The old white man warns of monsoonal weather just beyond Flagstaff, Arizona. He points to a grouping of pure white puffy clouds and explains how their language speaks of trouble. “Unless, of course, you want to get wet”, he proclaims. I respect his advice, but the words warning of wetness reminds me of my lover back home in California. I miss her. I continue.
I lay on my air mattress. Deflated.
Does honesty exist in the world? More specifically does honesty exist between a man and a woman beyond anyone’s first attempt at truthfulness? You give me jeers and side-eyes. You’ve inspired me to write. A compliment that more than likely falls dead on the ears of a woman deafened by today’s male standard. Waste of word? Male….”standard”? The ordinary must exist….But I am beyond the ordinary and would prefer not to be judged against it. Open your eyes. I’m not spinning webs. I’m not calling out for cats. Listen to the words that speak truth. A word ought not be wasted according to my poetic influence, an influence still. I have no tricks, just a trade, and a keen eye for killers and those that fall prey. Let’s put our fingers into each other’s assholes and ask how it went.
Color between the lines. My LA. My #losangeles #sunset
I’m at a point where I’m beginning to ask myself what it is I’d like to do with the rest of my life. I have always had this unavoidable desire to pick my things up, leave what I think I know as truth, and begin anew with a fresh perspective. Only recently have I attempted the college scene and I have found it to be quite refreshing. Never before have I experienced such as sense of power. Never before have I had so much control of my mind and my responsibility to consume as much knowledge as possible. I have had doubts in the past regarding how well I might do. Those feelings of doubt shattered by an overwhelming desire to succeed, and then doing so. Now the the initial charge of college courses its way through my consciousness. I feel like I’m ready for something way beyond my comfort zone. The inexorable hunger to get a fresh perspective on life, education, social processes haunts me.
"What the fuck is a hash tag?"
#old-school gentleman — RebuildingModernMan
(Source: sex-satanic, via mallratgossip)
BMW shot in Paris, France
A motorcycle functions entirely in accordance with the laws of reason, and a study of the art of motorcycle maintenance is really a miniature study of the art of rationality itself. ~Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance