This is the next generation of fucked up. Flying in the sky of Vredenburg airways hanging out with the peeps of shackville. I’ve been without a purpose and without a realization to feel my own destiny. So instead of waiting, because waiting is just another word for procrastinating, i chose to take over the world one small insignificant word at a time. Comfortably taking residence in a car, sweating my balls off listening to Alanis Morrissette telling me about a man crashing in a plane the fist time he ever flew and it got me thinking. Stop waiting for the moon to ice over and chuckle silently at the shoulda coulda woulda’s in life and instead rejoice in the fuuuuck I’m actually doing this oh my hellshits!
I’m counting the seconds to total anihilation. I’m feeding the debris of my sweat moustache trickle tastefully onto my lips. Today. i’m gonna get it right. Today i’m gonna show the world what i’m actually here for. Not just to fuck around serving tables, growing callouses and pocketing bits of dollah that disappear faster than a bat being shot out the sky. i’m gonna make a difference. So i was thinking. Yes, occassionally this does actually occur...
i’m gonna write. Well durr.... that’s all i was made for – P.S. Thanks god – I am gonna blog my way onto stage. I already have an audience. People sit in my section not coz i’m good at selling them my favourite meals and drinks, but because i’m entertaining and when they’re with their mother in law who’s a pain in the ass and the last thing he wants to do is endure an entire meal with this woman-from-hell, at least they’ll be distracted from their distaste for each other due to my amazing presence.
i’m basically like jesus plus tits minus supernatural occurences.... yet. Soon i’ll be doing the supernatural stuff. Just you wait. Yes i’m allowed to tell you to wait, but i’m no longer allowed to wait for shit to fly by my closed eyes. So yes, i’m gonna show the world that any jack henry or casandra can make miracles happen. And no i’m not lesbatarian, don’t send me your used panties. What you can do, in fact, is send me bucketloads of cash and truckloads of illegal substances so i can stand on the hilltop and throw money and drugs onto the streets below and watch how the insects scuttle for their prefered demise.
it’s interesting to watch humans as opposed to be a part of the human race. I greet customers at the door, ‘good day, members of the human race’. i’m not even joking. Ask anyone i’ve seated. They think i’m fucked up. I mean, they know.
Oh yes, so my plan. Fame by blogging. So you already know i hand out poems to any james, samantha and christelle who looks my way, and most of those shards of awesomeness have my blog written on neatly (wahahaha). So when these victims get off their lazy asses and connect to my brainstreaming, they’ll firstly need counselling, and then they’ll start reading. And once they’ve read it all, they’ll need to be incarcerated for a short while till their brains have mended themselves. Stop eyeballing me, this shit is real. I knew a guy once...
fuck distraction. Ok, so i’m gonna write in my blog precisely what i want in a job.
It’ll be the kind of job where i wake up in the morning and exclaim ‘oh my god is this real?’ The kind of job where i hear that stupid bitch on the gps tell me ‘you have reached your destination’. And the people i work with are all like minded and full of healing and love and they love what they do and that love fills everyones soul with excitement for the next step in the ladder of existence. The kind of job where you know you are helping people reach their destination just by doing what you wanna do. And i am writing my way into that job. The right person at the right time will randomly come for dinner with business associates – all amazingly beautiful people. I will serve them the way i serve everyone else, i’ll accost them with my poems and make them wonder about my sanity, and these people will embrace my insanity. They will come in the following week after meetings and desicions and they will take me with them and i will arrive to a place where there is a stage and art and people with inspiration in a broken world. People who wear their hearts on their sleeves, people who want to watch the world embrace the beauty within. it’s harder to stand alone and conquer the world than to stand hand in hand with millions of others and take on those demons that distract us from ourselves.
it’s weird how my mind can so easily stream into something easily readable and a bit eye opening and how it makes me feel like i can write for years and years and never bore of my own words. Is this called passion? Am i passionate about writing? Am i in love with my own words? Sadly, yes, this i believe, is true. It makes me feel vain in a way, but it feels a bit less reidiculous than staring aimlessly into your own reflection.
No comments:
Post a Comment