Looking in on Life from Behind Bulletproof Glass
I would consider myself to be a tad strange. I'd like to think that most people remember me in one way or another. I also would like to think that I engage in many aspects of life from the corporate luncheons to the back alley casinos. I have without a doubt lived a full life up to this point. I have never really met anyone with as many stories about crazy shit as I have to tell. Therefore when I look at other people's lives it's almost as though I'm looking at them through bulletproof glass. It's like I see them and I can attack them but there was no way on God's green Earth they can attack me back.
I often have imaginary conversations with people I wish were with me at that moment. Most of them are made up phone conversations involving women lusting after me on a late night booty call kind of thing, but once in a while I'll get to having a conversation with a real possible scenario or subject attached to it. These conversations somehow ready me for something more. They prepare for real situations. They prepare me to be some sort of weird James Dean wizard somehow. It's as though I want crazy shit to happen to me, much like a woman would fantasize over a rough lover after years of simp husband love or the way a man would fantasize about space travel or sleeping with Brook Shields. I say "much like this" but my fantasies aren't relly like those at all. I want to be able to dominate situations that involve guns in my back, and 50 thousand dollar deals, or getting people together with the right people. I want to one day run something and be head over heals involved in a life that no one can touch.
What I see from most people, and it's only as of late, is the ability to be brilliant but the inability to use that brilliance. I once said to my Father,
Anyone in the world would become your meaning for life if you spent enough time with them. Anyone in the world would shine like the sun if you got to know them.
We are wonderful beautiful feeling creatures capable of so much horror and so much love. Why do we choose neither path? What about our soul makes us want to be a 0 on the PH balance? Why is it imperative to so many people to only be artistic and animalistic in comfortable surroundings? Why is apathy so easy to attain yet ascension to our dreams is even difficult to fathom?
I read people's blogs and I think, "Wow. Fucking wow! What an amazing person."
If I met most of these people in public I would think, "Wow. Fucking wow! What a waste."
Laugh more. Have stories to tell. Live an interesting life with goals that drape on the human soul like ornaments on a Christmas tree. Have lots of sex. Eat rich foods. Live well.
Let go of inhibition and understand what it's like to be human. Have you ever seen the deranged euphoric faces of people who do things that you consider to be obscene or outrageous? You know, people who go to nudist camps, people who have orgies atop a mountain underneath the moon, people who have rituals involving blood or animal sacrifice. We look upon these rituals with disgust, as they don't fit into our culture. But these people are living stories. They are doing things that cause instant euphoric hedonist gratification that can elevate the soul.
I only write this, and it's sadly in vain, because my words will reach few and move next to none. I write this because I see the shambles of souls throughout the world everyday. I know how smart they are. I know what they are capable of. What separates them from the world that their ancestors used to run naked through? What instinct has died in them? How good would they feel if they found out how to rekindle their human spirit? What would the world look like then?
I had a premise for this post that ideally wanted to say how beautiful everyone seems to be in their blog but how bogus they must be in their real lives. Because I read a lot of blogs and I can't remember saying more than a handful of times, "Wow that is horrible." But I see people every day and I want to absolutely cry for them.
