Rock and Roll train

This one reminds me of song that a late friend of mine did once. He was always rolling in a train in his head. A high of sorts that kept him strumming along.

Good for Something

I want to want to be a charmer

I want to want to be a better Christian

I want to want to settle for less than greatness

I want to want to be filthy rich or die trying

I want to want to keep doing what I love regardless of the returns

But even with all that could be and all that isn’t

The fact is I am who I am and want what I want

It, too, is good for something

What we want

Is there ever really a flat line;  a point where everything in your life is so smooth that you need a "Beware slippery floor" sign above it just to walk on? There really never is. At least not in my life. There are kinks and bumps you have to get over. I have managed to convince myself that they are the real motivation for going through each day. But don’t we ever get tired?  Don’t we get tired of chasing dreams that can’t give us a break once in a while. The truth is we all want something. Nobody needs anything. The desire for something is what makes us want to continue living. Otherwise the illusion of an inflated want is sometimes called a need. It’s all just a game of want and desire. The only reason we continue playing is because we have seen others win and tell us we can win too and we get the hopeful feeling that we actually might.

So sometimes, fortunes does heed our call when we least expect it and throws in opportunities we didn’t see coming. Then we are left wondering what to do. In the moments we do take them and ride with them, its starts to feel pretty comfortable and we take them for granted. Responsibilities emerge.  Choices descend. It’s not all a bed of roses anymore. You can either change the world with your new opportunity or let it change you.

The price of progress is perseverance. I don’t want to sound all Jesse Jackson here but it true. The road definitely gets rocky but the journey cannot be thrown off the cliff. 

Gallery in Amsterdam

The jukebox played a love song
But she twisted herself to a lap dance
I gazed into her eyes

Like a vortex inside paradise

She looked away
And arose with contact lenses
A costume for her meekness
Like the coldness in her eyes

Methodologically
She carried on with business
“I’ll give you your money’s worth”
A bargain if I’d ever heard one
To protect her unmasked soul
For it had met its stripper
And he was pouring gold
Down-payment for the keeper?

“Your time is up”
“So soon?”
“You paid for thirty minutes.”
“But I want a lifetime with you”

A shock to the ear
A crease to the cheek
A tear in her eye
She scuttled away

Overexposed and undermined
What her’s is her’s
Can never be mine

24

Maybe one day I'll fall in love with the workaholic lifestyle. The cycle of having no life. Its something thats easy to accept and at the same time quite uncomforting. To look into the crystal ball of fulfillment searching for a golden nugget amd instead find a hazy mist of mundaneness called Mondays.

It begs an endless discourse on self discovery and life's meaning both of which have become quite too tedious for me to engage in. Again I am haunted by my editors words 'then you get to 25 and become depressed. Its not so far away, just less than a year." and here I was thinking I was already making a headstart in quarter life crisis at 24.

The good bit is that I can still create an art form of it with this here me blog.

So I feel I must embark on writing the story so that I can look back at it and enjoy the purity in its events.