43/365 - Advice
15 February 2012 00:35Write through the owls of your mind that make the black curtains of nocturnal living seem attractive. Crochet paper airplane lace-doily lightness from your craning-neck tension trying to see shuttle launches from 1985 Cape Canaverals. When all your heart knows is that there have been no moon walks recently and that the backstage passes are dated 1972 and gathering dust.
Stereophonic beach condos, rectangular in their architectural beauty, relax in the fog. Cookouts and a sense of being behind-the-scenes of something are helping beach-party men who retired early relax. It’s the dream, kid. It’s the dream seen through the wrong end of binoculars. Keep rowing.
When does a freight train become a falling elevator? Ask women with husbands at war smoking a pack a day manufacturing AK47s for the war effort. Ask deep sea divers who have been down too long falling in love with mermaid sirens. Ask getting to the sunset in your boat only to find it’s a Wile E Coyote painting and you’re in a giant room.
When everything thrilling is peeled away and your life becomes as exciting as an iPhone searching for wireless connections in a basement, it’s time to hit the eraser hard and dial up some lost weekends into being. Bring some forgotten walks back from the dead. Gateway your sadness into dimensions that don’t matter. Enjoy the pleasure of simply not being until the deadness becomes alive without the aid of witchdoctors, frankensteins, or potions.
When you are ready, you’ll be able to sip volcanos and ride polar bears. Until then, grease yourself. Don’t make it easy for the bullets.
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Stereophonic beach condos, rectangular in their architectural beauty, relax in the fog. Cookouts and a sense of being behind-the-scenes of something are helping beach-party men who retired early relax. It’s the dream, kid. It’s the dream seen through the wrong end of binoculars. Keep rowing.
When does a freight train become a falling elevator? Ask women with husbands at war smoking a pack a day manufacturing AK47s for the war effort. Ask deep sea divers who have been down too long falling in love with mermaid sirens. Ask getting to the sunset in your boat only to find it’s a Wile E Coyote painting and you’re in a giant room.
When everything thrilling is peeled away and your life becomes as exciting as an iPhone searching for wireless connections in a basement, it’s time to hit the eraser hard and dial up some lost weekends into being. Bring some forgotten walks back from the dead. Gateway your sadness into dimensions that don’t matter. Enjoy the pleasure of simply not being until the deadness becomes alive without the aid of witchdoctors, frankensteins, or potions.
When you are ready, you’ll be able to sip volcanos and ride polar bears. Until then, grease yourself. Don’t make it easy for the bullets.
tags