I
know hearing that might give you the impression that I am some kind of
up-in-the-air-whacked-out-smoked-too-much-weed-drank-too-much-coffee-hippy-free-spirit.
Yes I’ll have to admit that some of that is true, but I have not adventured too
far into the depths of hippy psychological idealisms that I’ve been lost. There
are, however, some bizarre conservative mannerisms that linger around, cleaning
up the roaches and crushed beer cans that litter the insides of my mind. Is
this the grown up part of my mind? Is this the thing that makes my 21-year-old
fragile mind trick itself into thinking that I’m some kind of person ready to
lull my living carcass around in the professional world? Oh shit, I hope not.
The
professional world is around every corner that we look, the newspaper stands,
the television, this MacBook that I am typing on. It’s all business. All of the
consumer products and even the food that we put on the table has a background
of busy bees buzzing around with their necks embraced with a tight white collar
squeezing their pudgy necks until their faces are permanently red. However,
this is all some misconstrued construct that I have created in my head. I am
also losing the point of what I was originally trying to say. Hold on a sex.
Whoops. Hold on a sec. Right.
Secondly, it’s been quoted millions of times
and posted effortlessly on countless facebook profiles that clutter the walls,
but just because we’re growing/grown up it doesn’t mean that we have to
act like some kind of uptight suit monkey that regulates our human race into
it’s own death. Death by economy, death and taxes, death by smartasses, oh the
list will never end. Where is our sense
of imagination? Since everything has already been done and being original is
pretty damn close to redefining and destroying the smart-ass quote, “nothing is
impossible,” or the lovely “never say never.” Suck a dick puke breath.
I
remember the times when I’d sit next to a globe spin it and drag my index
finger along the surface and see where my imagery flight ticket was going to
take me. Or when I’d sing into a chicken drumstick as if it was a microphone, in my boxers at the top of
my lungs pretending that I’m some kind of rock star legend, that was classic
from day one, with a tattoo of a bee on my knee because I was the BEES KNEES.
Shit, don’t lose yourself out there boys and girls. It’s these moments that
keep us alive. So here it is, I present to you a friendly reminder to those who
give a shit, or don’t at all, stay frosty. It’s a big wild beautiful world out
there, but a lot of assholes inhabit it too. Let’s share the love and the
energy, and if you have to, flip a few birds to a few assholes.
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