RIGHT NOW IS THE TIME TO WRITE NOW

***Writing from the "Daily Random" series I have been doing. This one dated and timed 2-25-14/2:34 a.m. est



Late at night, only minutes until my head hits the dirty pillow, is probably not the best time to contemplate writing something.




Let alone actually writing something.




It seems wrong
and yet
these previous days
it has been so right.




Write, rather.




I love writing. I live to write. It's the one thing that instantly springs to mind that I know I'm good at. Writing comes as natural to me as breathing might come to others. No matter how it comes, all that matters is that come it does.



I get ideas and I write them. Simple enough.




There are other times when I just feel words building up inside of me so rapidly it is as if they are gaseous and threaten to blow my top unless I turn the nozzle and bleed them accordingly. Sounds painful, no?




... And even still, there have been many times when I just sit down and have absolutely nothing in my head what so ever and wind up writing anyway. Times like late at night when I am counting the minutes until my head hits the dirty pillow.



Times like right now.




In this case, for no other reason than I can, I decide to write. Now.




It's beautiful, this gift of gab.


I am truly in love with writing. I love everything about it. I love the before, during and after. The precious giving of thoughts and words. Each word is like a gift to be given where once-
only moments ago-
there was none to be found.




The brain tingles.



The fingers move.




Before we know it, magic has been made.




The whole concept, as well as the actions of such magic itself, can be comforting on levels that transcend height.



It's like we're building something in the mind and the limits....
well, there are no limits.



Not the brain. Not the skull. Not the fleshy mask that wraps around the brain and skull.




Hell, when one begins to write even the sky stands down its majesty.



Creative thought, and the resulting words that flow, laugh at the sky and then just keep on going.



That is, until we, the writers, decide that it needs to stop.




Like a river that flows at our command.
A rocket ship that penetrates the clouds on its way towards the stars.
Fuck that. We past the stars if we want.
There is nothing stopping us.
Except.... Us.



We're on a journey that lasts as long as we want it to last.



A few seconds and we could be over and out.


We might keep on keeping on until some sort of bleeding has transpired.



Maybe we'll find ourselves paving roads that were never afforded previous existence. Cool.




Going, going, going and.....
Oh, look. We have managed to  piss off the energizer bunny.
Why?
Because we go and we go.




But we're never gone.




The words are our epitaph. The energizer bunny rocks and rolls and poops and fucks until they run out of batteries and then....



they get new batteries and just wind up doing the same shit all over again again.



But writers?




We purge our souls until the very end of days and nights and when we decide to throw in the towel we toss off the light and then.....


we do it all over again again.
But different each time.
It's magic and every trick is unique in its performance.



Such are the politics of writing. The only type of politics that don't give me a headache or the shits.



I love writing. Have I said that already?



I love this journey that my brain and fingers and very soul have embarked on. It's a journey of epic proportions and the most intense beauty made simple all by the clicking of my fingers.



Tap-tap-tap




aaaaaaaand we're off into the wild blue yonder.



When it's time to rest our head, it might seem like the journey comes to an end. But we're only pulling over at the rest stop to take a sabbatical.


We're having a moment.


Because when it's time to get back on that road and cuddle up to the stars all over again we're off and running.




Creativity is like a great beast that rules the roost.



A car on the highway of existence with an endless supply of life's blood in our gas tank.



We ride and we ride some more and even though sometimes it might seem like we're coasting on fumes we just scramble ourselves together and continue to spit words out even if our teeth find themselves becoming clenched shut.



Ultimately inspiration is our fuel and inspiration can be found in every single grain of existence or crevice in the galaxy.



Fumes and muses aside-



this beast runs on legs of steel and knows nothing but that it will survive because indeed this beast called creativity possesses the ultimate will to survive.



A will that is second to none and exists only because of this one simple equation-
Words have been written.



It's bedtime now. But the journey shall resume when my soul powers up its energy and spits forth another clump of words.




Until then, know that while I sleep there are others out there and these others are writing too.


A writers flame is never smoldering. We burn bright and we burn forever because as long as there are in fact others out there writing, we continue to pass the torch.


 

PHILIP SEES MORE HOFFMAN BUT HE'S STILL DEAD

The world is now reeling in shock, anger and frustration over the death of actor Philip Seymour Hoffman. An actor. A man that certainly could have been your friend or family member had gene pools been poured differently. To his immediate circle of family and loved ones he was actually those very things and these people have every right to be shocked, angered or frustrated. All three if they're so inclined. Absolutely. But to the rest of the world? He's an actor. Was an actor, sorry. Incidentally, the words I have used here.... "Shocked, Angered and Frustrated".... these are actual words I have seen used in regards to his death. Words used in regards to his death made by people on Fuckheadbook who didn't know him from a hole in the wall versus a hole in their own head.

Even another person compared the impact of his death to that of losing a family member. As insane as this sounds to me nothing surprises me anymore though. I mean, when Kurt Cobain died the public referred to him as the "new John Lennon." Hell, when John Lennon died they said he was the "new Jesus." The general public is just so sensitive. I guess to them it makes perfect sense to be "Shocked" or "Angered" or "Frustrated" over this sort of shit. Me? I just don't get it.

If these people didn't know Philip Seymour Hoffman personally why would, or should, any of them in fact be "Shocked"... or "Angered".... or even "Frustrated"? It's a legitimate question. Answer me. Somebody. Why? The man was an actor. A great one I will give you, sure. I am sorry that he is dead and my sympathies do indeed go out to his real family and the friends that did really know him. As for everybody else? Jesus people, get a fucking life. Here it was super bowel Sunday and all everybody could talk about was this actor who overdosed on drugs. There are lots of other things going on in the world today too. Everybody hates each other now more than ever before. Oh man, and Kim Kardashian changed her hair color as well. If that is not news worthy I don't know what is. (Actually someone somewhere, and somehow, deemed this newsworthy, which is why I even mentioned it in the first place) But I digress.

Philip Seymour Hoffman was yet another Hollywood star that succumbed to the throes of addiction.

"Anything I could get my hands on. I liked it all." His own words quoted from a 2006 interview.

The number of actors and musicians and writers that have become addicted to drugs or alcohol, and eventually died from such cravings, is beyond comprehension and calculation. In fact, musing on history one could argue that this sort of behavior might go with the territory. Even another argument could state that great performances, masterful writing and some of the best music known to earkind are a direct result of drugs and alcohol. Just for the record, I have a human degree and soul dipped decree in drugs and alcohol and I happen to fully subscribe to this theory. Just sayin'.

While the jocks, cocks and all those graduates from the school of hard knocks drank Budweiser out their foam coolers and yelled at an inanimate object, this being a very large screened television, every time a man in a meat helmet, pointy shoes and a pair of tights either caught a ball or dropped one the artful side of humanity apparently finds itself weeping and punching walls because yet another actor died from too much skag in the bag. Oh, that humanity is such a fickle pickled cunt.

I have known plenty of people that became addicted to drink or drugs, or both. Some paved the road to ruin then ended up smashing into a brick wall they didn't see coming because they were too high to notice it blocking their view of the rest of la la land.

On the other hand I have known many that were lucky enough to swerve, jump the curve, and ultimately wind up in the end zone far away from that wall. Good for them. If I wore a hat I would take it off in salute to such a person well before I would give a squirt of piss over a dead actor, or for that matter some overpayed asshole scrambling for a pig skin prize. Athletes typically tend to be a bunch of drug addicts as well you know.

