Living in this sweet suburban bubble I realised the need for exploration outside the comforts of life that somehow cannot be escaped. There is nothing sweeter than receiving the old school mixed tape from a guy you dig or seeing the face of that guy when you give one.
The life I’m talking about involves the sweet and the bitter. As a wise man once said: "life ain’t so sweet without the bitter". A life: plagued with alcohol; sex and drugs; non-conventional sex such as threesomes or masturbation. Whilst, sitting in recliners listening to some perpetual dribble smoking weed while the guy next to me snorts his forth line of coke; I even consider for, a moment, taking a hit myself. But reminding myself that I’m better than that, not knowing how I got into this particular position. My head fills with fuzz and I giggle to myself as everyone around me is oblivious.
I eventually convince myself I can walk and then I go and fall down right ban centre in the middle of a pile of shit a horse was kind enough to leave in the road. Coming crashing down gives me a reality check. I feel momentarily jealous of the friend I witnessed having drunken sex; then I reminded myself that I have had my fair share of that and it’s not all really that great.
Considering crying myself to sleep, I curl up into a ball; thinking life is not all that bad in the scheme of things. Whilst, drawing inspiration from songs of love and hurt and movies with the same connotations. The envy I feel of the perfection of the L.A. Hollywood lifestyle which is probably just some distorted mask of a truly fucked up life which somehow makes me more envious. Drinking vast quantities of wine, to make these thoughts of perfection become a blur; directly regretting it.
This is the life I’m talking about.
Listening to jazz, whilst wondering why the friends I’ve chosen do not get the same, tingly, feeling when their ears are plagued with this task. Completely questioning my friendships for a split second but then realise that, yes, sometimes they are a bit damn shitty but recognising and appreciating that they held my hand through thick and thin. People say that it is great to question things but I often wonder if my life has been filled with endless questions and no definitive answers. I suppose that is what my philosophy of life is based on: No definitive answers; in all fairness no one has all the boxes ticked.
Wondering what life would be like if things had been different and shocking myself with drastic thoughts. Stroked and bereaved and working hard, often obliviously to those around me. I feel incredibly lucky not to be worse off. Still praying to nothing, because I don’t believe in an omnipotent being that makes life dandy, not to throw anymore shit my way.
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