As soon as this bottle's empty, we'll rise
and though there'll be decades of clean-up
we've all worked in bars
and restaurants and shit like that.
we get a broom in our hands and it'll be like
riding a bike.
it won't be any kind of party, but it's okay
because we'll have killed that bottle.
once we sweat out the asshole
and drink enough water
we'll be good.
we'll buy whatever we need and
then maybe work on what we want.
see, we're rich.
we're rich
in piano lessons and offensive jokes
and first-aid tips and Aesop's fables.
we remember how to do push-ups or jumping jacks.
we can diagram sentences.
we can count to any number
as long as a few of us still have fingers.
we can count forever.
we'll be fine.
we've got the Double-Jointed
and the Hyperactive
the Bilingual and the Big-Boned
and the Obsessive-Compulsive.
we've got seven seas and stormclouds of
raw, natural talent - enough to
cover this Earth and then tuck it in again
after it dries out and yawns.
Y'all might wanna start building a boat
because as soon as this bottle's empty
we're gonna rise.
...
so i guess this one's a little positive.
i've always been interested in that notion of "threat vs. promise"
this could probably be seen as a meditation on that. or maybe i'm just looking for excuses. one of the two.
what's interesting to me about this is that i wrote it at least a month ago. before the recent patch of sourness i've gone through, and the subsequent shaking-it-off. things were looking pretty damn grim for a minute there, and in the last couple days i've found some reasons to smile... some not-so-horrifying headlines have been leaking through.
one of my biggest issues with this whole Being-an-Adult business is the concept of self-motivation. i've spent so long now just going with the flow that it's difficult to reclaim the assertive discipline i had to struggle to find when i was much younger. i'm not used to it. i procrastinate like a motherfucker. and when i'm all out of distractions, i tend to just dwell on my failures - lashing and whipping myself for putting off everything i want to do. this leads to a form of depression, which in itself is a pretty major distraction. before i know it, i'm talking myself out of all kinds of things. every now and then, i snap out of it, flip a switch, say "fuck this, i'm a goddamn dynamo!" but it usually fades after one or two minor accomplishments and i grab at some distraction like it's a type of reward and the cycle starts all over again.
i've got some pretty amazing and talented friends. they help me through it. bit by bit i can feel myself (and more importantly, ACKNOWLEDGE myself) gradually working my core through the mess and into some brighter progress. the extremities follow. it's subtle, but exponential. so, really, i guess this piece is concerned with that. and how i'm not the only one caught and flailing. so many people i know are in similar positions, similar traps, with similar lofty hopes about crushing the bullshit and getting up on the ambition ride. it's a difficult time for all of us. especially we creative-types, who have been known to smash ourselves in the face with one kind of mind-numbing substance or another just to silence the screams of all our old prayers realizing the world hates them and wants them dead.
this is just my promise to everyone, my invitation. let's actually do it for once. let's actually pool our resources and stories and skills and stop fucking around. i need help. you need help. let's help each other. because we could do some awesome things if we just gave ourselves the chance. we could build some breathtaking monuments. let's be grown-ups about this.
-andy
