I’m all used up, and I’m all turned around. Panting, eyes bloodshot, goin’ down. Fuck work. Fuck taxes. Fuck you. Fuck countries, borders. Fuck it all. Fuck the god damned dentist. Fuck the law. Fuck me. Fuck politicians. They have no power over me. Cuz I’m goin’ down. Got no hold on me, cuz I got no hold on me. Lose hold of yourself, and you are lost to the world. No one can control you, unless you allow them to. It may be the most horrible form of freedom there is, but it is true freedom. What… what? What’d I do? Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something that offended you? Or something disgusting? Is it that horrible, so horrible that you have to look at me like that? Is it something you’ve never done yourself, or never at least thought of doing? Have you truly never found yourself in my situation, or at least come close? Well, then, I feel sorry for you. You need to give yourself some slack, dude. Ease the reigns. You too can fuck everything. Merry New Year.
Or tether. Ever come to the end of your tether? Life is hell, really, no shit, and you just don’t know how you are going to get through one more minute of it. And you gasp and waver… because it hurts inside. It’s a physical feeling, I know. You feel like a prize-fighter who’s playing the ropes, and you’ve been hit once too often, and you’re not quite sure if you’ll survive the fight. That moment of doubt… and at that moment you get one full in the face. You’d like to lie down and die, but you force yourself to stand. You’ll win yet, you say to yourself.
Thomas Jefferson said, if you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on, but I say: there is always more rope, so cut yourself some slack. Let some more rope out, for Christ’s sake… give yourself some room. Give the poor horse some reign. Go get drunk. Scream. Sob. Go out in the middle of the night, lie down on the sidewalk, and observe the fucking stars. Most likely, no one will even notice it, and if they do, what the hell.
A while back I got so drunk at a party of distant neighbors that I subsequently, on the way home, threw down one of the big caution signs surrounding the road work on the corner of my street. Four big signs, anchored with huge weights… I had a great old time rocking them back and forth until one cracked to the ground. I cut myself some big time slack there. Do you think anyone noticed or cared?
If anyone did notice they probably said: crazy American, he’s up to no good, as we said he would be when he moved here twenty years ago; and now, just when we though he might fit in after all… never did like the bastard, aye. Ah, well, never mind. Gertrud, bring me another bier, would you? Or something to that effect.
It wasn’t my fault, really… factor one: too many shots of tequila (with salt and slices of lemon, urged on me by the neighbors nice little wife), factor two: my girlfriend at the time (she wasn’t there, but her influence was –the perceptive neighbors wife noticed it, she saw my need– see this entry, factor three: … me. I guess it was my fault after all. But hey, I was just cutting me some slack bro, ya gotta unnerstan’ that.
A society that can’t tolerate you cutting yourself some big time slack when you need it is not a society that is worth living in.
So, you see, the rope has no end. It just keeps on getting worse, haha!