Gab, Gossip, and Blather: Just the same 'ol patter!
I cannot even begin to express the disdain I hold for rumors. That sick feeling when you stack hope, most often knowingly against yourself and the odds, and only to be let down by something as small and ridiculous as a rumor. It takes the steam out of your stride and it's like a vicious eyesore; like a cigarette burn in the middle of a master painting: so small and yet SO unavoidable.
God damn it! I feel like I got 10 feet out of the prison cell where I had just been given a reprieve form a life sentence only to be met with a bat to the face. I can't help but think to myself that it isn't even half as bad as where I was before but the let down is just more immense than what I prefer to put up with. Then I think to myself; "This is life you jackass! It's not supposed to be comfortable. If things ran THAT smooth it would be cause for GREAT concern" Yet it's the foolishness of all this that causes most of the grief. How I let something this foolish creep up and mug me!
Ain't a hard time invented that I cannot handle; its just I don't want to deal with the shattered walls and the kick in the balls if I don't have too. It just leaves a resin on my attitude that shows through my clothes. I wear it like a stink and I KNOW other people can smell it on me; so I tend to retreat to solitude but I know for my own good I should take solace in friends and cohorts. But for now I think the only band of brothers I feel comfortable around are vices. I keep getting a wink and a hand waving me on from the booze, cigarettes, and old records on the shelf. Maybe I'll take 'em down for a bit and go from there. I'm rambling.
("Fuck it; you're on a roll Wyatt! Go for the gold!")
Jesus, you know how certain songs ring more true in certain periods/situations of your life? Man, I feel this sting and itch from 'Suedehead' right now
So for now I guess I'll just balance life's riches against the ditches and the flat gray years in-between
- Peace and Sabotage
Wyatt
I cannot even begin to express the disdain I hold for rumors. That sick feeling when you stack hope, most often knowingly against yourself and the odds, and only to be let down by something as small and ridiculous as a rumor. It takes the steam out of your stride and it's like a vicious eyesore; like a cigarette burn in the middle of a master painting: so small and yet SO unavoidable.
God damn it! I feel like I got 10 feet out of the prison cell where I had just been given a reprieve form a life sentence only to be met with a bat to the face. I can't help but think to myself that it isn't even half as bad as where I was before but the let down is just more immense than what I prefer to put up with. Then I think to myself; "This is life you jackass! It's not supposed to be comfortable. If things ran THAT smooth it would be cause for GREAT concern" Yet it's the foolishness of all this that causes most of the grief. How I let something this foolish creep up and mug me!
Ain't a hard time invented that I cannot handle; its just I don't want to deal with the shattered walls and the kick in the balls if I don't have too. It just leaves a resin on my attitude that shows through my clothes. I wear it like a stink and I KNOW other people can smell it on me; so I tend to retreat to solitude but I know for my own good I should take solace in friends and cohorts. But for now I think the only band of brothers I feel comfortable around are vices. I keep getting a wink and a hand waving me on from the booze, cigarettes, and old records on the shelf. Maybe I'll take 'em down for a bit and go from there. I'm rambling.
("Fuck it; you're on a roll Wyatt! Go for the gold!")
Jesus, you know how certain songs ring more true in certain periods/situations of your life? Man, I feel this sting and itch from 'Suedehead' right now
So for now I guess I'll just balance life's riches against the ditches and the flat gray years in-between
- Peace and Sabotage
Wyatt