Sounds from the ground

Back so soon, you say?
Indeed I am.

I can see how, judging purely by my writings, I could come across as some sort of nocturnal liquor-fueled vampire. Seems like I’m always out of my head with drink and screaming (figuratively) into this machine in the wee hours. And you know…

Perhaps I am.

This post, however, proves that I do indeed exist and function before the sun sets. I’m sober, hatefully sober, and the remorseless sun streams through my window like the visual manifestation of a banshee’s shriek. I grit my teeth and carry on, because I owe it to the kids.

Things happened last night. Many things. Probably things I don’t even remember. That’s not what’s important.

I’ve been cold, physically, spiritually, and emotionally, for a long time now. A long time. The world passes me by, life washes over me, and all I do is sneer, because it’s all I know how to do any more.

Last night, however, something happened that fractured the glacier of my soul. A thing of such beauty and… and rightness that I can barely even quantify it. It takes something seriously momentous to put a smile on my face these days, let alone at such a god awful hour of the morning on a Saturday, but it’s happened.

Humanity, you’ve redeemed yourself. For a while.

I reach out and hug the world, embracing you all from my humble home here in San Luis Obispo, in this foul year of our lord two thousand and four. Our species has earned a reprieve once again, and on this devastatingly bright, sober Saturday morning, I’m proud to be human.

Good work. Everyone. I mean it.

There are other things I could talk about it, but they pale by comparison, so I don’t think I’ll bother. My newly acquired mutant power, a complete release from the need for sleep, is not as wonderful as I had expected it to be. I’m up this early on a Saturday with nothing to do for the next six hours, when my hung-over and hopefully equally enthused cohorts will rise from their own coffins. Maybe I’ll go clean up this dump. Maybe I’ll go work out.

Maybe I’ll just sit here and bask in the glory of creation.

Paul is the man.

Peace, love, and rock and roll.

-T.

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One Response to “Sounds from the ground”

  1. no, YOU are the fucking man.

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