“What you get and what you see; things that don’t come easily…”

I know I’ve only got about 10 readers.

But I’ll say it anyway, to regulars, lurkers and those that stumble upon my words.

 

Here it is:

Stop reading my blog.

Seriously.

Fucking stop.

 

The internet is bullshit and you’re coming here out of curiosity, boredom or to learn what you think you already know.

So stop.

 

Instead, when I post:

Print it out.

Keep it in your wallet.

The back of your liquor cabinet.

Folded in your pack of smokes.

Beneath your drug stash.

 

Then read it when you’re three-sheets-to-the-wind.

High as the hopes of a child.

Beaten in the gutter after a night of bad decisions.

Weeping so hard after a break-up that your tears will cause the ink on the page to run.

 

Because it’s only then you’ll get it.

It’s only then you’ll be open.

It’s only then you’ll hear what is.

Rather than what you expect.

 

Ω

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2 Responses to ““What you get and what you see; things that don’t come easily…””

  1. Luckily – I need not such liquid clarification. Though it might speed up understanding when you’re not availanle on the phone or to reply to comments.

    Wald

  2. Fucking bloody hell Ace — now you expect me to have a printer, ink AND paper all at the same time!!

    But I get it…at those times, you will both need it (internally) and benefit most from it (externally) — I’ll say it again, Thanks for the words.. the following says it best from Shawshank Redeption…

    Red: [narrating] In 1966, Andy Dufresne escaped from Shawshank prison. All they found of him was a muddy set of prison clothes, a bar of soap, and an old rock hammer, damn near worn down to the nub. I remember thinking it would take a man six hundred years to tunnel through the wall with it. Old Andy did it in less than twenty. Oh, Andy loved geology. I imagine it appealed to his meticulous nature. An ice age here, million years of mountain building there. Geology is the study of pressure and time. That’s all it takes really, pressure, and time. That, and a big goddamn poster. Like I said, in prison a man will do most anything to keep his mind occupied. Turns out Andy’s favorite hobby was totin’ his wall out into the exercise yard, a handful at a time. I guess after Tommy was killed, Andy decided he’d been here just about long enough. Andy did like he was told, buffed those shoes to a high mirror shine. The guards simply didn’t notice. Neither did I… I mean, seriously, how often do you really look at a mans shoes? Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit smelling foulness I can’t even imagine, or maybe I just don’t want to. Five hundred yards… that’s the length of five football fields, just shy of half a mile.

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