There’s a special kind of liberation when one gets fired, isn’t there? Even if it’s only a brief moment, there’s something about that whole “fuck it” vibe that’s just…priceless, you could say. I’m living that moment right now. Yup, yours truly got fired…wahwahwahhhhhhhhh, & I’m actually happy about it. The beach, the pool, freedom from the abusers; I just have to make it back across the country. Oh yes, I have a big road trip ahead. I’m just up & moving, & that’s the main point I want to emphasize here. If you’re stuck in a place where you hate your job, hate the people around you, or maybe they all hate you, either way, if you wake up one day with that self-realization, and/or a similar one, then it’s time to go. Just go, fuck it, why stay where you aren’t wanted, know what I mean?
Not to mention, this city sucks. Traffic is terrible, homeless sign-flyers on every corner, Mexicans abounding, like the 3rd city behind San Franshitsco & Lost Angeles, so yeah, fuck this place, fuck that job, fuck where I’m residing currently, fuck all these people, yeah, fuck it, fuck it all. Back to the old mantra it seems, ironically the one I just spoke of a few posts ago…said mantra being “fuck it.” Like everything else up to this point, fuck it. Fah-ha-kah it-tah. When it gets too heavy, fuck it, move, move on, onward & hopefully upward. Time moves to fast, & wasting it being in a place that you hate and/or hates you back, means it’s time to depart. Period. The only obstacle is a few thousand miles, which sounds like a lot, especially when driving, but at this time of the year, fuck it. The middle-end of spring, pushing a new summer of love, 2023, as Title 42 expires, releasing countless illegals into the country…yeah, this is going to be a fun drive.
It’s strange, the way the Universe manifest things; it’s quite surreal, isn’t it? Doesn’t matter, I just want to be home. The beach calls, along with all that fresh seafood, & the nostalgia, of course, particularly after being gone 7 years. Yeah man, 7 years, SEVEN long fucking years, full of chaos & mayhem in my sordid life, like it’s never going to end. It’s not, it doesn’t end, for any one of us, anyone of us stuck in The Great Mouse Trap, which is essentially, all of us. Sure, the levels of the aforementioned chaos & mayhem vary amongst individuals, respectively, but nonetheless, from birth to death, the roller coaster ride begins. For some, it’s a chill roller coaster, like the kiddie coaster, except it’s made of gold & you get free champagne along with a hot towel, like riding first class on a plane. Few people get that lucky, but obviously, some do. Most get the Red Dragon coaster, which starts with a slow climb, crank, crank, cranking noise tick, tick, ticking, as it approaches the precipice, & then WHOOSH, you’re coming out of the proverbial gate, coming out hot. It could be a big loop, some kind of big turn, maybe a big dip then back up, maybe some kind of weird corkscrew loop, regardless, that’s the roller coaster ride most of us get. My ride, however, is the next coaster over from the infamous Red Dragon.
My roller coaster is the Black Cannnon, reserved only for those who are dumb enough to get on it. Blasted out of the gate, with the heat of a thousand suns, followed by uncanny turns & twists, mind-bending heights, with sleeping-on-the-floor, rock-bottom lows, & loopty-loops galore, vertigo corkscrews, all you can handle, the works, as it were. Most people puke, then beg to get off, then jump off when they can’t handle it, but they are them, & they, are controlled by their own fear. Meanwhile, those of us who choose to stay on, are just enduring it with the notion that someday, the ride comes to a slow & peaceful end…gently slow-coasting into the exit port. I’m hoping that’s how this ride plays out, rather than the coaster just flying off the tracks into some hellish doomscape that I cannot foresee and/or speculate about. I don’t know, obviously, nor does anyone else, as the mystery of the future, as well as death, eludes us all. Kind of weird that people are so afraid of it, don’t ya think? Are you scared when you go to sleep? Do you remember where you were before you were born here? Nope…& nope, so why such a fear of the future, & of death? The loss perhaps, the assumed sadness that you’ll never see your loved ones again? It seems like the only ones who are truly scared are the ones left behind, as if you’ll never see them again, but individually, I suppose the fear of death fluctuates. I don’t know; everyone has their own thing, if you will, about their own individual demise. You’d think so, at least, but when you take a big- picture-look at the general populous, it seems they can barely wipe their own asses, so any inclinations that they might ponder higher-level concepts, is a 50/50 gamble. Red, or black, but sometimes people can surprise you.
Yes, you certainly cannot figuratively judge a book by its cover, & before you falsely assume that some-one represents some-thing, give them a chance to show their true colors, before you walk across a broken bridge. Anyway, this daily diatribe has reached its end. Until next time dear readers, do not fear death, celebrate the insanely short life you have. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“Celebrate life; do not fear death.” Fish F Fish🎏