bottle 14 or the silence is broken
June 23, 2009
i guess you felt like we were awful quiet there for a minute. in all honesty we were, more to circumstance than whiskey. sometimes you have to be a business, man. this was my theoretical intro. i wrote it drunk, but not on fighting cock. it was a note to myself. to be picked apart and re-examined at a different stage.
now i’m not exactly sure. we kind of stumbled off to our other devices, jaded from bottle 13, busy with a life without fighting cock. how shocking is that? we actually got there, early in my opinion. it was not as much a conscious decision as it was more a whim towards self preservation. or at least holding down employment.
so what was in this silence? this fighting cock-less world? well, to be quite honest, a good amount. life moves way too fast sometimes. it gets beyond your control.with or without the fighting cock.
thomas jefferson’s idea on public education was that you got to a certain point and you either learned a trade or moved on to another level. the other level was one in which you were supposed to become a better citizen, an asset to your community and country.
i would argue that i am neither (for community nor country), and that no one of the collegiate system could debate their stature in those regards either. well maybe some could. i don’t have that experience so there is no need for me to assume, which is a slippery slope.
when you assume you make an asshole out of “me” and “you”, even though the “you” doesn’t really fit. what a dumb goddamn saying. unless you count it as when “you assume.” i guess that’s what it means but that’s bullshit though. man up and realize we are no where near as smart as we think and when we become honest with ourselves and each other it only complicates matters. that is today’s lesson.
flogging with vengeance. we have catching up to do.
even considering all the people who have little faith, we are some superstitious critters. even if we don’t want to be. it doesn’t have to be a feeling, a faith, or even getting duped. that we acknowledge it is almost as destructive as believing. the landmine is primed.
thirteen is a famous number. opinions however, vary.
in sikhism, thirteen is a very special number. april thirteenth is normally vaisakhi, the sikh new year. in italy it’s a lucky number. wilt the stilt chamberlain carried the number thirteen through a great deal of points and women.
it was interesting to piece the good luck end of the number to my thoughts this morning as i woke up. i had never thought of a chance that the number could be positive. apparently a lot of people feel the same way because it even has it’s own phobia (triskaidekaphoia). bad luck thirteen. friday the thirteenth. etc.
you know it. you may not believe in it, but you know it.
as a non believer and a person who doesnt think about luck much in any direction i will say this though. the lesson from the trainwreck that was bottle thirteen is that i had already doomed it before it even began. don’t ask me how in the fuck i did it, i personally feel like it was a collective mental effort.
we foolishly worried about the significance of a fucking number and it obliged. big time.
matt carter argued that my statement of fighting cock not being the poor man’s version of wild turkey wasn’t exactly right and he was valid in some senses, if only that drunks can argue taste. feeling however, will be argued.
none the less, cash rules everything around me lest we forgo a common reality that chases us all. i had a serious point but goddamn if the cock didn’t stop me in that phase. the counter productive smashing style. rope and dope. flogged beyond comprehension. after. after my…
what is today’s lesson? aside from listening to “enter the 36 chambers” by the wutang clan i have no idea. well maybe listen to “ironman” because there is no need to let someone think you’re not serious as a motherfucking heartattack. if they think that you’re not you’ll get sold short. which, for the record, can be sweet and/or turn on you like an example that makes you understand the violent nature of living.
know when to hold em and know when to fold em, aint it funny.
