The time draws near when I will once again unzip my Eric suit* and shrug out of it to dally; to pull the skeletons from my closet and polish them for playtime; to swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh. Each seemingly meaningless passing milisecond compounds with many others to create entire whole seconds which then gather up together amongst themselves in multitude before exploding into a full minute - the pressure exerting on the pistons of life, forcing the crankshaft of time to turn slightly. The clock ticks once again. Precious distance covered as the minute hand sweeps over the landscape, turning the present into the past in the blink of an eye. A lifetime stretches in both directions laid before you and behind you. Time is an engine fueled by an inexhaustable supply of hopes and dreams and happiness, spewing out toxic byproducts of grief and anger and hatred.
Too many place their lips around the hot pipe of exhaust in a debasing show of ingratitude, attempting to suck life everlasting from the cock of mankind, not caring if death rises in its stead. They cling too tightly to their convictions - their untested, unproven, unchallenged morals which are blindly followed. This! This is the definition of close-minded, one who sticks to their principles. One must absolutely be able to prove to themselves before they can prove to others why they believe what it is they believe, and without the understanding that the knowledge they process is colored through expereinces which modify their interpreation of information, they are doomed to ingest those byproducts which metabolize into confusion and unhappiness. Unsuck, and challenge first yourself! Marvel at what you discover, and put it into practice forthwith. Give back to those who have given you so much through their patience and understanding, and judge not those who have yet to accept knowledge as their personal Board of Behavior.
The time draws near when I will step out of my Eric suit and leave its crumpled facade laying at my feet. I will stretch forth my arms as if I were a mighty bird and flex the tight muscles of my back, tight with the burden of responsibility, tight with righteousness. Tight with the oppressivness of accountability. And like the phoenix, I shall rise and roar. A mighty roar of cleansing fire. Expelled from reborn lungs. And when all is quiet I will turn my back on the world and rechallenge my own convictions in alphabetical order; immerse myself in them wholly; drink them in with all my senses and roll them around my tongue.
The purgatory I create for myself when I turn from these Earthly desires, these...urges - I live a blameless life of virtue without sin nor vice - is sustainable excepting a single season, for its cost is high and the piper's payment nips at my heels annually. If a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound? If I hide my visage from the known world and frolic with angles for a time, are the sounds I will invariably make be heard?
I have a date with myself. A veritable lustfest planned. I'm going to focus on me for just a little while, and deny myself nothing. When I emerge in 2011, I'll be filled with the glory, majesty, power and authority before all ages, now and forevermore to once again regain my throne and take care of those I have been given dominion over to the best of my ability, without regret.
Where's my wine?
* - 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009