Thinking in Ink

Jumpstarted by a night of drunken debauchery, my ruminations on the absence of purpose held up to the cusp of destiny have become more malleable. I can bend or break any branch before me, only the past is set in stone, which is obvious to some and deceptively placed out of reach or sight for others (like me!), so if I am to climb this wall to reach my desired fruit … I don’t know.

I don’t know. Am I to challenge myself in obstruction for the rest of my life? 

I bailed on that forklift job. I blamed it on the shift relocating my weary attention to grave. It was definitely a part of my decision, but I don’t know. I’m not proud of the work that I do there. I’m proud of the paycheck and somehow I’ve discovered that that isn’t the same thing.

Tomorrow is the 4th of July and two nights ago I got into a fight with my woman, ruining our plans as we went separate ways for the night. I chose to spend my time in exile, climbing inside a bottle until someone answered my call to hang out. Yesterday morning he told me he and his father laughed as he sprayed the side of his car with the hose, chunks of fries still prevalent – go preservatives! – and all but my dignity remained that morning. 

Tomorrow is the 4th of July, while today my beloved asked me if I’ll have a drink today. I dodged the subject, yet somehow she presses on and reassures me.

I can still see her crying when I close my eyes. 

Tomorrow is the 4th of July. Tomorrow. Today I can relax and buy fireworks. Be nice to the family. Enjoy my holiday weekend. Kiss the girl. Make her smile again. Maybe I’ll smile too – maybe it’ll be believable to boot. Tomorrow I’ll have a beer with the barbecue. Tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow. 

We’re going to build an obstacle course. She invited me in on the action, so there ya go, you sad sack. Roll with it. Enjoy the time you have before you look back and it’s just another one of your photographs. 

Tomorrow is the 4th of July! America! Fuck yeah.


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