To leave and lose, Now is the time

Now I retreat
Get lost inside this beat
Accept defeat
There is no feat
There is no leap
I've known defeat
Not absolutely
Completely and truly
Understand it fully
It's over and done


So...


In this last moment
I will enjoy
I want the joy
Just one more time
Before I die
From memory
In this last moment I'm gonna find
What it's like to shine
I want to feel
Your lips on mine


To leave and lose,
Now is the time

Sight

I know
I look happy but it just look it
In my soul all I got is fuck it
I'm way to far
Gone way beyond
Every step and action found as wrong
Keep repeatin' and repeatin'
Stay strong
Stay strong
Stay strong
But there's nothing for
Which I can do, so
I keep myself on an all-time low
All I got is wheezy lungs
A bunch a' words
And a little flow
Can't protect my little bro
Resigned myself to
The fact that I'm another no
Just another no
In a world of yes or no
Where no mean go
And yes, we'll show
Come to your show
Represent
Acord sponsorship
Prove sportsmanship
And maybe, maybe
Just maybe, baby
A little friendship
Just another traveller
On this little ship
That we call life
Just another little shit
In this life where words
Hang but never leave
That pretty pink
Tip of your lip
I want to say
There's no different way
You'll leave me with lies
Mine and yours
I want to say the truth
But it just won't leave me
Understand me, please just see
Truth be this
I love you but all I muster
Is a hiss
It's what I miss
Once was given, ripped away
Held selfishly on, wanted my way
But had to give it away
Someone else need it
More than me

And now I see

return

when there's nothing behind your face
there's nothing new, no race
when you have lost your faith
in the now and the next
there's no amount of text
notes or pictures that'll recreate
the you you were
way way back before
when you hit the shore
like the whale on the beach
the weight of you crushing on you
when you've got no more left to do
go back to your roots
begin devolving
simplify
return to origins
because, shit
that's all you got

Arguing With Myself

"After a while, we all try to rationalize it. To explain it. To tell ourselves that we're stronger, and that it doesn't hurt, that we've been through this shit before and we know how to deal with it. What do we do after? What is the unavoidable dead end that follows? This. Two guys, no girls, crying game music and a shitload of beer."
"You're really pissed today, aren't you?"
"Well, my girl just up and left me for no reason. Ok, so there is a reason. Other dude was pulling major cash from his parents. Still pisses me off."
"Man, at least there's logic behind her thinking"
"What's logic and relationships gotta do with each other. There is no logical reason for which anyone decides to slow down and start dreaming"
"True, but your only other option is getting a girl that won't look at your wallet but'll try and change you and all that."
"Why can't people see each other for who they are, disfunctional, wrong, destructive... perfectly imperfect..."
"Shit, I've no idea. Maybe it's best like that... you know, if we're already fucked up, might as well be fucked up together. Know what I mean?
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. None of that ying-yang shit."
"Exactly!!"
"Still, you're wrong on one thing."
"What's that?"
"You could always get a combo deal..."
"What??"
"You know, one of those girls that'll do you both ways."
"Word" he says with a laugh.

Seriously

Sweltering heat covered everything, everyone like an invisible sheet that's just been pulled out of a vat of boiling water. Every breath pushed the heat further in. No, it wasn't a desert that this tale took place in, it was downtown. Here's me, wearing a baggy t-shirt, basketball shorts and flip-flops, and a squint in my eyes. Somehow I never managed to look as perfect, untouchable as everyone around me. Vanity would be the death of us, so we stick to it like church people do to God. I was waiting on a friend on a Micky D's bench, outside, a cold beer in front of me. Who drinks at McDonald's? Well, I do... it's never to early I guess. But that's the problem isn't it. My guess. I'd stayed outside, away from the cooling shelter of an industrial sized air conditioner so I could enjoy a smoke with my beer. It'd been a long time since I'd stopped feeling guilty about my vices. Now I just kept 'em in check.
It was a sight for the blind to see. Designer labels had found the new gold mine in my opinion. Make body crazy women pay a hundred plus dollars for something that barely covers your ass. Another hundred for the top, just as eye-pleasing. One fifty for sandals, high heels, of course. That's Bucharest London. Round-trip.
The clever pride themselves in their differences compared to others, the wise understand their similarities. Well, me being all judgmental, I had no idea what that made me. Probably everyone else. I wanted to be unique, to be... irreplaceable. So do we all, and in being so we become the same. Read a couple books, pick up a quote of the internet, smoke, drink, get stoned. In the end, we're still the same just with different covers. Still chasing accomplishment, pleasure, or whatever gets us off when we look at ourselves.
In proper fashion, my friend turns up twenty minutes late. Maybe this was my unique quality. Punctuality, because apparently I was the only one person left that still held by this courtesy. Or any for that matter. Call me old school, but even animals have courtesy.
Double Cheeseburger, Maxi Fries, XL Coke and two of those annoyingly hard to open mayo packets. Is it the impending death that appeals to us, or is it the fact that we think we're getting more for our money that attracts us to these places. Double, Maxi, Extra Large.... Shit, soon we'll be getting Double taxes, Maxi penalties, Extra Large anal penetration from the corporates... That's if we can make it past the next Menthol-Blast-Frapp-a-Cappucino. That's why I wanna die hit by a buss, stoned out of my mind. Firstly, it'll feel like a good idea. Second, it's quick. Not so clean, but hell, die the way you lived. A smoldering pile of decaying tissues. And to you health freaks, trust me, when you're dead you'll still end up covered in your veggie burger and tuna fish salad shit.
Fighting his way through his gigantic mass of food, my friend tells me all of his goings on, his family, his work, school, all the little things in life that make it just as Shakespeare said. A play.
Two cigarettes later, this friend of mine manages to finish his meal. I know, there's something wrong when you measure time in cigarettes. The effort itself may have saved him the calorie gain. Looking like we'd been pumping metal for the last two hours, we plowed our way through a couple of backstreets where there was a bit of shade, getting to a favorite watering hole.
“I'm hungry” he says
I'm laughing hard. Really hard.
“Corn sirup, dude.” Here's another gold mine. Sell food that makes you hungry... I've gotta find one of these...
Finally making it to the cover of trees, and with a pint in front of each other, I started feeling better. You don't need to be happy. Just at peace. Sort of. Two pints later...
“So how's your girl?” Gold mine. Suffering. People have it, live with it, fuck with it, love with it. Love it. This was the moot point of our rendezvous after all. I just couldn't stand being the shrink without having some moral support. For yours is the beer, the lager and bitter, forever and ever barmen.
“I don't know what's wrong... She's always pissed off, I think I'm losing her. I feel like I'm making the biggest mistake of my life. I'll always be wondering what if...” I gotta start charging for this shit.
“I envy you, man, I really do...”
“What do you mean? I'm dying here, man”
“Look at you, you're already drunk” I said with a grin splitting my face more efficiently than a machete could have.
“I'm allergic to hops dude, you know that!”
“Nah, you got me all wrong, I'm not making fun...You're cheap to keep.”
“Asshole..”
“That's why you love me man.”
Guys have an invisible force shield around them that's made of all forms of humor. It's great to avoid talking from the heart, speaking your feelings. Chick shit. Takes psycho-actives to roll it down. Fine by me. Two more pints later...
At last, my tongue was dancing in my mouth. Now I could give advice, now I was god of words, or so I thought. Good thing I never got caught on tape after any drinking. I like my little illusion.
“Look, about your girl, there's nothing you can do. She's already made her mind up, and it's final. The only thing you can decide, is how you come out. Head high, or up your ass.”
“Word”
“We all take ourselves way too seriously. You, me, your girl, those orange juice drinking diet-addicts in the corner. We all think we somehow can affect things. I just want to see one result from this thinking. Pride might be good, but it never saved nobody.”

