So much beauty in dirt
I'm in love with you, Isaac.
You're a pretentious asshole with a lisp, but somehow-- through that haze of LSD and alcohol-- you've managed to see what I've been trying to tell everyone, all along.
Woman says, "Let's take a drive down south." Roll down the windows and open our mouths, taste where we are and play the music loud... Stop the car, lay on the grass, the planets spin and we watch space pass. Walk a direction, see where we get. I never knew nothin,' so there's nothin' to forget... Get real drunk and ride our bikes. There's so much beauty it could make you cry...
I remember saying once that, while some people get smiled upon by Fate, I get smirked upon. It's true; I treat my life with sarcasm, and in return, Fate is a sarcastic bitch. You just have to know how to react. You just have to turn bad luck into a bad joke. And my friends all know that I'm great at telling bad jokes.
Come on, guys, you know I don't believe in Fate or Destiny or Serendipity. It was an accident of whim that I ended up here in New York, but chances are I would have come here eventually, anyway. I was headed out of California for a long time, anywhere-bound. It seems like I'm always headed out of wherever it is that I am. It's not that I'm never content... no, maybe that's exactly what it is. The difference is, though, that if others aren't content with their lives, they complain about it. I still complain, but then I hop on the next flight and get the hell out of dodge. People have said that I might learn contentment if I stuck around long enough, but blindly falling into a routine until I'm too deep to escape does not sound like contentment to me. And it sounds even less like happiness. I've also been told that I am simply trying to avoid my life; I keep my life in a constant state of impermanence, keeping all my friends at arm's length and leaving when I decide I've stayed for long enough. But this doesn't sound to me like avoiding my life; it sounds to me like I'm doing all that I can to live my life while I still have a life to live.
I may be addicted to adventure, I may constantly crave change, but at least I'm accomplishing my dreams-- and loving every minute of it. Yes, I'm even loving the minutes that I'm hating. Those hours spent in painful boredom, or the times when my heart is immersed in sorrow, or when I am so confused that I cannot even articulate effectively. I love my life, even then-- quite possibly more than ever before. As long as you live each moment for what that moment is, your life will never be a waste of time. Even if you don't write the great American novel, or make a painting good enough to be on display at the Met, or save the environment. Even if you can't change the world. It's worth it, as long as you believe that it is.
In the darkness of the most lonely night, all you have to do is remember that somewhere, in this same world, the sun is rising.
Maybe I'm just chasing sunrises.
You're a pretentious asshole with a lisp, but somehow-- through that haze of LSD and alcohol-- you've managed to see what I've been trying to tell everyone, all along.
Woman says, "Let's take a drive down south." Roll down the windows and open our mouths, taste where we are and play the music loud... Stop the car, lay on the grass, the planets spin and we watch space pass. Walk a direction, see where we get. I never knew nothin,' so there's nothin' to forget... Get real drunk and ride our bikes. There's so much beauty it could make you cry...
I remember saying once that, while some people get smiled upon by Fate, I get smirked upon. It's true; I treat my life with sarcasm, and in return, Fate is a sarcastic bitch. You just have to know how to react. You just have to turn bad luck into a bad joke. And my friends all know that I'm great at telling bad jokes.
Come on, guys, you know I don't believe in Fate or Destiny or Serendipity. It was an accident of whim that I ended up here in New York, but chances are I would have come here eventually, anyway. I was headed out of California for a long time, anywhere-bound. It seems like I'm always headed out of wherever it is that I am. It's not that I'm never content... no, maybe that's exactly what it is. The difference is, though, that if others aren't content with their lives, they complain about it. I still complain, but then I hop on the next flight and get the hell out of dodge. People have said that I might learn contentment if I stuck around long enough, but blindly falling into a routine until I'm too deep to escape does not sound like contentment to me. And it sounds even less like happiness. I've also been told that I am simply trying to avoid my life; I keep my life in a constant state of impermanence, keeping all my friends at arm's length and leaving when I decide I've stayed for long enough. But this doesn't sound to me like avoiding my life; it sounds to me like I'm doing all that I can to live my life while I still have a life to live.
I may be addicted to adventure, I may constantly crave change, but at least I'm accomplishing my dreams-- and loving every minute of it. Yes, I'm even loving the minutes that I'm hating. Those hours spent in painful boredom, or the times when my heart is immersed in sorrow, or when I am so confused that I cannot even articulate effectively. I love my life, even then-- quite possibly more than ever before. As long as you live each moment for what that moment is, your life will never be a waste of time. Even if you don't write the great American novel, or make a painting good enough to be on display at the Met, or save the environment. Even if you can't change the world. It's worth it, as long as you believe that it is.
In the darkness of the most lonely night, all you have to do is remember that somewhere, in this same world, the sun is rising.
Maybe I'm just chasing sunrises.
posted by Sweet Guenivere | 7:25 PM
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