Fucking Hell
Sometimes the brain gets tired and it just wants to lash out. It does not want to think and consider, it does not want to explain and illustrate, niggling out every minor detail for the ignorant to grasp. The brain gets tired. The brain would like you to know this or that, maybe where to go shopping for a gift or what it thinks of an upcoming event, but thinking of the words, and typing them, and editing them, are too much.
So the brain lashes out. The brain curses and gets angry and gets tired and feels better for it. There’s stuff out there you need to know, but probably more in your mind you’d be better off forgetting. Fears, great and small, illusory and real, that cow you into submission, these are best left behind. Bric-a-brac of trivia, associations that sully the beauty of the ordinary, these are best left behind.
Poetry of a coarse nature, this is best. A good shit out the brain. Few pleasures as quick, victories as easy, as that first morning piss.
Until tomorrow…
June 18th, 2007 at 21:28
I’m sorry. I can’t read this post without being reminded of my darling son’s very first swear words, courtesy of the author: “Fucking Hell! Fucking Hell!” Boy, am i glad that phase is over. And, Mr. Evanchik, kindly watch your tongue.