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Michael considered fate at 18:08   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment

Am usually not so afraid of age. At least not in the opposite direction - down, not up. The young-uns don't scare Buddy and he tends to feel some sort of serenity around them, as goofed as they can sometimes be, because;

honestly

;Buddy is in love with innocence.. Maybe because it's lost for him and he is forever searching for it ever again searching for his lost childhood? Still feel young. Still feel independant and free and loved and cool and with lots of friends. Still feel varied and interested and excitable. Still feel like Buddy felt in 4th grade - shy, hopeful, excited, fun, nervous, scared, powerful.

So somehow it comes across terribly strange to the budster that the simple age of 24 - really a mere 1.3 years difference from him - seems so far far away.. seems scary, really, in this lost sense like being in the dark forest and having that bloody muscle inside pump pump pump a little faster as your mind puts together the puzzle pieces one by one by:

You're lost. Buddy is lost.

Been lost for close to a year now. Been looking in all the hidden corners and far off places thinking maybe would find an alice, a wonderland, a tiny door to the outside - to the real reality.. at least the one Buddy imagines to be real.

It's not. None of it.

But she is 24 and it petrifies me. Mostly, probably, because Buddy has no control. Like trying to hold on to a very large and strong fish - not so hard due to the size as it is due to the slippery slimy skin squirming through your fingers.

Hard to grasp.

Hard to grasp the space she's come from. Can see it, like a book, written down in words on paper. Can understand it as a concept, a theory, an idea taught in a college lecture somewhere. Can almost almost reach out and touch it - but can never go in.

Buddy is scared of dark places like that.

Can't come to grips probably all because she can't come to grips, or doesn't seem to. Like anti who hates his father only she hasn't figured out who she hates yet and it's keeping the wound raw..

as if hatred was a bandaid that seals up the cuts you bleed through.

Never liked bandaids even as a kid and usually just sucked and sucked till the blood stopped coming and called it good.. Lost out on the war of hate, just got irritated and annoyed instead. Real hate is like currency. Annoyance is like monopoly money -

a cheap imitation of the real thing.

So Buddy can go out and find the cheap imitations - there are plenty out there.. A few girls he knows from way back when, the kind that were always out on the peripheral and they've been waiting to come back into the picture. Can see what happens with that yet he'll only realize that monopoly, while fun, holds not a candle in the wind to the real firestorm: Life and the real identity it creates is where the action is at. Life is the end game. Life - the one where the emotions are uncontrollable truths, not constructed lies. Life - where you weep to know the world. Life -

the one that sucks it all out of you.

Am turning in my grave as we speak as if on a fire spit, dripping grease and smiling happily with apple-in-gapping-mouth, and with each turn I am more ready to go to the dinner table, one more year older, one step more, one epiphany closer to the end of the game, the end of the end game where the end, you realize..

It's only the beginning.

It's not whether you win or lose.

Fuck you Buddy wants to win so badly I'd do some awful things for it, right now.

Luckily the end is not right around the corner so Buddy has a few ephipanies waiting for me yet. Buddy is prepared for the long road ahead. Buddy has some incredible staying power. Buddy is a stubborn ass motherfucker and doesn't plan on giving up till it's time to give up and then even then he won't give up. Not buddy.. Oh no.

He'll just keep on.

Yes I will.