On a cold night in January (Back when it was cold)

On a cold night in January (Back when it was cold) Back then, though, you couldn’t say that it was all that cold for a January in DC. But it was still winter. It was dark. Everyone had changed a little, gotten a little quieter. Withdrawn some, from everyone else (except significant others). And I was in my room, where I had withdrawn to. I was there in solitude. I was searching. Looking for pieces of my head to come together again, from wherever they had been. I was painting some, and drawing and writing a little too, but nothing special. Especially on that night. That night I was tired, and instead of sitting over the board with the painting on it, I was drawn to the "internet." I was sucked into that portal to the world, like a hole in my head, sucking the creative energy as I spent myself up searching for all the wrong things. I watch it happen. I watch the time pass, the minutes click away toward the time that I should go to bed to get to work on time the next day. I know I shouldn’t get sucked into these dissipative pastimes. But I still let it happen. I know it's like Bukowski said. It's a battle to create, with all of the shit we have to deal with, all the bills to pay, all the bread and milk to go out and buy, with so many excuses that get in the way. He said you have to be like Hemingway. Like good ole' Hem, you have to fight it out, like he did, standing at the typewriter, punching the keys like a prizefighter. And that's what I was trying to do in my room that winter. Punch it out from 9pm to 12am. Except when I wasn't. Except when I was looking at free porn sights, or fucking with MySpace. Then I was fucked up. I was fucked up because I felt my time keep on slippin' into the future. You see, I know that now is the only time that I’m alive. Right now is the only time that any of us have. If we don’t do what we need to do, now, then that chance is gone. Then in the end, we’re just dead. And when I’m dead there is nothing of me anymore. I disappeared forever. So it's a choice; to pass the time looking at ass gaping or bukkake videos online; or to burn the muse at night, with determination and discipline. To invoke the gods of creation, to be a shaman, and leave an imprint on reality. If we’re really living it’s what we do. We find what we do and we do it. You're an artist? No? You’re a reader? A writer? A cook? An exerciser? A porn freak? Well, good hunting to you freaky. Enjoy the good fight. Like the prizefighter. Like Tom Waits says, Pin your ear to the wisdom post Pin your eye to the line Never let the weeds get higher Than the garden Always keep a sapphire in your mind Always keep a diamond in your mind Got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plow Got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plow Got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plow Got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plow