Silence is easy

I guess that’s why they call it morning. Because you wake up and you see the death of night. The death of all that potential fun. In the darkest dark you can see yourself, all fucked up in a mirror, swaying and not puking in the sink you hold onto. In the blackest black you can drink til you pee down an alley, you can swear as loud as you want, you can scream and cry and laugh and everyone knows how you’re feeling. But in the day you quiet yourself down. You try not to laugh too loud or swear too much. You die a little just by being alive. You speak properly and get things done. You live a life more ordinary so that when it gets dark, or at least when you can’t hold out no more, you have the bucks to go have fun. You know that you can blow all the money in your pocket coz there is more coming next month. So you blow it. And it blows back.

But is it worth it? The little death you feel every day when someone asks you what you got up to last night, and you know you can’t tell them? When someone says “How’s it going?” everyday, and everyday you say “yeah yeah alright” because neither of you actually gives a fuck about your present state and you know if you thought about how you actually were, you might have more than 3 words to say, and that would be a fucking repetitive waste of time. Is it worth being so quiet so that you can afford to be so goddamn motherfucking loud?

I think it might be. I been broke all my life and now I’m not. But I do have a fucking stupid hair cut so who knows.

Fishy died. He just wanted to live life to the max and he died. He lived life in a little glass bowl and he died. He had absolutely nothing to do every single day and he died. He killed himself trying to escape. I think there is a lesson in that, but I don’t know what it is, and I’m pretty certain that he didn’t either. I’ll miss him, even though he was a bastard.