another deadbeat day,
so what do i do? because
what i’ve done is of no con
sequence. but i’ll tell you
anyway. i watch the new
guardians of the galaxy.
how can someone so broke
keep all of the streaming
services of any con
sequences? am i a con?
will i be able to make my
dreams come true? and
if not, what about the
dreams i’ve sold others.
they are not as incon
sequential as me. as this
mood. this mood of no
optimism. it is of no help.
except that it is. on a night
like this. after watching a
movie. when it comes down
to it, will i do this rather than,
say, eat? it is of no matter.
i am not there yet. always
almost. almost always i am
there. just not quite. what’s
that postmodern phrase that
turned out to be of no real
importance. always already.
yes. bummer. how con
sistent to realize i’ve just
made some newish
phrases to the
same old tension,
the same old dichotomy
as always. already
i can see how ridiculous
it all is, this glass
half full vs. that
glass half empty vector
i’m always attempting to
walk like a tightrope
toward possibility, toward
optimism, when i’m built,
yet, and always, it would
appear, genetically, deep
within, for just the opposite.
do i simply need to make
peace with my inner pessimist?
what a pest i must be to my
people. my persons. my
personal person. my
everything. where is that
magic that somehow i once
and for a long while could
reach? that will? that hope?
is it as bad as all of that?
of course it isn’t. with eyes
clasped tight in closure, i open
my soul. and reach with it from
deep within to, what, is there
any yet to be released? have i
used it all up? look. what’s this?
if just a drop of this juice’ll do me
for now, just imagine how long
and how far i can go, even if slow,
right? yeah. you’ve got this.
that aphorism of optimism i
heard him say just, when, today?
everything is not nothing. almost
always is just short of forever.
we’re already there, aren’t we?
if not, i’ve got the gas to get there.
hang on. oh, there’s no need to be
understood. just don’t be fool enough
to underestimate me. my bag of tricks
grows smaller without ever quite
evaporating. i’m almost there.
except that it is. on a night
like this. after watching a
movie. when it comes down
to it, will i do this rather than,
say, eat? it is of no matter.
i am not there yet. always
almost. almost always i am
there. just not quite. what’s
that postmodern phrase that
turned out to be of no real
importance. always already.
yes. bummer. how con
sistent to realize i’ve just
made some newish
phrases to the
same old tension,
the same old dichotomy
as always. already
i can see how ridiculous
it all is, this glass
half full vs. that
glass half empty vector
i’m always attempting to
walk like a tightrope
toward possibility, toward
optimism, when i’m built,
yet, and always, it would
appear, genetically, deep
within, for just the opposite.
do i simply need to make
peace with my inner pessimist?
what a pest i must be to my
people. my persons. my
personal person. my
everything. where is that
magic that somehow i once
and for a long while could
reach? that will? that hope?
is it as bad as all of that?
of course it isn’t. with eyes
clasped tight in closure, i open
my soul. and reach with it from
deep within to, what, is there
any yet to be released? have i
used it all up? look. what’s this?
if just a drop of this juice’ll do me
for now, just imagine how long
and how far i can go, even if slow,
right? yeah. you’ve got this.
that aphorism of optimism i
heard him say just, when, today?
everything is not nothing. almost
always is just short of forever.
we’re already there, aren’t we?
if not, i’ve got the gas to get there.
hang on. oh, there’s no need to be
understood. just don’t be fool enough
to underestimate me. my bag of tricks
grows smaller without ever quite
evaporating. i’m almost there.
