Carb Free Nation

“We could be the Bards, ” i told her. “NeoBards for this New World.”

i think i meant it then.  i was still being romanced by my education.  By New York City.  And by the potential in the air i breathed every morning.

Then. The word itself symbolizes things past. Over. Forgotten even.

 After i moved back to Tucson and i realized i could never be a NeoBard. i would never be the wordmonger i wished to be. The saviour manifested in ink on paper. When i fell back into the grind of work and drink and not-enough sleep, i gave up all that romance and licked the sidewalks of my own cerebral past.

 But i feel like i have woken up again.  i feel like i have fallen back into the grind of work, and vicodin and not-enough sleep, but this time yielding results. i am writing again. i am parched for more education. Every day i put myself through the ringer, but now there is waste to work with.

 Words. Thoughts. Dare i even say, hopes.

 Laying in bed with Ari, i told him i could not imagine being anything but a professor. My job now is well paying and even fulfilling, but it is not books. It is not education. It is not Hemingway or Chuck or Camus. And that is all i really want.

 And i will get it. Grad school starts this fall. Life is pain.Pain is creation.

 Creation is saviour. i want to save myself.

Tyler Durden style.