Confessions of a Fuck Up Artist
Dec. 21st, 2014 02:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonStep out of the lose loop, the voice tells me, get back up off your back and make a fool of yourself in ways no wise man has ever seen before. So down to Vampire Country I rumble, little boy sullen and astronaut introspective, ready for trouble should anyone notice I've snuck myself a seat at the grown-ups table.
By the tenth drink I really should stop but I'm a big boy, thick - all fat, fur, and muscle - and what shit-faces another man provides but a congenial mask for your correspondent.
Am I lying? Is it all in my head? That moment between us? Do I remember it wrong when I made you laugh, sigh and/or think? Do I remember it wrong that for a second when we spoke there was not a truer word this universe heard that moment?
Of course I do, I live half in my head and half amongst you, but the horizon where those two places meet host such a lovely dusk that in the right light it resembles a dawn to a adventure we've just begun.
As if we were young again, novice magicians stuttering to gods faking magnificent their deaths or as warriors whose swords hungered for all the wrong fights.
Step away, my voice reminds me that is counted weakest amongst this crowd until it has earned true its placed amongst its chorus. One more for the road then, one more the ride, one more for all those I'm sorry I spoke too candidly too and one more for all who will forget I was ever there.
Oh, my invisible audience, in a better world I would not write after drinking but to be terribly, terribly honest with you, I never have more fun writing than when I stagger back from marching briefly amongst your ranks to deliver my dispatch true.
10-4, over and out.
By the tenth drink I really should stop but I'm a big boy, thick - all fat, fur, and muscle - and what shit-faces another man provides but a congenial mask for your correspondent.
Am I lying? Is it all in my head? That moment between us? Do I remember it wrong when I made you laugh, sigh and/or think? Do I remember it wrong that for a second when we spoke there was not a truer word this universe heard that moment?
Of course I do, I live half in my head and half amongst you, but the horizon where those two places meet host such a lovely dusk that in the right light it resembles a dawn to a adventure we've just begun.
As if we were young again, novice magicians stuttering to gods faking magnificent their deaths or as warriors whose swords hungered for all the wrong fights.
Step away, my voice reminds me that is counted weakest amongst this crowd until it has earned true its placed amongst its chorus. One more for the road then, one more the ride, one more for all those I'm sorry I spoke too candidly too and one more for all who will forget I was ever there.
Oh, my invisible audience, in a better world I would not write after drinking but to be terribly, terribly honest with you, I never have more fun writing than when I stagger back from marching briefly amongst your ranks to deliver my dispatch true.
10-4, over and out.