I fell asleep with the television on. Some show about white trash doing white trash things. That being said, I wake up in a terrible mood in a terrible motel and man, it’s time to get back to the small town blues with small town looks and nothing is flowing today. I’m in a funk. Nobody cares.
I’m such a contradiction. You’re often told to go with your first answer. I don’t. I go with my second, and damn, I’m always wrong, usually, but I’m learning, and I keep going. I go miles out-of-the-way, and I get, I am, I get, I AM; I’m always so damn tired.
Shoes on and about ready to leave. My feet hurt but so it goes. Your feet are bound to hurt on the road less traveled. I’m dying, so are you and you. Ahh…hell, we’re all dying, but even then, even when I know that I’m a dead boy back tracking it on back to that acid trail that leads back to my hometown, well even then when I’m having a real bad time at this living and writing thing, well even then I’m loving it, EVERYTHING; even my anger and my pain and the hurting fingers and cold days that are coming to kill me, even then, I LOVE…
And I’m laughing and loving everything, well everything but American Television, because it makes me feel evil, like I’m doing something immoral, ALL OF THE TIME.
Everything but the TV, I’m in love with it all, because really, who am I, well I know who I was yesterday.
Last night I was just another traveler, another reporter on the beat. I was just another lost drunkard with his pen in his shaking hand trying to write while the rain came down behind some country bar at three in the morning. I was in love with life, and it was fine, everything was OK maybe even the existence of American TV, maybe, probably not. But I was content and living my life, and I don’t know, I was just another human lost somewhere within the darkness all alone. The only thing that kept me going is the same thing that usually always keeps me going, it was love, it was the wrong answer, it was the rain drops and the coming snow, it was the darkness of the worst of days that are yet to come, and that wrong answer is a path for the adventurers in life, and in a way, it might turn out to be the right one. Sometimes following that which is counter-intuitive makes for something great, or so says, the history of all great discovery.