(blur the ups)

My brain is a punk rock broke open by a diamond and left for the kids to scour and relish as remnants of just what the could have been, had the year been right.

Is mine?

The problem with with a morning fraut with inspiration is that the damn thing invariably leads to confusion - muddled as fuck by the breaking of the day, the decline of the evening and the end of the night.

There's just so much to fucking do. there's the appraisal of my love (goddamn, do i dare say my life?). the plans for escape. there's christmas looming overhead about as welcome as a small mexican family defecating on my face.

Not that i particularly loathe the holidays. lord knows i love the giving (honestly). but this year i've lost a certain notion of the festivities. i was planning on the new job. working on ideas (for the first fucking time in so long it kept me with a hard on for so long i should be ashamed...but my regrets come more grandiose than that). imagining the midwest winter, the suburban dream i never had as a city rat from here to the city of angels.

Now the focus is shifted. what would have come from the inspired down into the benevolent (projects to presents - often one and the same) is gone.

I'm just a man and i don't know how to handle that.

Some part still wants to crawl in the hole. but the rest of me (and the wine) wants me to go out and tear down the red paint from the walls of this town and mete it out to the ones i love.

I only wish i knew how.