Transition
2006-05-11 12:08 p.m.
It�s that rough balance between not being so busy that you forget the gift of breathing and not being so idle that every zig seems like it should, could, would have been a zag.Every time the stillness sets in, one must remember that the first cigarette was by choice, the first drink came through the blood line, the first joint was to be cool but every one after was about getting high, college really wasn�t up to par on the industry that now holds you as a prominent member and edible legos really is the coolest idea on the planet.
When the 36 hour days add lead bars to the eye luggage one must cherish moments for oxygen and sleep.
I still haven�t mastered it, and I�m not sure I can be a regular pothead again until the difference between senility and being high is the appetite. Too much time in the head gives plenty insight but little fulfillment. Bridging the abyss is far too sobering.
A strange equation that one hopes adds up to a good life and a better world. Success remains the lingering dream between doses of accomplishment and comfort.
If that�s not a steady stream of disconnected thoughts sans a decent peppering of... damnit, I can�t think of the word. You know, when you actually put forth an attempt at bridging two separate ideas so they flow correctly and make some semblance of sense when read by someone who doesn�t hold company with the voices in your head� ah yes� transition.
Fuck it. Another plastic cup of vodka will do for now.