02.28.03 - 4:28 pm
twenty minute freeform.

and today is yet another day that i sit in front of this computer, spewing words onto paper. i've given myself this goal, to write for twenty minutes. anything and everything that comes into my brain is going here. i'm teaching myself how to create again. how to paint emotion with words. trite, yes, but something i need. something i've needed to do for awhile.

i need to find a muse in something other than despair.

i'll write about me.

no, too vain.

i'll write about sound.

a young man's voice, yelling above the noise of tuning. the timpani joins him, and i can feel the triumph inherent in his tone even over the rumble of the drum. as he shouts a guitar joins in, a rock country jangle that only makes the words his voice sings that much more meaningful.

i felt that way once. "i am not singing for you". i am not writing for me, or for you, or for anyone.

this is not for anything.

this is just to be.

to get in the habit again of creating words on a page, to rekindle something i lost when i became alive again.

that makes no sense but i don't care.

write.

write.

write about how the only music i like anymore is happy music or politico rock. the more liberal the better. class warfare is always a good subject.

FUCK you people who say it's not PC to go after the rich and the upper middle class because they fuck us over, the poor kids, the people who work hard at dead end jobs and get FUCKING NOWHERE.

ten minutes gone.

i am still in love with my bright eyes albums.

fuck popular opinion, where do they get poll data from anyway?

fuck my upbringing, all it taught me is that the suburbanites are all the same and i am not one of them. i don't want their suvs or their status quo. i want to do more than just exist in some sad pink pastel cookie cutter suburb. i want to be alive. vibrant.

i am a bright magenta crayon waiting to be used.

i want to go out and burn down panera's.

i want to go set fire to my hometown.

i want to kill the fucking status quo. why? question authority, that's fucking why. they've lied to me in my school books, to my face. they tell me this new tax cut will give me more money, but i won't see it.

i just want out of here.

write.

write.

two more minutes.

one. two. three. go.

i walk up and down the stairs in my apartment building every day. never noticing them. today the railing was black. i don't know if it's always been black, or just turned black today to scare me, but i saw it today. not just looked at it, but actually saw it.

it makes me wonder what else in life i've missed. i've done it before. like the day i noticed, after fourteen years of living in west des moines, iowa, that there were skylights in the local mall. makes me wonder how many tiny, beautiful things in life have slipped past me.

tonight i think i'll take time and look at everything.

twenty.

.drink up baby, look at the stars. // .i'll kiss you again, between the bars.