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Porcupine Tree “Waiting”

 

The choices we make inform the lives that we lead. There are many things I have learned over the course of my human tenure and that may well be the doozy right there. Have you ever heard the term “what you put out there is what you get back in return”? Whoever came up with that one was evidently onto something as we either narrow or broaden our scope dependent on how we present ourselves on a daily basis. During that period it is likely that life would have bared its teeth and dished out enough low kidney blows to provoke internal bleeding. It is disinterested with how this affects our personal plans and, why should it give a hoot when there are billions of other people out there to torment? We are left nursing our abrasions and this becomes the key time as it is how we deal with such harsh realities that turns us from the infant we start out as, to the entity we ultimately become. Personally, I’m happy with my dental architecture and have no place for long teeth. I take each haymaker and don’t allow my chin to drop for a second as it can be somewhat troublesome lifting it when reeling from misfortune.

Should you be deep in the second act of your transience like Keeper and pick up your quill then, chances are, it will be as a form of therapy. The term “bleeding” is one which has become synonymous with Rivers of Grue as it is the primary act when revealing yourself to your addressees. We take any swirling pain and channel it straight into our art, thus laying ourselves bare and releasing pent-up frustration and angst. It may not offer what you would call a light read but it is a means to an end. If we are to delve deeper into the honeypot then, beforehand, we are required to open it up to the elements and let any impurities escape. Once those words are scribed, and your chests less encumbered, the airways begin to clear and the lines of communication begin to untangle. The initial “bleed” is relevant but only ever stage one of proceedings as we are remarkable creatures with the ability to learn and grow, and eventually all wounds close as scarring ensues. If I have learned a single thing since my first gush; then it would be that scars provide character. They no longer sting; instead they’re purely there for show. Look how much fun Mel Gibson and Rene Russo had revealing their scar tissue to one another as foreplay in Lethal Weapon 3. You don’t necessarily have to view them as eyesores.

I wear multiple scars and no longer conceal them from plain sight. There ain’t a damned thing I’ve stated, in nearly two years plying my trade as a scribe, that I wouldn’t stand behind defiantly; not a comment I couldn’t defend should push come to shove. That alone ensures that I sleep at night; with conscience clear and intent ever clearer. It ultimately boils down to how fast the penny drops as to when the night terrors stop paying a visit. Once you become yourself and cease being who everyone perceives you to be, your demons are banished. That’s not to say that you won’t fight them off consistently as each sun sets; but you will at least know your enemy and be prepared for its attacks. In life there are a whole apple cart of things we cannot change; but there are more in our power than we initially realize. I recommend honesty there; being true to your real self and trusting that others will find any frailties endearing. That’s why judging others is so unappealing to me; they’ll take their own walk of life regardless of your thoughts and the longer you spend honing in on them, the more time you are taking your eye off the wayward sheep of your own emotional flock. I am my own shepherd; I can lead myself into temptation quite effortlessly, and have learned how to deliver myself from evil at the other end. I’ll just focus on what I can change.

There comes a time when all of the pieces begin to fit together. Should you spend long enough leaping through your own self-enforced hoops; then it becomes second nature and frees your mind to explore alternate techniques. I’m a massive believer in the notion of always learning; my body may well be on the down slide by this point but my mind has never felt fitter. In my head I am still twenty, potentially younger still. However, I have amassed rather the mental inventory and that puts me in a rather exclusive position. It affords me the tools I need to know what works for me and I didn’t have such clarity when still in my adolescence. Life had to happen; scuffs had to be suffered, personal heroes lost, but then rediscovered in a different capacity; I had to stop apologizing for myself and begin to pat myself on the back a little for my endeavor. I’ve learned that at forty but it doesn’t end there by a long chalk. For as long as there’s juice in my flask; I shall continue my scholarship. Every day is another opportunity to learn and, each of our 99 problems, just shy of 100 solutions.

I waited to die and that sucked ass. If there’s one sobering thought about sitting in line waiting for your number to be called; then it has to be the concept of a worse fate awaiting you on your departure from the physical realm. What could be more desolate than going out on a low? I would rather re-record than simply fade away. All that procrastination and where did it get me? Bored to my lower abdomen. Suddenly a bucket list became a priority; what do I really wish to achieve before I take that Greyhound? I have never compiled one of these before now so you will have to bear with me. Now seems like the ideal time to set some goals right? I’m right here, right now, alive and ready to thrive. Once my words are immortalized; I have work afoot. It wouldn’t benefit me to set purely short-term objectives as I’ll be dead in a month should that be the case. Think big, say it and stand by it, my aspirations need reflect the belief I have accumulated in myself through glancing souls with such a glorious collective. I love you all dearly, and state it sincerely; the following wish list, consider our tryst. I’ll try flying, or die trying.

I shall eat medium rare London Broil marinaded in black peppercorn at least a hundred more times. When I depart, I wish to leave behind enough red meat to feed a nation of famished pygmies.

I intend to read more. I’ll set a realistic target here as I know full well that I possess the attention span of a… I’m cold. Really should get inside soon as I can no longer feel my feet. Twenty novels; I have two in my crosshairs as we speak and that’s a start right? Twenty is achievable even for Keeper.

I shall stop smoking as I scribe. Tough one this; they’re peas and carrots you see. However, my body is tired. Real tired. I have too much to say to fritter my right to vocalize.

I wish to marry one more time while there is oxygen in my lungs.

During my lifetime, I wish to witness somebody dear to me realize their dreams; become embellished with riches, maximize their potential and exceed their expectations.

I plan for Rivers of Grue to become truly self-sufficient. In three years time it simply has to be responsible for developing its own unique artistry. Through medium of film, of publishing, of networking, of learning, and never spurning, I shall make this so.

I would rather enjoy a parachute jump. I know, I know, it’s all very Nicholson. Just once I want to take that leap. When I do, I will do so fearlessly. If my chute fails to comply… well… then I guess it’s splat.

I shall smile wide, laugh heartily, and assist somebody else in feeling better about themselves without necessitating anything in return; on a daily basis.

I will watch my boy grow into a young man; all the while filling him with love and teaching him its enchantment. He will keep that playful twinkle in his bright blue eyes and act with kindness and integrity. He will forever be my very favorite person and, long after I have passed, he will sit with me as I do my own father each time I create.

I will live.

Done. No turning back now. By the time you read this, I will already be hard at work reinforcing the hole in my bucket. I have my work cut out, let’s be under no illusion there, although it just so happens that my sleeves are already rolled up and I’m prepared fully now for the come what may. I will say this, I recommend grabbing yourselves a pail as I just wept out pure joy through prose; turns out that its a liberating experience filling one’s bucket. No more procrastinating. I’m past waiting for my in-tray to fill; it’s time wasted and such a precious commodity should not be squandered. I may run myself into the ground from time-to-time; scratch my head and come up short of answers; will invariably fall to my knees on ocassion, and misplace my smile at brief interludes. But no more treading the ripples. I’m alive; cut me and I’ll bleed, punch me repeatedly in the face and I’ll bruise accordingly, make me happy and I’ll flash you my gums and sprout dimples. The Greyhound will be here soon to whisk me away into the horizon. I’ve considered all options repeatedly Grueheads and I think I may give this one a miss. Besides, it’s one hell of a pleasant stroll with tears in my eyes and a twinge in my nuts.

Click here to read Waiting For Salvation