No one has their shit together. It's just a nice little show. Some people actually have balance, but it's a fragile, delicate awareness. Others are just really good at "being" something--chasing an identity like it's a fucking religion.
The idea of an institution of thought or belief keeps people safe. It's comforting to think you know shit. Then you think you're really something, huh. Smartass.
I have a french punk song called "Je ne se pas" (I don't know). It's fun. Because it's the most down to fucking earth song ever. I think everyone should scream something they don't know every single day and be glad they don't know anything so living remains a little line of surprises (a box of fucking chocolate, or confetti snakes, pickles, whatever you dig...).
I saw a dog get hit by a car today. Just clipped it. Saw a white fluff fly up from the tire and plop back down, spitting blood. It was almost as if the dog had to die to survive. He had to surrender his body, all of his being, to the moment. The moment of puking up blood. The moment of twitching with shock. Blood loss--light headedness. Being carried in a bloody jacket to a patch of grass next to a gas station in Beverly Hills only to shake and spit up more blood. Complete surrender to the heinous. The grotesque truth of the very moment that any of us could be returned to the elements just as fast as the car whipped and spat out the cotton ball dog. Surrender to the moment. Taste the blood while it still pumps through you. It's a gift.
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