the beer breakfast calls me
ceberate those expectations!
completed and ruined
the truth therapy
needfully saying it said
so in saying move.
-take that deep breath now
sucking in that cool oxygen
breathing away what’s done.
— I can have my rebelious if really effing retarded beer for breakfast and laugh because it’s doubly silly rebelling with odouls as “beer for breakfast ” as if oooooo, I’m a hells angel on a vespa scooter. I can also admit that I can do everything ….as in feel that way easily and revel in it but easily enough admit i just wont be doing THAT that way way or
it’s a minor misery to be on the lower ebbs of vitality. We all cycle at all times many cycles of life’s offerings – occassionally being pretty much burnt out. I am taking that momentary restful breath to let it go and breath in that peace awaiting the new. it’s an inbetween time feeling even if it’s really actually a new time altogether. it’s going to feel weridly that way, as if juxtaposed as I move forward differently. I needed to change how I got on because it wasn’t and won’t be working…. well, anytime soon. but i’m left feeling it’s the end when it really the beginning and I’m left feeling inbetween when I’m squarely somewhere entirely.
I managed to not quite quit drinking alcoholic beverages, but i have months in now of a complete dryness and weeks of easily reinforced positive changes to what is a better fit social / whatever. I can have all the BEER I seemingly want but obviously not anywhere near all the alcohol that usually is in that beer. I can easily avoid the first drink and usually need to but I don’t have to actually “quit” shh, i mean I don’t have to feel punished and everything taken away i suck at life, wuit – but simply i don’t really want thtat thanks. i.e. I can not always walk 18 miles in all situation/terrain barefoot broke and hungry as in with no preplanning’s luxuries – I am not 20….that slipped away. I’m diabetic for a decade fourty something and there is no extra gas tank of whatever to do it anyways. I can not also so easily recover from surprise change as i’ve long ago listed and habitually folowed the routines to be blanketed and warmed by routines so change is in fact slower and less welcome.
however, I survived my freedom, my own day dream whims, that booger called reality and celebrate with a beer for breakfast signifying fuck you, world, I’m kicking back… shhh, no one notice that detail the beer’s effing fake as i’m a big huge fraud/sissy. next up is to transition some more towards the next adventures.
I haven’t yet lived on my own oh god what friends, jesus i never meet anyone so keep friends for decades or more because cahnge and new blow and disappoint. I haven’tstruggled to make by when there isn’t any easy dime left to solve it. oh god what safety net is there…but the one I’ve built in both confidence and or minor credit sorta cared after….to save me from falling into the end of the world abyss?… having to wait a month or more to get something wanted while saying no I can’t afford that evening or this or that… what else is new i’ve never been rich and I’ve never really starved actually either. or maybe I’ll wuss out and somehow choose knowingly or not exactly the same as i seem to always, not quite what I think i want….as it turns out anyways. of course that means a modest resetting time to gain that means whilst being somewhere temporaily for that purpose.
and no, what a a surprise there isn’t any lottery win of free sex or piles of cash to just appear. I ruined that by aging or stopping buying lottery tickets largely as i was sick of winning a third of my money back suddenly…and agin nothing, I’m far less interested in foolishly burning down the night as in effing boring by comparison because I’m too spent the next day to smile or get anything needful done…which is aging but not oh shit a wrinkle kind. I didn’t get everything I wanted this life which is another well great how much more boring that’d be having no desire whatever to fight for more which is that fire it seems to some degree that attracts anyone..passion. confidence too isn’t the arrogance or foolishness to throw money at to disrespect the meaning or value of such of anything… that attitude is of course, hmph, I own you which to your face is anything but an affirmation. modern slave work my weekend while I mismange the fi9rms money on vacation chasing hookers or chippendals. oh I’m sorry I have to holiday this year because you said you wanted time off, there is a thing called responsibility!….. everyone knows to some degree that attitude that lottery means oodles of money and suspects the truth that by statistic most are broke and bitterly unhappy because of that or by the change of reality versus expectation just a few years later….duh, why? simple, we have to change with piles of money most of our friends or be bled dry by their help..or family…. there is ease sure but money is finite and easily spent….also just saying bitch i own you here’s your fifty cents isn’t exactly how any of us is controlled as paycheck slaves, it’s a fuck ton more subtle and sophisticated how others by positioning get to enforce their wills.
but anyways, yeah, deep breath, the obvious occured i hoped and reality came to the call. hope is like whistling a tune home from a date that did or will end in sex but reality the steaming dog shit of getting caught by your wife having a good night out with a potential threat of a coworker INNOCENTLY or worse having the girlfiriend serve you wife at the denny’s….and not tipping hthe waitress. stories, I’m not and never have been married, I’m told I should stop windging about that and be grateful it’s usually more of a wish fcor cyanide than steaming passions…. except when one comes home drunk not for sex but to still have the hug of someone close tacitly accepting that I took out the tray of triple septic breath snacks and wreak of a good time that I wont be sharing pulling off the swamp foot boot by the door to trip on to befoul the sheets forever with filth and then say I feel sick take care of me. burp enjoy my septic breath let me belch the national anthem with gusto! and ferver and fart the state of the union delighted you gag…ahhh
or in actual reality go back to being semi worried I matter not a stitch to the world …which I do and don’t just like we all do and cringe that it’s forever almost hopeless which it is til I discover magically again it doesn’t matter,
the best way out of a viscous circle is to know it doesn’t matter. the freedom alone in saying it’s probably entirely absolutely true and it still doesn’t matter. ahhh. maybe one more fake beer… I’m trying to avoid being seen today, i’m in my own way.