tequila sunrise

perfection. my own measures for my perfect tequila sunrise

Two and a half measures tequila, preferably gold.
Two measures pure orange juice. fresh
One measure Angeli Cherry. for looks and flavor.

repeat process five to ten times to wake up to a perfect tequila sunrise. red eyes, cotton mouth and feeling like you got a good kicking from the police (they're scientists my friend, artists).

other possible side effects:
! - slight nausea during or after drinking
! - waking up next to jabba the hutt
! - waking up next to jabba the hutt in a jailcell
! - finding yourself stricken with blind love
! - waking up with your best clothes turned to shit

enjoy, and remember, there can never be not enough beautiful women, just not enough drink.

For yours is the bitter, beer and the lager
For ever and ever, barmen!

now

A dull grey filled my view. Towering buildings, collosi, concrete giants left over from my parents' time. The sky the same color, and I was out walking, for some reason or another. Weather, views, chills like that always make a man question himself. It's like an innate necesity, that when everyone's hiding inside their coats man, or maybe me, should just do the same. In our minds. I like the cold, there's something different, misterious almost about people hiding behind so many layers of clothes. Or maybe simply true... Who knows?

My feet were taking their own path, old haunts, childhood memories. There was the first place i ever stepped on stage as, a kids' theatre. So I'd tried acting and it didn't work out. Some people try coke, but they don't make it their life. I guess that's what experience is...mistakes. Wrong steps, twisted ankles, smacked heads on sideview mirrors. I guess you gotta get knocked out before you learn to do it yourself. The cold was starting to pinch the back of neck and my ass, and, auto-pilot style i tucked myself in a little more to my coat. Something was jabbing at my side, at first i thought it was a stich, then i knew what it was... the cause of the stich. Marlboro's. 100's, long. Fuck it i thought reaching in to my breast pocket.

"No light? Shit.."

" 'Scuze me, you got a..."
" Sorry, do you have a light?"
People were just walking right past. Fear of diseases was a bitch in this city, the once Little Paris... Now a hellhole for the free filled with the fears of the paranoid.

" Got a light?"
Interesting times make for interesting bedfellows, and high prices make for shitty people. It's like a match will put them back forever...then again in this wind, it'd take more than one.

"Got a smoke?"
"Huh? Oh, sure but i ain't got no light"
This chick looked like normaly she'd never throw me a second look, but then again addiction is a great way to meet people, whichever way you look at it. Want alcoholics? Hit up AA. Want tweekers? Hit up a trucker bar. Want sex addicts? Well, you get the picture. She rolled her eyes at the marlboro, but took it anyway. VSB. Virginia Slims Bitch... Can't even accept that they're killing themselves. Just cause it's thin and smells like roses or chocolate or italian bodybuilder sweat and comes in a pink pack don't change the fact it's tobbaco. I had this conformist idiot written down to a T.
"No sweat" she says, pulling out a lighter. Well, it's wasn't pink. I know, I'm shallow and all that... We're all so vain, even if we don't have the balls to admit it.

"Thanks"
"Thank you" she says back.
"Hey, you know what the time is by any chance?" Here I am, judging her - hell, she's doing the same though - but still trying to get some action...

Check this though, this chick, this magazine cover robot shrugs at me, looking in the distance and says

"It's now..."