If someone I actually knew died of a drug overdose, well.... yeah, color me shocked, angered or frusrated with permanent marker. For someone outside of my own immediate circle I might bow my head and give a little shout out in the form of a prayer on a wind aimed directly at their proper loved ones and kin folk. Sure, it's sad and I am human. But I certainly am not going to let someone elses poor decision making and the resulting actions get in my way or ruin my day. I won't be "Shocked" because celebrities, quasi or actual, do this kind of shit all the time. It comes and goes with the territory and when it does it's certainly not any kind of news. To "Anger" myself over something so common place and out of my control seems like an awfully lot of negative energy that is both mis-placed and mis-spent. Truthfully? I'd rather put some energy into something way more positive and self affecting, like sleeping or taking a shit.

This all leads me to "Frustration." An extreme action. Anxiety that tends to be reserved for things that actually make a difference and somehow benefit either ones self or society in the scope of things. How does an actors death even come close qualifying to something of this magnitude? I mean, sure once again.... great actor. Yay. He made lots of cool movies and I am sorry that he won't make any more of them. My deepest sympathies extend their hands and shoulders far and wide to encompass the vast array of people this mans physical existence did in fact touch. But if you think for one micro-second that I am going to give any of this a thought past writing this blog or waste my time and energy on being "Shocked and Angry and Frustrated" over something that happens all the time to people that I don't know and never will know...... well, you are out of your fucking mind.

Millions of people die from addiction to drugs and alcohol every single day. I imagine even somewhere that someone has died both while I write this blog and post it. That's two people that the world won't even know about or care about. What makes celebrities and their inability to cope with getting out of bed every day and keeping their shit in check matter any more than all of the countless nameless and faceless?

Before you curse me with some sort of rare form of crotch rot for being harsh and sounding like an asshole all I am doing is being realistic here by raising a simply query over a legitimate beef. Why does this matter? More specifically, why should I or anyone else who isn't related to this man or that has him on their speed dial list be shocked, angered or frustrated?

Look, don't get me wrong here. I am not by any means saying that it's wrong to be "Shocked" or "Angered" or "Frustrated" over this. We all handle our shit differently. I get that. Just like some we all handle our highs differently. Some float a little, laugh it off, and then go to work the next day. Some eventually figure out this is not the way to go and kick the habit because it is much safer than say, kicking a bucket? Still others get fucked up, then die and achieve some sort of immortality and higher props because..... well, why? What makes them so special? That is all I am asking here, people. Tell me what makes this one death so special that we should all lose our minds and curse the great gummi worm in the sky and kick holes in the dirt with our clod hoppers. Why, I ask? I have no reason or rhyme, only realism. I am a simple man even. I won't even demand that you tell me why I should be shocked, angered AND frustrated. I'll settle for just one. Why should I be any of the three? Operators are standing by. In the meantime, the world continues to turn, people go on hating each other for no apparent reason other than they just feel like it, oh.... but celebrities? They belong on a pedestal or a cross.

Things are rough now. People fucking hate each other, man. It's an "Obamanation." There are two sides of the shit box now and both are scratching lines in the sand that designate where their toes can dip and curl as they spit on each other while standing in place. It's fucked up and I wish that things could be different. I don't see it happening anytime soon though. If it is going to happen at all I don't see how people punching walls or shedding tears over someone they didn't even know and probably wouldn't have even cared about until the news came on and said they were dead is going to do anything to help matters anyway. That's just me though and what do I know? I'm not a celebrity.

Another dead actor just means another day the groundhog saw his shadow and predicted that Winter is going to be colder than it's ever been in the history of Winters. People are still gonna drink cheap beer and call each other names when their team wins or loses. Balls will be dropped and then picked up again. Next week.... or next month..... or maybe even tomorrow and the day after that (celebrity deaths are supposed to come in three's after all) another actor or musician or writer will die. Whether it's a drug overdose or a car wreck or from a life that resembled a car wreck, lots of these people are going to die. If your life is so empty that such a thing can only bring you "Shock, Anger or Frustration" then I highly suggest you do something more productive with your existence. Maybe do like that Kim Kardashian does and go dye your hair. It sure beats dying in a pool of your own waste.