there never was a time in my life when i thought that i knew everything, even though sometimes i acted like it. but when i was younger, i did think that i knew alot of things about pain, love, life. i knew that i didn't know everything, but i also did think that i was invincible. i thought i could brave everything. and no, 21 isn't old, but maybe it is old enough to admit that i'm not invincible, and that i do know some things, even though most of what i was so sure of before has turned out to be wrong. now that i'm older, i know that rpiorities could change at a drop of a hat, or the arrival of someone new in your life, and that doesn't necessarily mean that you're a bad person. now i know that there is no one you can depend on but yourself, but that doesn't mean that you're alone. i also know now that time does exist, and even though there never is enough time, rest is good. i also know that i can never rely on schedules, but it's always good to have a back-up plan. i know that even just thinking about certain people disappearing from your life hurts, it's never as bad as when it actually happens. and that pain is only fleeting, but the memory of that same pain will always be there. as pretentious as it sounds, i feel so old all of a sudden. and it's not because of the things that have happened to me, but because of the knowledge that i haven't been through much yet. now that i'm older, i know that i can't depend on anyone but myself, but that doesn't mean i'm alone. i know i already said that, but i feel that i have to keep saying it just to convince myself that it's true. now that i'm older, i realize that denial is just too much work, it's easier to face reality instead. and just the same, just because it's easier to do one thing, doesn't mean that you learn more from it. my dad says, if it feels right, do it. and someone else once told me that if you can't be good, do it well. so now that i'ma day older than yesterday, i know this: if it feels right, then you're doing it well.

I’m listening to john lee hooker. Which could mean one of two things. It’s bad, or it’s getting better. Doesn’t make much sense, does it? It’s music like this that makes me remember when I used to say “the world is dead”. And that’s a good thing, because atleast I’m not thinking that now, but merely remembering that I used to. Makes me lunge for the nearest drink. Straight, no chaser. Do you have to be tragic to listen to the blues? I’m not addicted to pain. But it does make listening to the blues a whole different experience. It’s falling into this deep pit, knowing that at the bottom of the pit is a cushion of feather down pillows, because you’re gonna have to survive the fall to laboriously climb out of that hole just so you can fall in all over again. I said to myself the other day that I envy certain people’s disposition of being able to delude themselves into thinking that there is no problem. Now I know that while that may work for them, just the same, they’re missing out. Sure, they hear the music. But to them it’s just mathematical equations that their brains decipher into notes that sound nice to the ear. What the hell kind of pussy word is nice? But to me…it’s more than just saying that it’s soul. It’s the blues, man! There’s no other way to put it. When you’ve been to the bottom of that pit, and you’ve allowed yourself to fall, you know you’re alive. You can just taste it. Sweet, sweet aching. Nothing better to jump start your day than a dose of wailing guitars and grumbling pianos. I pity anyone who hasn’t ever given in to feeling desolate and miserable. They’re still living in the bubblegum pop, pink balloons and fluffy teddy bears world where instant gratification is available to you 24/7 for a few bucks. I like my world. When I’m down, no one has enough rope to lower down to me. But when I’m up, I’m higher than a motherfucking kite. NO ONE can touch me when I’m up there. And that’s the blues. The highs and the lows. The summertime when the fish is jumping, and the cotton is high. The Stella by Starlight while holding Annie Mae’s hand. The laying my body down to burn in hell. The chillin’ out and leaving your hat on. I pity the ignorant individual who listens to the blues and says “Oh, how cool”. Life isn’t cool. it’s fucking beautiful.