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1st TAKE/2nd LOOK: #25
Live your passion. Don't just follow it. It will leave you behind if you do.
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I often wonder, if I wrote this thing in the middle of the desert on a piece of dead goat skin, would it be as interesting as it is now? Don’t lie to me. Yes is the answer
This disassociation of matching chairs on the street is much like the effects of Covid on our life. How on earth can we pay attention to what’s in front of us when so much back shit is happening? There’s no line to toe. No shape to be whipped into. No role to fill. I want a program to get with. Short of that, a line to get into? Following the crowd is always better, right? Or always right?
I forget the rules that used to be imposed upon us. Don’t you? Some guy shits on the street. I just jaywalk. Each breaking the law to their degree. Maybe I walk on the other side next time. Further disassociating myself from the problem. And further intensifying it. One choice denies another. One’s blame enables mine.
Maybe we should all take a shit in the street one day. That would be a perfectly puerile protest for sure.
Shittin in the Streets. For Relief.
Or Justice I guess. Capital J or small? Again, just (RE)arranging the matching dinner chairs at the palm tree. Tell me how you want it. And I will tell you no thanks, we don’t have that today. Do you want something else we’re out of? Please tell me. So I can say NO. We’re out! Grandpa Smitty said yes, we have no bananas. Sounds right. About now. I turn left, right? No, right.
Following your passion is not a single thing. At least not for me. Driving around LA today got me thinking about passion. How we’re always instructed to follow it. Where? I followed my passion at 19 and ended up getting the boss's daughter pregnant and dropping out of college.
The Oldest Child has a significant and symbolic position in the sibling hierarchy. During Ancient and Medieval times, the birth order crowned the king and killed the bastard. Or vice-versa. Depending on who got birthed and who got fucked.
The Oldest Child of mine is closing in on 40 years old. He experiences his children (The Grandchildren as I write about them) in the same and different light as we all have. Never knowing but always believing. Half scared but all in.
It dawned on me as I was cruising down Mulholland Boulevard today on a full-blown Southern Californian day: I don’t have a job. I have a life. Yeah, I do a bunch of stuff. But I don’t wake up every morning groaning under the yoke of oppression.
My toil is now mine. I do for others. But it’s mine to do. I strike the bargain and fulfill the contract. It is mine to do and mine to fail. I depend on others to complete the duties they themselves have strapped themselves into. If you don’t like it, don’t do it.
I discovered today I wear the same clothes all day. No changing uniforms. No masking. It’s hard to dig this out. The hardest part is deep belief. It’s really hard.
Not deep believing in your true core and your true purpose is natural. Believe me. But it’s not impossible. It’s barely doable. Put your energy into the opposite of what you believe is holding you back.
Rage against the machine. What DON’T you like about your life? Go full bore to thwart that. Just refuse. If you don’t want it, don’t do it.
You and you alone are in control. Start acting like it. Nobody likes an asshole. But everybody loves a winner. What’s the difference? I’ve been both. I am both. How about a winning asshole that likes others?
This Now-Normal absolutely requires you to be something you never have been before. Upon second thought, it requires you to do everything you’ve never done before.
The good news is that you are that person. Just unleash the beast. Be your Beast. Waiting is like farting. Lots of smells but no shit.
You will totally love this 5-song interlude. Just go forget yourself for a bit. Then wake up and turn around to see all of the people behind you. Screaming for your success. Want from yourself the purpose to be here. In the moment. Alive and in the hunt.
Chase your passion. Stop following it.