing it. It’s addressed to America. It’s quite good. I disagree with his methods but there are those who believe you have to fight fire with fire still.

They’ll find him, I’m sure. They will also kill him I imagine. Cali has the death penalty still, so he may get a trial if he’s caught. I imagine it’s more likely he’ll die in combat. This man does not seem intent on going down and is more than qualified to keep a fight going. However, any of his words will most likely be discredited for the most part. There may be some discussion but there always has been. That’s the problem with talking, it’s not doing. The problem with doing anything though, is that people talk about it after.

Killing people will never stop killing or get peace. People always like a few other people so if you kill one, there’s a grand chance you’ve just made a new killer. Wars have only gotten deadlier. The world seems to have become more dangerous and all we’ve been doing is fighting more. Killing a terrorist will only create more. It’s the same as killing someone’s hero. Someone will be inspired to pursue that dream at the same cost. In fact, there are few differences between a terrorist and a hero. It’s just how you choose to look at it.

There, how’s that? I didn’t talk about girls once.


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