Are you surprised? I never finish anything…

It is Nate’s 21st birthday today, which drives me to write about my ’21 Club’ thoery.

Normally, had you asked me what it is, I would just tell you to wait and see, that when you turn 21 it will all be explained to you…like a magical door that opens to those of the age, and things you thought you knew would completely rearrange.

And now I tell you I’m full of bullshit.

Once upon a time, I believed that maturity caught up to everyone. I also believed that 21 was this magical number…

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Andy used to play the drums on my back. We used to sit for hours while I read or just relaxed, and he used to pound out melodies on my flesh until it reddened with his rhythm. I used to love the way my skin got all tingly, like I was being tenderized for the cooking…

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Challenge, a definition

1) A summons that is often threatening, stimulating, or inticing. Etc…

What the hell was I thinking when I used the word ‘challenge’ as an excuse for my behavior? ‘I loved the challenge’.

I realize now that although it was a challenge for me…by trying so hard I had given absolution to any challege I may have had left in me. Shouldn’t striving to be with me be a challenge?

Have I really lost all that beautiful mystery I once had?

I never challenged you?

No…

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I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t know how it all started.

The feel of the binds of those books as my fingers trailed across them…searching for my fetish at the time, Charles Dickens. I was on the last book to read to finish his library, save for a Chistmas Carol. I refused to read that one as if defying some law of conformity. Like owning a complete collection of Led Zepplin, but never listening to Zep 4 because everyone else did…

I think I was identifying with Pip when I noticed…peering over the stacks of the books when I saw…

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I can’t understand chaos. Why people want it, need it to exist…If you analyze a situation, a relationship to death, do you ever really just live it? Are you ever really in love, if all you ever talk about…is whether you’re in love or not?

Maybe I wasn’t complex enough. Maybe I didn’t have enough things going on, enough tragedies in my life to fix. It’s hard to guard those who don’t need it. It’s hard to teach those who’ve already learned.

Is it ever possible to be TOO stable, TOO secure? If you don’t wear your heart on your sleeve, are you then not in need of emotion? If you don’t tell everyone in the world when you feel a little down, or depressed, does it mean you aren’t?

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“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars…” ~Jack Kerouac, On the Road, 1957