First off; I find that life is better when I say/think/dream things that feels good coming off the lips. I also am aware of the fact that nobody gives a fuck about hearing “the message” unless they are damn well ready or you phrase it in a way that they can hear it. There is a natural geometry to our cockiness as a species and I find that our talent for phrasing (be it pig latin or quantum physics) and the idea that you, me, and everybody we don’t know will benefit from the way we alone are aware that the end is near, the world is screwed, we have our finger on the absolute center of the universe, and where the rest of the j-holes failed in the pursuit – we are going to hit up raging waters with Sisyphus, pick up a case of Tecate, then take a pleasure cruise down the L.A. river and solve it; eg: The Riddle of Human Existence.
Ah, yes. Bliss.
What, you don’t want to go to raging waters with Sisyphus, pick up a case of Tecate, then take a pleasure cruise down the L.A. River? Weirdo. How about we tag on “Make some delicious white cheddar grill cheese sandwiches with smoked apple wood bacon and a nice thin sheen of LSD?”
No? Yes? Have you seen my horse bite?
No? Yes? Have you heard this one before?
They say that the secret to becoming a good butcher is not only being able to know what to divvy up for their customers (who go home to eat and have fun eating fish tacos with Sisyphus with a glass of Tecate, and some aloe vera on their skin because they have a substantial sunburn due to the fact that some j-hole suggested they eat grilled cheese sandwiches laced with LSD while floating down the L.A. River) . . . it’s not only being able to know what to divvy up for their customers but the skill with which they do it.
I say that it’s a wonder how anybody gets through this life without becoming a mean son of a bitch and, for some of us things make us really sleepy from time to time and want to take “vacations”. These vacations take many forms but they usually pertain to the soul and where we go with that is what I like to call “personality”.
I for one have a lot of personality. Are you familiar with the slow roast?
So, keeping in mind “personality” and what not let’s get back to the butcher business – and the skill with which they do it: A good butcher not only knows what to cut but how and where to cut – keeping in mind the longevity of his instrument; his knife. Who wants to sharpen their shit all the time, right? Personally, after a long days work – I just want to get home and anything I can do to cut out side work while on the job – I’m all for. Butcher’s do this by cutting in between the joints and soft spots to keep their knife sharp longer instead of hacking through the slab of something laying on the block like their trying to stamp the black out of plague for love of phonics.
They call this The Way of the Butcher. I found this analogy comforting when I heard it. And it has complimented the way I run beautifully. It makes for smiles and sweet living for the rest of the bullshit of ache, pain, and rot is implied.
For me I didn't see the point in trying to reach the unreachable and I feel we, as a species are ridiculous gas bags, brilliant and large, and the worst thing about stuff like cocaine is people keep repeating their god damn selves again, saying the same thing to each other like its the freaking crown of the atom bomb popping outta einsein's pussy, and i found that keeping in mind that its going to be a long haul if i'm going to make it so i better pick and choose my battles and who invest my heart if i really believe i deserve it and worthy of reach.
(i'm not saying that i've been hoarking up lines, or this is about doing cocaine and what not, what i'm saying is that sometimes when out there in the wild with the people i feel like everybody's on cocaine and it kind of sort of drives me crazy)
so i hack. so i strike. with precision. i played. and the way of the butcher blessed me.
This past birthday a friend of mine made it possible for me to attend the Metalocalypse Smashing Party (a very spirited show on adult swim with a lot of personality) and I had at a computer monitor with a morning star. I don’t have any images or video from that experience but its safe to say that it was feisty.
I am not a survivor. I’ll feisty their god damn face if anybody tries to tag me.
(where am i. what happened?)
I guess what I’m saying is that I’m hungry right now and I lost track of what I wanted to say when I began this. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m happy. I’ve always been happy. And part of that has been knowing that I have a lot of personality. So, I’ve picked and chosen my battles, the relationships in my life (yes – I said that), and the desire to speak, explain myself, understand or be misunderstood, dance around like a monkey, take risks, drink water, eat taco bell, walk around bewildered and aghast, find the words, reconcile, create warmth, intimacy and love.
I guess what I’m saying is that it has never been about slaughter. It has been about longevity and sustenance. And I think it important to state it plainly what this butcher business is and say that I am pretty much the happiest motherfucker you’ll ever meet with a lot of personality and that I’m here for you with a lot of personality and if you get sleepy that’s okay because that goes along with personality and that every need you have will be met, every crazy god damn thought in your head will be cherished, and all is well in the world because there is no approach to passion. There is no victory.
And I’m there. Right there. It is and always has been about love. Like a speeding ticket. And a sharpie. And some dank shrink in San Marino. And the Wailing Wall. And Nachos.
Let me spice the message with a phrase to facilitate a soft exit transparently.
Home.
