alright then.

I'm going to leave a chapter of a little something i was working on. if nothing else to add content to this once great site.

Can you spend your whole life wishing you could change things? Does it matter if you do? There is too much luck and life inside regret. With filling all that space with perilous reach, we call ourselves to certainty. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, It wasn’t that I thought I shouldn’t stay, it was always the frame of further wandering.

Before it all started, before that summer started, I wondered if I was placing my desire in a far off place. I wondered if all I sought was the position of seeking. I wondered everything a man could wonder. For me there are no answers. There is nothing for the worry lines. I believe in all things great and real but nothing else. Illusion holds me close.

It was far past the winter and the weather had changed, in Wisconsin we drank and talked and we chain-smoked the death out of cancer. A gang of Milwaukee kids felt no pain. No need to be realistic, my bills had pilled high and Discover card gave me my morning wake up, then at eleven and then at one, relentless, unending, they crave the blood I bleed.

Purity was a lovely thing growing up, I thought I could hold it long enough to last. Putting my faith in rock and roll I stumbled towards the promise land, being brash, being great were the only things. I believed that with friends like these I wouldn’t need anything. My family loved me and supported me, I had love, had love, had love. I was young and strong. Alas believing in my own specific set of rules and only those, made quick work of my optimistic spirit. I failed in all principals of my own ways.

My year in Milwaukee was great in panning me out. Handful’s of pills, and booze and grass and…where was I going with that? I feel I did a lot of things that weren’t helpful but the year was useful and fun and wicked. It was wicked I would say. My friends kept me moving and were supportive and funny. Even barely removed I miss them with a bad hunger, but maybe it’s my mood, mostly I miss them. I worked in a head shop and smoked grass. My boss was an old Jewish man who had a tendency to call the store upwards of a hundred times a day. College was effortless besides the fact I had to think of a new excuse for every class I missed, which was more classes than I attended at one point. College had nothing for me.

So that morning I left, without a much of a plan, with no plan. Me and mike packed his Camry. He had secured himself a real life job in California and well, I was chasing the sun, but either way we were leaving. My mom drove me to his house that morning, in fact my parents drove me everywhere due to the fact the state had revoked my license. That story is one almost too painful to type at this moment but lord willing I will find the strength later and it will be included in this tale.

I am the worlds worst navigator, having nothing to do with any self inflicted mental disability my inner compass has always been as serviceable as flip flops in a snow storm, right idea, wrong season. On this particular trip I fail in my only duty by getting us sidetracked fifteen minutes from home, but mike is an optimistic guy, with good reason, he’s a cool confident cat with a promising job, so he keeps the tunes coming and forty five minutes later we are back on track. Fast forward a few hours and we cruise through central Illinois, an area I have become well acquainted with, stopping at a gas station the directions are somehow sucked out of the door. So in my three hour tenure as official navigator I had lost the map, gotten us lost and eaten a large bag of cool ranch Doritos. For this trip my shortcomings were the worst in the beginning I can only imagine that will take a drastic turn in the future.