 | christmas My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends ..
It gives a lovely light!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Its funny but the longer I'm out here the more I think of home and when I was home all I thought about was getting out here. Not that I want to leave - its just different. Christmas eve was celebrated with my family in the East bay. In Santa Fe it would have been spent wandering down canyon sining christmas carolls, kicking farolitos and sipping whiskey from Georges flask. My family.
Snow is traded for fog and though the whiskey still comes out of a flask it only serves as a reminder and not a source of warmth.
We are the wandering souls looking for warmth in adventure and imortality at the end of a bottle or a pressed pill, a generation of chemically imbalanced digitially edited personas who stumble, stager and leap through our twenties and onward to oblivion.
Like bottle rockets we shoot through the night straight and true till we explode in a brilliant cacophany of sound leaving only smoke and memories as we fade away.
Thats the only way I want to live - screaming through the night. Exciting and remembered. I want to kiss off the mundane and bury the day to day. Freedom is the last power we all have in common. Its not that I want to burn out - its that I want to live. I want stories and scars - I want to get my kicks from the world around me and not burn out but blow up. Trip the trivial and flirt with the incredible.
The idealism of my teens has washed away leaving wrinkled pessism and broken promises.
That doesn't mean I need to stop believing. It doesn't mean I can't try.
It doesn't mean I won't succeed.
In what - well I guess that will take a year to find out. |
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