There is something that seems to cloud my awareness of this and I'm pretty sure it is ego and assumption. There isn't a feeling in those cases I think, "I don't know if I'll ever like this person, they smell, they speak too loud, and they say rather unintelligent things that lack any humor to them." And then we're friends, drinking beers, howling to the moon, and I realized I was soooooo wrong. I don't blame myself for thinking this way, nor do I see it as bad, we all have assumptions, and like assholes, they all stink (not really). What I am trying to really get at here is that assumption, these decisions made by the ego, etcetera are never very strong, you never touch that burning feeling. That feeling, "Yeah, maybe I shouldn't get involved with this or that thing or person because I KNOW, deep down inside of me, that it won't work." And yes, you can be seen as a coward for never trying, but fuck those people who think that, dem yo guts, not theirs. Roll with it homie.
(I didn't mean to make this a self-help article)
(I didn't mean to make this a self-help article)
I often write when there is a surge of overwhelming thought and emotions, I can try to force words on the off-season but they end up as drafts never to be published or things kinda like this, that don't go anywhere. So in that case, I often write when I'm either really sad for some reason or that I'm happy, seeing someone, or something (I see trees from time to time). If my heart is into that something then I'll write, I can't help it, for what I have inside is something too complex too grand for a few shared words, I need to attempt at a novel, get it all out, and document it through words that hover between fiction and experience, but all true. When there aren't words flowing out of me but that something is there, with me, I try hard to write, I try hard to make it work, and ultimately, Guts. Yeah man, guts. The coin has been flipped, it has landed on the palm and flipped to the wrist, and the palm lefts and reveal the coin's facing side, and yet I struggle to create emotion, feeling, and attachment just as one were to force that coin that has already fallen to flip over to the other side. I should start saying goodbye to these somethings by saying, "See you on the flip-side". Those somethings will say back, "What?", "Where are you going?", "Why are you smiling, aren't you sad that things didn't work out." And I'll say, "Nah-nah-nah likeitwaspartofacatchysong, I'll be quuuuuuuuuite fine", as I wave with my hand behind me, with that something behind me, with my past which will forever be dead behind me. A grand Smellyalater and tah-tah. My guts, man, like a man polishing his favorite gun in his man shack late at night while his wife and kids are asleep, I look to my guts and go, "We should had some fun over the years, what would we do without each other?". With me and the married man as the holder, the taker on these adventures, and the gun, the guts, being the trusty device that pulled through, worked every time, youbetyourass, and thus the relationship grew blood, the two being one.
How well do you know your gut? How well can you separate the static of the mind and false assumption from that piercing feeling of, "yaiknow", "iknowalright", and "ihaveneverfeltsososorightaboutit"?
Are you training your gut, working it out, studying it, and seeing how it reacts when life throws some variables?
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