Juggernaut

I can feel it coming.

It’s kind of like when you are driving on a sunny day, and all of a sudden it gets a bit muggy. You get the feeling it could sprinkle, and then it does. You look up at the sky and you realize that there are clouds in the sky you hadn’t realized were there in the first place. It’s going to rain.

It does.

I am there right now on the street corner smoking a cigarette and looking up at the sky. I walk slowly because I have nothing better to do, and I like walks. I lift my hat just a bit and squint through a shaft of light and see that it’s going to rain on me.

I’ve been living in a drought for too long. I’ve grown tired of all the conservation and careful planning for the famine. I want all the careful steps I have been taking to finally take their toll on my life. I want the recklessness to mean something in the long run.

The city is a funny thing. It lives and breathes in colors of grey and brown. On a clear day you can see the mountains, but that doesn’t happen all that often here in Los Angeles. Most of the time you can only describe things as brown, gritty, but so full of life its impossible to escape the joy of it.

Somehow though, I manage to escape it. Its all me really, the thought process of someone who loves to torture himself with introspection and malice. I guess I’m a masochist at heart, and in that I am the perfect candidate for life’s experiments in adversity. Or maybe I’m a joke to the bigger picture.

I was on the cell phone with my buddy while Emma and I were perusing the local grocery store for “Graduates Finger Foods” (Sweet potato puffs and cherry flavor per my baby). We are wondering why we do it to ourselves. We are connecting through our ability to literally blow through brick walls and come out unscathed.

We are the ones who survive the plane crash but would have loved to die. We are the ones who made it out of the fire but would much rather have been left. Not really for any other reason than we seem to lack the understanding in why the hell we manage to keep going. I don’t care one way or the other really, but what I want to know is who, or what, or why do I manage to make it through.

That’s it. Just a question I ask of the world. My friend and I are not lamenting, merely commenting on such an odd thing. Equally odd is why haven’t we given up yet? I mean, I came close on more than one occasion. It didn’t happen obviously and I wonder why.

We are laughing at the time I call him up to tell him he needs to take it easy. I didn’t remember that I did that. The reason is because I called him while I was loaded. Imagine that. You tear yourself away from a bottle of whiskey and call your friend in your drunken state…

“I don’t know what your doing man ::hiccup:: but you gotta take care of yourself”

Call it what you will. A couple of boys being boys, a couple of idiots who don't know when to quit. A couple of of grown men who have come to the realization that for whatever reason they have the emotional endurance of fucking juggernauts.

The blind leading the blind I suppose.

Whatever it is I've built momentum and I just can't stop.