Windmill, Windmill

In light of recent events and my constant over-pondering of life, I've come to the realization that I do not want to be a ginormous chicken any longer. In fact, being scared/puny/chicken/etc. can take itself and ram it up its ass. If that makes any sense.

This is due, largely, to Joe asking me about being "in it to win it." And I replied, "No, I'm not in it to win it." But if you're not in it to win it, what the shit is the point? Why not? Why not be in it to win it? Why tread water, stand still, wait for the green light, nibble fingernails, or stare at the wall? What is the point? If we've all agreed that life is indeed short, why not lay it on the line, risk it, scare yourself, push yourself, avoid limitations, spit on restrictions, and fuck some shit up? We learn nothing by not trying, correct?

Easier said than done.

2005-09-10 | 5:10 p.m.

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