We spend an inconceivable amount of time searching subconsciously for someone who gets it. The "it" is interchangeable for every individual, but is a vocal point of their character. We very may have more than one "it" to us. There are different things we find important, and we search out people that share one or more of these things.

I want to meet Neil DeGrasse, because I believe he gets it.

I want to meet John Green, because I believe he gets it.

I want to meet Louis C.K., because I believe he gets it.

I want to meet Joe Rogan, because I believe he gets something that I want to also get.


Life is spectacular, because once in awhile it just throws this random person at you who gets it. And this person causes all this activity in the right caudate nucleus and right ventral tegmental aredopamine in your brain to happen, because you connect with one another. You can relate to one another. You both get it. 




What a glorious thing...

I'm convinced that all of society's flaws, stem from a collective lack of contemplating our existence, the universe, and life at an atomic level. Considering all these things has changed my perspective on the world in such an immense and complicated way that I can't find the words to explain it. It's like waking up from an extremely realistic dream.

I understand the fear of spending time considering things that leave you with more questions and no definitive answers. But accepting things as they are without doing individual research is dangerous. Distracting yourself constantly with mindless entertainment is dangerous.

The best people I know, are the ones that try to understand, what they most likely never will. They are the ones that seem like they really get it. They seem content.

You can't do it alone you know.

Spent the week in this negative funk that I just couldn't seem to get out of. I think they sensed it, these beautiful, unique, incredible beings that I get to call my friends.

All I got was a simple message reading "Truth Cult Fire. Tonight".

It's so amazing to share a brain with these two people. There's this synergy to our friendship that I can't find the right words to describe. We never waste time with meaningless small talk. We're too open and real for something so trivial. The second we sit down someone just starts talking and I always find myself spilling my guts to them. There's this unspoken contract of honesty and non judgement. It's so freeing to be able to be real.

With the shitty weather we had all week, it was too wet for a fire. The rain hadn't fully said her goodbye so there was a light mist caressing any skin we left uncovered. Someone suggested we walk to the lake. There is nothing better than taking a walk outside, I tell you. It's full of peace and the comfort to know you exist among all these other prodigious combinations of atoms. That lake immediately lifts my mood whenever I see it. It's so big, and deep, and black in the night. 

I owe Bryce and Todd. I don't think they know how much they've actually saved me. I've had so many moments of feeling suffocated, and hating things I can't change. Turns out, things can change if you align yourself with the right people.

We sat on the dock and they made me list ten things about life that I found positive. Before we knew it we were going back and forth listing everything about life that we loved, that we would never take for granted.

Helped remind me that no matter how fucked up this world can be, there are things in it that make it beautiful. The world is good. I am happy.

It was a dingy place. The kind of place only the drunk would dare venture into the restroom. The bar top was well scratched by the bottoms of liquid emotions. Whether searching for courage or for distraction, the remedy was always the same. It was late, and one of those slow nights that made the waitress worry about unpaid bills and hungry mouths as she wiped the clean table top. Her calloused hand brushed a wisp of mousy, brown hair out of her eyes. Completely oblivious to her, sat a lone man at the bar. His half drunk beer's condensation pooled at the bottom of the glass and began to make small streams down the bar. The bartender's eyes followed the streams, wishing he could wipe them away.

"You ready for another?"

The lone man with the half drunk beer looked up. Lost in thoughts of decisions he's made, he'd forgotten where he was. He shook his head and returned to staring at his hat. One of the streams had reached the old, gray fedora and began to run along the rim, not unlike the modest, silver ring on his finger.

The waitress walks over to the bar, rag in hand. Leaning in to the bartender with a familiar manner she whispered,

"Sad looking man

In the night

when all the lies are put to bed

and you're sleeping in your sin

think of me and think of now

never pause and wonder how

come back and see what you can be totally, indifferently

you're stolen moments addressed, assessed and put to rest

you're heartbreak, that I'd break just to see you innovate

She's a Weakness

She makes me feel like I am losing

I drive to her house just to feel broken

walk the hallways in shame and I don't want to leave

in that room I fell for sin

In that room I fell for you

In that room dreams were born

And in that room they all were torn

I hold on her hand

because she knows my fears

I walk out her door

Because she knows my flaws

It's frightening to see that we're all we have

It's frightening to know I'm not alone

Never satisfied never content

In that room where i'll stay

Yellow

Ironically, the catholicon to life, is life itself. We tend to have this severe disinclination to see what is in front of us. This is the foundation of discontentment. To live, really live, in all it's pain, and bittersweet moments, is to simply be free from the strains of life.

Unfortunately, humans were never so strong with simplicity. We over analyze and complicated the elementary of things, taking away their fundamental values. Appreciation is something this generation substantially lacks. We find juxtaposition in things that were meant to align. We search out selfish intentions in selfless acts. We critique to such an extent we can no longer enjoy the creativity in flaw.