Sometimes Love Lasts But It Isn’t Enough

I told the Cancer to come out and fight me. I said it in a whisper so that I wouldn’t scare anyone but I meant it.

Those of a superstitious nature would suggest it is dangerous to say such things and suggest I ought to be more cautious about dancing where the devil can see me.

They said not to let my anger lead me to dangerous places and I kept going because I give that sort of superstition no credence.

And because it is what I was shown and how I was instructed–not to mention I have been known to dance in the fire.

Hell, I have been known to declare myself the baddest motherfucker in the valley and walked through dark places I never expected to visit.

If you are reading these words you might ask if I am still here or if I have gone to wherever it is we go when we leave this particular plane.

Well, the baddest motherfucker in the valley isn’t ready to leave yet because I have too much to do and because fate won’t let me leave because it is not done with me either.

That is assuming you are reading this in 2018 and not 2118 because then all bets are off.

Sometimes Love Lasts But It Isn’t Enough

There is one beer left in my fridge plus the bottles of Scotch, Tequila and Vodka in the cabinet.

Not sure that any of that matters or is particularly relevant but I have a weekend ritual in which I write and take a snort of the drink.

It is rarely much of a snort but the ritual of holding the bottle and or glass sometimes helps the words flow more freely.

Mostly that is focused upon the other places I write but sometimes there is an influence here too.

Lately I have been looking back at the places I started and wondering what to do with them. There is a certain fondness for the people and personas along with the words but there are questions.

The love I feel for there lasts and probably always will, but it isn’t enough to keep me around as it once did.

Sometimes I think about closing up shop because the people who most appreciated my presence there don’t seem to care much anymore.

And the longer I am here the more expansive I become. It is a good thing, I am more me than ever before and growing less unfiltered by the day.

Sometimes I think it leads to my speaking with the sort of reckless abandon I haven’t really used here and sometimes I don’t.

Mostly because the anger about some things lies just beneath the surface and if I am to let it go I prefer to do so in a way that cannot be misinterpreted or mischaracterized.

I Know Things

If I believe my gut to be accurate certain things are going to come and there will be big changes because of them.

The funny thing about that is how ridiculous that sounds to me because the rational part of me states I ought to act upon actions and things that can be tasted, felt and seen.

Gut feelings can be nothing more than the rumble you feel after consuming too much food/drink or partaking of something foul.


I told the cancer I would take it all on, pancreas, lymph nodes and liver–said it could go recruit friends and family to join the fray.

Said to join me in a locked room and promised only one of us would walk out but that coward didn’t have the balls to do so.

Funny thing is if it would have come at me a few months ago when I was feeling worn out and beaten down it might have had a shot.

But today, not so much.

I am not going to lie and say I am not angry about a bunch of stuff because I am. There is a bit of fury and rage flowing inside.

But that is controlled and given how proud I am of certain accomplishments and the feeling of satisfaction I have with having overcome a few things I am feeling pretty fine.

Feeling fired up and feeling strong.

Given the choice I’d like to be Ferdinand the bull and just chill out in a field, but if I had to give my horns and trample–we do what is required.

“The cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Are You Courageous Enough?

Lately I look around and wonder how many of us are courageous to lead the lives we want to live.

How many of us are willing to do more than talk about what we want. How many of us are willing to take the chance to fail and fall.

The thing about talking about courage is it is easy to misunderstand it to mean going after some big dream, like trying to make a pro sports team or get a role as an actor in a major motion picture.

But it doesn’t have to be anything so grand, it just has to be going after your passion.

Certainly that could be trying to make the Dodgers or Lakers but I see it differently now. Maybe it is age and experience or maybe it is something else.

Whatever it is the goal in my head isn’t focused upon something that most of us would label a crazy dream.

Instead it is focusing upon something simpler, something like trying to make a living doing something that doesn’t feel like work.

Or trying to make sure you live with a partner who you won’t look at and say you put in decades because you settled for safe and didn’t go for something morel

Life is short and you don’t know what is going to happen. You might find yourself threatening a terminal illness with a beat down or engage in all sorts of other nonsense.

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