Archive for PHILOSOPHY

WARNING: This Post is Full of Marmosets. Pretty Cool, Right?

Posted in General, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 1, 2016 by jezzywolfe

When it is all said and done, what everyone will remember is I FORGOT TO BUY THE RIGHT BEANS!

How do you do that? Seriously? I stood in that store, thinking ‘How lucky is FullSizeRender(1)it they actually have a four pack of my lucky beans?’ In reality, that was only a lucky four pack if I was looking into some home loved version of a burrito. Don’t ask. It makes sense in my head. That’s all that matters.

I’m 15 shots in to the evening. Plus half a vodka beverage. I figure 16 shots is good. Don’t you? You figure, right? Yeah. We all do. It’s what we have in common. But you know what we don’t have in common? Leprosy. And that’s good, cause hella contagious. We’d have to start our own colony. But it’s okay, because I like you. If you want to start a colony, I’m totally down for that.

So anyway,  bought the wrong beans. I said, this year, I was taking no chances. I’d be following all the proper protocoals. The correct beans. Proper ham. Appropriate intoxication. 2016 would roll in with some big-ass approval, and I’d be making. Last year, it could have destroyed me. Sure. You’ve been through worse. But I’m a wimp, and it was bad enough. No more, please and thank you. I survived it, and ‘fuck you, universe’, for trying to wreck my train. It will take far more than you (or even you) to bring me off.

Somehow, I think that’s a bad participle.

IMG_2214Will I resolve anything? Fuck no! Do any of us, ever? We thrive on drama and pain. It’s true. Don’t be a fucknut here. Pull your head out of denial’s ass and see for yourself. We ARE Shirley Manson’s brain waves. I love her. Shoutout! But really, think about it. Life is boring when it’s good. We don’t recognize the good, even when it’s honey glazed and steaming on a fucking gold leafed platter. 24 karat perfection, and we are looking for the flawed gemstone in the crown.

But it’s not because we are emo hogs. I’m not. Neither is she. The reality is, we don’t grow when there is only light. We wither under too much warmth. Rain, pain, all that guts us, isn’t that what teaches us to grow? Not because we are smart enough to see that shit for what it is, but because, in hindsight, we get it. Rear view, bitches. We emerge the tumbled obsidian in some hippy’s hemp choker. And that’s okay. That shit’s beautiful! You go, with your shiny, black self. You’d look great on my finger. Just saying.

I looked at the end of this year with incredible dread. I hate ends. Even FullSizeRenderwhen it’s the end of a very bad thing. 2015…well, it wasn’t a great ting. But still, I didn’t look forward to ending it. And now, it’s a new year. There are no imminent apocalypses. BORING. But also, anti-climatic. I miss a good Mayan/Hopi prophesy, don’t you?! When it was one of those ‘piss or get off the pot’ scenarios? But with banderos?

Do or die. And we all did. Most of us didn’t die. Hemingway was loving it. I don’t know why, exactly. But he was. I might be loving it. I can’t tell.

Shot #16. One for every year this century has fucked me. I’m still standing. A little wobbly, sure, but alcohol. I’ll be standing when the sun comes back up. And most of you will, too. Unless you’re really hung over, in which case, HA! But not because I’m mean. I’d still give you a hug. I like you. Really. If you only liked me half as much, we’d be golden. Maybe, one day, you will.

In the meantime, I won’t resolute. I will drink responsibly. Meaning, when I drink, I’ll be serious about that shit. (And, no, I will NOT drive.) I have some goals for myself, and they will be good ones. They have to do with finishing a novel. Possibly a short story collection, too. AND ever a poetry collection. Why not? I sometimes string words in unexpectedly coherent ways.

And you thought you were the only ones.

So, here’s shot #16. My goal was not to be able to remember tonight. I’m getting close. I need relief. My heart beats too hard for this. Sometimes the palpitations leave bruises under my skin. Here’s to feeling less, at least for just a little while.

All my love to you. Stay strong. Your light always makes a difference to me.

 

 

 

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