the perplexities of the human condition...

what benefit arises from owning a rooster when not living in an agricultural community?

waking up is hard to do...

these are the nights i question. there must be some force looming inside my skull that keeps me awake. it wants something, but it's pride is far too strong to simply tell anyone. it's a puzzle.

we love mysteries.

but then you have to wonder... it's only these nights i find myself drawn so strongly to the words. they drag my hands to the keyboard, my body sits and waits for them to finish their task. that's the way it is. that's the way it's been.

i'm a creature more comfortable within the cover of night. the daylight irks me in a way that i can't fully explain. since i can remember it's been this way, and i've thrived during the hours most people are fast asleep. my body doesn't truthfully begin working properly until the sun has gone down. my thoughts become more precise, i'm able to articulate in a more succinct manner. it feels as if the darkness lets loose some bonds within me and once the sun has fallen behind the horizon completely i can begin.

the sleepers out there, they'd never understand.
i don't think.

for a bit, i envied the people that sleep well. i thought, maybe i'm missing something. it wasn't until recently i came to the realization, it's all of you missing something... but if you knew that, it wouldn't be quite as wonderful. the darkness would be ruined. it's beauty coming from it's absent nature. that is, the absence of life, the absence of futile chaos. don't get me wrong, i'm a fan of random chaos. it's how this world works. but at times, i need nothing more than absolutely nothing. literally. while you all slumber away, the streets are barren, neighborhoods simply sketches of what humanity exists within (if any). buildings shut tightly, parking lots vacated. have you ever been in the center of an enormous parking lot alone? one so large you can't see anything but emptiness to fill? it's a strange and wonderful experience, feeling like the only living creature on the planet.

the darkness is empty. it is void.
as i said; beautiful.

all this simplicity leaves room to breath calmly. it leaves room for the strange and odd, those things too terrified to come out in daylight. it leaves room, and that's enough.

a cleansing bred of needle and ink...

these are strange times filled with wicked deeds done by men and women of all shape and creed. we've all been dragged into this state of existence, forced to survive by whatever means necessary. one can quite literally feel the weight of it all upon stepping outside. even the weather pushes down on your shoulders after you leave the safety of your home. maybe there isn't any safe zone anymore, just less mind-numbingly disastrous on a variant scale of Armageddon. were there ever safe zones?

and yet, i find myself feeling resolute. championed. madness, you'll say. surely a just assumption, considering the reality of the staggering nation. but i'm breaking out of old skin here (literally), shedding the past and staring at the future's throat, hoping soon enough the warm taste of iron will coat my mouth. then again, this plan is only surface.

perhaps it's all my perspective. for the past few weeks i've been working on character biographies and general storyline for a video game based around the criminal element. junkies, thieves, murderers, they lurk around every corner. and i created every single one of them. these people watch me from the inside, whispering my horrible secrets to me, laughing sharply from the dark. each one of them steals a small part of me, absorbing every abstract particle and manipulating it to suit their personal desires. nothing else will ever be so clear. there are some days i wish to simply disappear, observing these creatures in a chaotic environment they have no understanding of. i become an omnipotent mist, my only intention being study. take away the brain and the body just fades into nothing.

appropriate.

is the world really coming to an end before my eyes? perhaps it's all my perspective.

and yet again, here i am. championed and no fucking apologies. the insomniatic nights are gone for now, i've had my release. since thursday i have glided through days effortlessly. frozen florida winds tearing through the streets haven't even hindered my mood, though they effect my chemistry - a few extra strength excedrin have been companion enough to stave off the back pangs.

lo and behold, jolly! triumph! we're doing fine, quite literally.

after receiving my needle and ink therapy early thursday afternoon there are few worries that cross my path. even after, sitting out front of trinity tattoo in the cold breeze, i could feel the warmth from my knee spreading across my consciousness. i could feel that cleansing wash of needle and ink, and i calmed.

so where's the lesson you ask?
the lesson is a map.
the map is me.
just, do me a favor... don't stare awkwardly. you can ask what it is.
i won't kill you.
not for that.

a brave new world, precisely like the last...

this post is a test, of sorts. all sorts, really. an operational test, word-usage test, typing test, to name the first few.
everything is in tact so far, few minor snags along the way. although, the title did stump me for a while. until i landed squarely on this, "five dead zebra." how do we like it? seemed appropriate to me somehow, and maybe to you, which is unlikely. but i think with time you'll see that it makes sense. especially in regards to this chaos.

this first night i can't truly think of anything to write. there's too much clawing to get outside of my head again. maybe i can just sum up the past for now, the past until now. i found this writing on my computer that should do it, at least it will attempt to. it's nothing fancy, just this:

"We are a generation of children left to our own devices in a world supposedly over flowing with possibilities for the future. The Baby Boomers presented us the entire world on a golden platter saying, “Anything you see, you can have, or be.” So we reached our hands out, extending our fingers towards those few morsels we each felt a strange draw to, and for a while the future was a brilliant light in a one-way tunnel that we knew we’d eventually reach. A few years later their promises fell through and the tunnel collapsed in, ultimately stranding us in our belief that the world had no meaning. Suddenly our direction changed and instead of heading straight for the light at the end of that tunnel, we decided to stay in the darkness and absorb all that it had to offer us. Trapped in our darkness, we found tranquility.

Now our existence is simple. Our reasons are simple and knowing there is no truer moment than the one at hand means absolutely nothing can stop us. We were driven by desperation to find something better than being the lost generation; a twenty-year time span filled with degenerates and guinea pigs, hybrids of the era. We party hard, we break our ribs and wrists in mosh pits, we cover our skin in tattoos. We’ve lost our hope and no longer have any reason to wish for hope. Still, we stand at the brink of this world staring into the void, refusing to turn away out of simple stubbornness.

For us the American Dream is dead; a long extinct ideal the prehistoric nation clings to for posterity sake. During our childhood it was dangled in front of our faces and touted as fact. Yet we were witness to the dreams of the Baby Boomers crumbling to dust around them, trapping them in the ruins of a fantasy gone awry. The outcome: Millions of dysfunctional-pill-popping families huddled around reruns of American Idol searching for warmth and that feeling of Blissful American Connectivity. That feeling may simply not exist any longer. These Baby Boomers are our parents, our grandparents, our aunts and uncles. And for years we’ve watched them feed off one another, intent on surviving, whatever the cost – foe, friend, or family. The shattered reality of their lives has warped the next generation, my generation. It's warped the world we live in, tragically creating mass quantities of numb and careless monsters roaming the nation pretending to be human. The American Dream destroyed the lives of our parents and role models with false promises spat at them with propagandic vigor. What could possibly convince us to hand our lives over in the same misguided way as those before us? Not a god-damn thing. Every day we watch the collapse of civilization approach, in these fatal Oil-War-Years, and nothing else feels quite as good as telling the entire world to go fuck itself."

and i suppose that, is that.





they lied when they said the good die young.