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Thread started by
lackflag at 06.7.10 - 1:24 am
so im back at the library. laptop, ten speed, but this time no six pack, just a tall boy. a small jet just passed overhead on its way into van nuys, and im trying not to disturb the black widow sleeping next to me. i check on her every 15 seconds or so to make sure hasn't mistaken me for her husband.
yesterday i went to thr fmly ride. i rode all the way from northridge, first time in a long time ive ridden more than 5 miles in one trip. just as i hit ventura there was the westwood bus waiting to take me over the pass. good omen.
i showed up just in time to drink a beer and watch the ocean a little bit. at the first stop some guy accidentaly hit me with his empty five hour energy as he threw it one the ground. i decided i didn't have the patience for a standing around in random places ride, tossed the guys trash for him, and hit the road. im sure it would've been fun, i just had to follow my guts. on santa monica boulevard and 26 i saw the number 4 coming up behind me but for some reason i just kept riding. it passed me once and then i passed it and never saw it again. all the way to hollywood.
earlier in the day, riding down sepulveda on my way to the ride, i was talking to myself about freedom. it was a bunch of gibberish, to be sure, but know i think i see what i was getting at. the freedom i need isn't the freedom to do what i want. that kind of freedom is false. nobody can do whatever they want. the most powerful man in the world is bound to certain rules that grant him that power, just like the man in prison is bound to the rules that put him in a cell. don't call it freedom that i want. call it peace of mind. freedom to say, "it is written" and enjoy it because its written well.
i think somebody just threw a rock at me. whatever the intent, a baseball-sized rock just hit a mustang parked about 15 feet away, and i feel like taking it as a sign. just because superstition is groundless, doesn't make it wrong.
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This is my contribution. This is my masterpiece. A capable hand onto dead ears. Walking on a steel contraption that makes me fly. Punching at a plastic box that makes me sitting. Totally self conscious. Totally listless, but continually content. Self-congratulatory episodes are symptoms of internal unrest. Here is me, sitting outside the school building fully three weeks after classes have ended. I am totally free, and I am a prisoner of habit. Never was any which was to get away from the They. Once you think you've got it, that's when it's got you where it wants you. This is my contribution. This is my masterpiece. Careful what I wish for, I just keep on wishing. Songs like a sound. lahdeedadedaadedaadedaa. Soon. Soon! What a lie! Time to fly.
lackflag responding to a
comment by trickmilla
06.8.10 - 1:35 am
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Come tomorrow I'll be officially "staring down the barrel of 40", as ms. Stephanie likes to say.
I don't know how people with long nails type, I really should cut mine.
the reverend dak responding to a
comment by lackflag
06.8.10 - 12:21 pm
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Ridazz Roulette!
