Monday, April 26, 2010

Ashes of Youth: Chapter 1.2

There were the words that he always used that I distinctly remember as never communicating commands. More like little challenges for us to make it quiet or to behave like a member of a societal entity. We still felt compelled to act as though we were under command. Perhaps tone inflection or voice modulation stirred unconscious visions of retribution. Most of us had parents that inflicted some form of totalitarian punishment. This is the first glimpse of how humans act that I ever experienced with wide-open-sky-brain. It was third grade and I had to cease to be a little kid anymore.

This may not be exactly how it was but it still seemed true ten years later. I retain no horrible lost innocence feelings, just difficult questions I couldn't answer turning into more difficult questions. Are challenges simply commands for the brave? And does that render the brave as mere followers, blazing trails on their deathbeds at another’s behest? If so then the weak in their wake can see this fate, but still take to the road, do they know, do they really know?

I don’t.

Interrupt the past with my present and you will find that I’m just high and it’s a minute ’til midnight. Strangely, my mind ponders the high concentration of dope labs in this area and the possibility of one blowing up near my house. Mostly I’m thinking happy-trappy about the Flaming Lips. So now my adventurous brain is potentially making me a follower. That’s just fine, I have Yoshimi and the pink robots to lead me through the motions and then present the path to break away from those motions.

I killed a man. Not really. I just like to see what people are willing to believe if presented with something hard to believe. It stretches the imagination in a bad way though and I promise to never lie again. Words and their meanings have changed for all of time, but what a lie is to a man who lives on an honest life, that’s what I mean when I say I'll never lie again.

Now that I’ve run through those initial mumblings of the medicinally altered mind I can do what I do best and that is think. I find myself thinking a lot, except when I am talking. The mouth somehow hinders thought despite communicating them. I think especially when walking the halls of my school, probably because all I see are the faces of people who have never tried to understand why they are the way they are. I feel like they have never gotten past certain events in their lives, good or bad. So now they take those unique circumstances out on themselves. I know a little bit about people who have gotten past things in their lives. I had a friend who told me that his male babysitter made him perform fellatio. He is now one the few important people who made me who I am today. So I don’t have any sympathy nor apathy toward people stuck in a moment.

It seems like I stopped believing a long, long time ago. In what I don’t
know, I forgot it back then.

Stoned I just realized why people who chew gum constantly seem so dumb. Even though they aren’t talking they are going through the motions of talking, so they’re getting double the trouble for half the pleasure. So maybe talking is healthy, it’s just the motion that eventually gives your mind lethargic gonorrhea, I have to live with the burn for now but the medicine will kick in as soon as I...

I yawn.

I go to sleep for a full eight hours.

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