john rah essay

Fuck it
With the anger that's brewing, there is nothing to do but write.

Conveniences make me hopping mad sometimes. When I can't get them to do what I want. It's my own fault. Just this second I realized my mistake. But not before terrifying my neighbors with my aggression.

Sometimes I detest being patient. I want things to happen and to get anything in motion against inertia. Well, it's maddening.

It doesn't matter.

I'd rather have to contain myself than get me to motion.

Another thing that worries me is reading Nietzsche and finding him stealing my thoughts.

Being pissed at everything is more entertaining than a vacuum. Fighting against idiocy and absurdity and random walls and boarders. It's all somewhat amusing.


Everything beats nothing.

And it still defies definition.

The Catholics are coming this spring. Not on TV but for real. Virgin Girls with their sweet smelling cunts begging to be licked. And the high Priests. The haters of life and animal celebration, say no.

Impotent dictators.

Still, lies can be attractive. Why have your sexual organs licked when you can belong to a cult of women haters. Dumb cunts.

Somewhere between nervous euphoria and an agitated state of exhaustion.

Beyond fuckin' Nihilism, with a face full of dark chocolate, plunging into rock 'n' roll, searching for a soul. It's coming, the thin wanna be, more than nothing thing. Ripping through layers of ancient crustified lies, attempting not to despise. Learning to reopen my eyes.

It's been a long painful road from the violent sea to creatures like you and me. Those who don't want it, can pack it in. I'll put up with pain and frustration till I meet a friend. It will be just another, a little different from me. We amuse ourselves trying to be what we can be.

Try not to define it or nail it down. Die and come back for another round.

Perhaps I'll forget, maybe I don't know. I've seen the old man in the little baby. It's something to know. I'll tear down the churches with my mind. I'll forget them, leave it behind. They've all been wrong. All those with redemption songs. It won't be nailed down. It will not be perceived. It won't help to have believed. It is what is is each instant that flys past. In the end, nothing won't last. It will have cleaned all the lies.

Leave a new universe to look for new skys.

And when they are there and we too.

We can create love.

And enjoy a good fuck.