Blues and the Self-Possesed Bastard that I am

When I was about 12 years old or so, complete with jean jacket, mullet, and the general feeling that everyone was an asshole, out to get me, and completely misunderstood me, I was saved from my destructive behavior by my grandfather and his amazing aptitude for guitar playing. He introduced me to blues music, which at its rawest and most expressive, is just a few chords and a phrasing of lyrics that at first listen are quite repetitive-however it is what most music lacks- it is TRUE.
What is true in my life? That's a question that is not as complicated as I would like. It would be easy to shrug it off, complaining that's it's too difficult to wrap my head around-so lets smoke a cigarette, take a pill, watch t.v., or whatever mind-numbing exercise I could engage in to forget about the act of scaring the shit out of myself by actually taking a long, deep look inwards.
The truth is the expression I'm seeking by writing this should be a reflection of the things I see and the way those things make me feel, and perhaps somewhere in that pool of bullshit some kinda beauty might float to the surface, and within that moment some serenity could be scraped off and maybe stick around a while.

Reborn and realized

In my younger days, experience was a word that encompassed all things " cool. " After reading books that were deemed somewhat subversive and generally considered to be off ill impression- I believed that if I put myself in harms way, that i too, could gain experience, and in doing so, could obtain " cool. " But, " cool " much like " beauty " is not just in the eye of the beholder, and regrettably also unobtainable. It seems to be something you stumble upon, more often than not, something you stub your toe on. Today, I am experienced. Today, I am cool ; in the dirtiest, down-trodden way possible- and I love it.

This day
could be longer
and this feeling
way stronger
than previously thought
the path I sought
and shit I bought
formed no folded, embracing arms

you Stand Above and you Rise Below
you Show Some Love and you Touch and Go

the pain is
as real
as perception
as passing fancy
as truth and deception

You don't suck blood-you just suck.

Unless you've been hiding under a rock, which i totally wouldn't fault you for, i'm sure you have been equally super-saturated which " vampire " everything. Books, movies, t.v., and probably music too-but i'm not so sure about the music part; last i heard specifically vampire music was Concrete Blond's " Bloodletting " album, and that was fuckin' forever ago. Since when did pretending to suck blood become cool? Who the hell started this trend? I understand that dark, decadent behavior could seem cool to kids that don't know any better, but I was 12, I read a few Anne Rice books, thought they were okay, and didn't grow up to wear frilly shirts and get fang dental implants.
I guess thats all I have on that topic. I could go on, but why bother? Blah.

This Summer

I saw you
and you seemed to be
so happening
in that striped sun dress
and you seemed to be
grinning at the mess
that is my mind

Silly strange girl

Boredom strikes on a summer afternoon

So.....I've been hitting the " Next Blog " button, checking out other people and what they blog about; its crazy how many people of the Judeo-Christian faith have a blog. I know, I know- I just posted something in the realm of religion, but I had to share my amazement. I mean, shouldn't they be praying instead of blogging? Is blogging their way of reaffirming their choice of spiritual journey? Okay, I may be a little discriminating, prejudiced, blah, blah, blah. I dunno. It strikes me as odd.

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The " super-hip " owner of the coffee shop i frequent keeps calling me Andy. I've corrected him a couple of times in the past year, but now I'd rather just let it go. Besides, its kinda cool to have another name. This could fun. Hasn't everyone wanted to be someone else at one time or another? I could create a whole other life.......or not. Feels kinda schizophrenic when I type it out.

" Are you there, God? It's me, you giant asshole. "

Belief in some kinda Higher Power does not come easily to me. Honestly, the entire concept is painful to digest. In my younger days, I thought if there was such an entity as " GOD ", that I would kick the shit outta him/her/it upon our first meeting. Now, I approach the idea with a much more mellow attitude. I don't pray. I don't kneel before anything. I don't trust that everything will be taken care of. I have just two things, that I've borrowed from somwhere, to lay before the thought of faith: God helps those who help themselves, and Faith without works is dead.

What i should be doing.....

No, this is not what i should be doing. If I were to actually give a fuck about what I should be doing, I wouldn't be sitting in this coffee shop when i should be at work. I would instead be contributing to society, the government, my wallet, etc. by participating in the daily grind. Not today. Today is for coffee, cigarettes, sketchbook, pondering the point of my role in things.
I don't really care about the World Cup. I mean, its kinda cool that Landon Donovan feels more " in the zone " this time but thats just because i wanna be " in the zone." Whatever the hell that feels like.
I should be mowing the lawn. Its hot, and since when did i start paying attention to all those commercials telling me to care about the lushness of my lawn?
What i should be doing is figuring out a way to exist in this world without feeling inadequate; feeling unsatisfied; feeling expressionless.

...but i don't wanna rant

This might be the only available outlet for the masses of us- docile, disturbed, square pegs of people trying desperately to fit in the circular holes of normal society. I don't fit. I never did. I never will. I don't want to.
Today was a good day to lay in the hammock, smoke some cigarettes, and watch the tree limbs above sway in the spring breeze.
Lately its hard to focus-well.....its always been hard to focus, but lately I'm more aware of it-and unwilling to distract myself with petty proclivities such as television, daily chores, somewhat compelling novels, facebook,etc.
Jim Carroll just wanted to be pure. Johnny wanted Pony Boy Curtis to stay gold. Of me I'm not so sure. It feels late and I'm getting old.