when there is no risk, freedom and excitement are lost. | August 10, 2011

reintegration rolls around in my head wondering what that could look like. I went to college one time and the only thing I learned is another option… resistance… and it hasn’t subsided quickly.

It’s not an addiction,

it’s more like,

Passivity enables destructive habits and bombastic chaos becomes a beacon through flat lined existence.

Every thought has already been thought and every word diagnosed each action has judgement passed on it. But there are “inexhaustible possibilities to existence.” Most of the reality we traverse is created with words spoken out loud then counter digested to form a response that fits. Fits being the most illusive part. “Fits” like helps the conversation flow in the way that it has been otherwise scripted in order to sustain normalcy.

There are riots happening, water bubbling over in all places. There is water boiling over inside my veins but it is no longer tainted with resentment. It is goose bump producing life. Cliff jumping extacy.

 I wont dwell. My thoughts have no space for it. Life passes too quickly through my body.

[you know, i have to be an anarchist. i am way too bull for this china shop.]

I feel far from the conflict in my community these days. I am overwhelmed with happiness most moments. It really makes no sense in the context of the reality I have been prescribed. Not many thinks my happiness should look like it does.  If only I had my son here now. I won’t force us into the confines of this culture ever again. I won’t willingly wear chains for acceptance. If only my son were here now.

The distance from the conflict is somewhat concerning. Just an illusion right? Is this space to breathe a result of my work or the comfort of my denial? Should people be falling in love with me? Should I worn them? Should I showdown with the epicness of Dave?

Speaking of Dave, It’s funny. Dave is in all reality my biggest fan. He’s like my little hidden angel. He exists behind the scenes and possibly believes he is invincible but he seeps through. Good ol’ Mr. Bombastic. I don’t know how many times I have been riding around town peddling away and thought to myself. “Damn we could’ve grown a lot together, Dave and I.” The more I think about dialogue with him in public the more I picture him when he is alone. I think about what he thinks about in silence. It can’t really always be an argument he must win. He has to think of the emotional elements of each of us. There is a reason he views life in that way right? Just like I view life through the goggles of pretty much half celestial warrior/street thug… ha.

But we’ve done it again. The convolution of our dynamics. All of us to blame. All of us valid.  And Zach is the lone man out. So alone. I have been there as much as I can. Resisting the hypocrisy of my theory. I feel I’ve done well. I feel I’ve been there much more than society tells me I should’ve been. We can’t do this alone. One on one. It hurts mostly because the community has another chance to learn from the massive destruction they at least half own. This is an opportunity to place ego aside and actually work through the social struggle they so invest themselves in. This could be a practice in having the gull to hold each other intimately through animosity and rage. It is blatantly obvious Zach needs everyone. Now. And no matter what, people deserve people.


We should swollow the risk it takes to love each other. That is where our freedom is caged up.


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1 Comment »

  1. I want you to know, that despite everything we’ve been thru, despite all the shit, you are constantly showing up as a friend in all the ways that i need. You are so good to me…

    you know what this actually reminds me of? remember this?

    what can i say?
    your honesty melts me

    foresight could not have predicted the stories to be unfurled
    and I imagine few could be written as such
    tonight, though, we can look at the same stars
    the light flickers the same for each and everyone of us
    and hearts?
    who knew what hearts can know?
    telepathy from an earlier age,
    sand box dreams of lovers things,
    and invisible unions found only upon a fables prose
    can you feel me bleed?
    yes even the pain here siphons ecstasy

    solace washes over in waves
    and salt water reminds us we can swim
    how i wish i had held your hand that day,
    not as your savior
    but to feel your skin
    the difference between lovers and friends is only a fire
    so heres your bottle and a match
    we only get one shot,
    good thing there is no missing,
    you only have to get close

    Comment by Zach — August 11, 2011 @ 10:56 pm

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