A flat stretch in Texas - 01.07.06
We all seem to be doing such a good job at keeping our hands on our souls. Keeping it out of hands it doesn't belong too. It just keeps us busy in the end. In the end, they all think they'll have it, one way or another. I'm in no hurry, and I don't think anyone can blame me for that. No argument. Hands down. All in the fucking timing.
He told me he didn't know. It wasn't a question I ever really expected to hear an answer to. Just one of those you ask, but Yorrick always did things when he felt like it, and where it sometimes gets on my nerves to have him be so fucking flighty, I can't imagine him any other way. To try to make him different is like fucking trying to hold a tornado in a teacup. It just doesn't happen. Especially not with this man.
He's got to be the strangest of us all that I've met. Got one of those eyes that's cloudless and holds the world in it. A world Raven created to him. I really don't get that Indian shit either, and he knows that. We've all got different keys we attach to our esoteric keychains. His just happens to be this. We've got the one thing in common though, our fucked up eyes, our experiences. It all plays differently. If there is any man who knows me best and knows the secrets of what blind eyes might pass over when it comes to me, this is him. I found him tonight out in the west, under those damned weightless skies he likes so much. Always a fucking go-around to be had. Was time we were meeting up again. So here we are.
You always hear people talk about immortality like it was a curse, but really, I think that only applies to you if you stop learning. Stop changing. I don't know that there really ever is an end to the world out there. Forgetting things can define an existence sometimes and give the shit its purpose, because then you have something to learn again. I don't know when I'm going to die, but I know when it comes the world will be my fucking oyster because I'm better than it. I'm not immortal, and I damn well never want to be. There are ways to make it happen, but that's really just a pipe-dream's running joke; not fucking funny at all.
I've only got one soul that I give a shit about and that's mine. It's written in a ledger somewhere far away in a place where I can only feel it brushing past my lips if I concentrate. I still remember. I can get it back if I want, but nothing is ever fucking free, and I'm not terribly concerned about that shit right now. I'm a patient jane. Course I'll find that crossroad one day. It's why the internet is such a fucking fantastic place. So busy and so big. We all have time to find it, and we do any damn thing we want with it except look out for each other. That's not something I need to fuckin' learn though.
Course Yorrick is telling me he's not about using this time to yarn with me. We are gateways and I am a god inside these wires. Words like 'love' don't fucking matter to us. We will simply be as we damn well are, and I will find a small peace inside myself come a few hours from now. We will keep it like that, and we will continue learning in our contained fictional immortalities.
Just as we always have.
He told me he didn't know. It wasn't a question I ever really expected to hear an answer to. Just one of those you ask, but Yorrick always did things when he felt like it, and where it sometimes gets on my nerves to have him be so fucking flighty, I can't imagine him any other way. To try to make him different is like fucking trying to hold a tornado in a teacup. It just doesn't happen. Especially not with this man.
He's got to be the strangest of us all that I've met. Got one of those eyes that's cloudless and holds the world in it. A world Raven created to him. I really don't get that Indian shit either, and he knows that. We've all got different keys we attach to our esoteric keychains. His just happens to be this. We've got the one thing in common though, our fucked up eyes, our experiences. It all plays differently. If there is any man who knows me best and knows the secrets of what blind eyes might pass over when it comes to me, this is him. I found him tonight out in the west, under those damned weightless skies he likes so much. Always a fucking go-around to be had. Was time we were meeting up again. So here we are.
You always hear people talk about immortality like it was a curse, but really, I think that only applies to you if you stop learning. Stop changing. I don't know that there really ever is an end to the world out there. Forgetting things can define an existence sometimes and give the shit its purpose, because then you have something to learn again. I don't know when I'm going to die, but I know when it comes the world will be my fucking oyster because I'm better than it. I'm not immortal, and I damn well never want to be. There are ways to make it happen, but that's really just a pipe-dream's running joke; not fucking funny at all.
I've only got one soul that I give a shit about and that's mine. It's written in a ledger somewhere far away in a place where I can only feel it brushing past my lips if I concentrate. I still remember. I can get it back if I want, but nothing is ever fucking free, and I'm not terribly concerned about that shit right now. I'm a patient jane. Course I'll find that crossroad one day. It's why the internet is such a fucking fantastic place. So busy and so big. We all have time to find it, and we do any damn thing we want with it except look out for each other. That's not something I need to fuckin' learn though.
Course Yorrick is telling me he's not about using this time to yarn with me. We are gateways and I am a god inside these wires. Words like 'love' don't fucking matter to us. We will simply be as we damn well are, and I will find a small peace inside myself come a few hours from now. We will keep it like that, and we will continue learning in our contained fictional immortalities.
Just as we always have.