broken windows and empty hallways

I’m still fucked up about this shit. I know it will come back.

Tonight I rock, tonight I get out of it, into y’all.

But tomorrow it will come back. teh pain.

Maybe it will never go away, teh pain.

Or maybe I can just write it out of existence.

There are times I really believe that I can do that, just write the freaking pain out of existence.

Write it away.

Like writing is water to wash away things.

“It’s a drive,” he said, as an excuse.

I have my own drives.

The ones to obliterate the pain. The ocean drives.

Wash it away.

The Doors, “Light My Fire”

Yeah. You get to a point where you’re tired of trying to pick up loose ends.

You want to wash it away, you want to set it on fire. You want NEW stuff. Not any of this old tired sadness.

That’s my personal life in a nutshell. But isn’t it our political life in a nutshell, too?

Don’t we want to wash a lot of shit away? And set other shit on fire?

We want to fix it without breaking it, but alas. You can’t. You can’t fix something that is this wrong without breaking it.

And that’s so sad, because nobody really every wants to break anything, not anybody kind, at least.

And I try to be kind. I’ve always tried to be kind.

So I think, fellow Dharma Bums, that what we need to focus on is what needs to be broken. I hate to say that, but I do believe it’s the truth.

It’s the hardest thing to do. And we are the toughest people.

That’s why it’s our job.

If not us, who?

Miep