Whenever I take a vacation or remove myself from the workplace I am reminded of what has become of me. If I take a few steps back and observe my actions I am a kin to a shipwrecked person whom has now been rescued.

I jump manically from one thing to another trying desperately to fulfill parts of me that have been completely barren for weeks, months, sometimes years! Just like that starving ship wrecked person will luxuriate in taking a shower or devour several hamburgers, milk shakes, and a side of chicken nuggets. I do the same with my starving mind.

There is a stack of books next to my bed and anywhere else I may sit in my home. I am reading all of those books. Removing myself from the workplace sees my true longing to fulfill the dead zones of my body, mind, and spirit.

It does not take long to realize I am philosophically starving. I will have mad passionate sex for days, with others or myself. I will eat cheeseburgers, French fries, and have Chinese food delivered to my home. I will binge on bottles of wine. I will write in my notebook. I will type in my blog. I will start to read one book and then get so excited by the words that I must immediately move to another. I will then start to think ideas of my own thanks to the ideas that I am reading and I will need to start writing in my notebook. While I am writing in my notebook I will start to think of how epic it would be to share my thoughts with the world. I then rush inside to my laptop and begin preparing a blog.

All the while living out this obsessive starving-man literary display I begin to think of how much I must get to the mountains and walk. I think about meditating on rocks and maybe it will rain down on me while I am there. But I haven’t taken a shower in three days and that would be nice too. I’ll do that next! Then I’ll go to the local cafe and get a coffee. A real coffee, not some watered down Folders Tasters House bullshittery with fake cow puss to lighten it. No! Strong black coffee with saccharin. That’s it, that’s all. I’ll get a muffin too. Baked right there. Not some shipped in stupid organic piece of shit that was stale and unloaded from the truck last night.

Then another blog hits me. Then more notebook writing. Finally I’m in the shower and the windows are wide open. I’m thinking it might rain, so I really need to get going. But the pile of books! I can’t wait to return to the pile of books.

This is a demonstration in the School of Unlearning. This is a true memory of youth before social conditioning. Do what thou wilt and so much more. I stuff my brain with the knowledge of my psychic ancestors. I desperately grab at handfuls of truth like it was a cherry pie and I was a refugee. I fight the sadness of knowing that this is what life is supposed to be and all of that which left me dry must be shucked. But how? I must figure that out. I must buck the system. I must succeed so I can have the handfuls of knowledge, lust, love, poetry, deviation, on the daily. To not would be the worst denial of self one could ever submit to.

Sledgehammer, The Artist D, August 2016

Sledgehammer, The Artist D, August 2016


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