Blasting Bandits I am, still blindfolded I am. The truest free write and ramblings I will ever do will be scrawled across this notepad as I speed type blindly over these keys with very little editing. In about five seconds I will not remember what I will have written because I'm focusing so hard on trying to spell everything right. I'm pretty sure that was a run on sentence but I'm not even sure. I could be falling asleep right now because I have all these visions flashing in my mind of beautiful synchronized jumping and on key sing alongs.
I'll go ahead and start a new paragraph now.
And another. Here I go. I'm ready for a new tattoo already. It's getting worse and worse. The gap between each one is slowing, but there is so much passion in my mind that I want to spew across my body in permanent ink. Mt body is a canvas of my own imagination designed by big muscly dudes. I guess it's time to get tattooed by a beautiful woman. That'd be nice but I'd be too shy to talk to her. I'd be intimidated by all her tattoos and she'd laugh at my random little one liners and just not even bother thinking about me again. I guess I'm that worthless, but I really don't care about leaving my impression with many. Just the ones I love, and I'm pretty sure I've already left a few impressions that you couldn't forget, even if you had amnesia. I mean, I'm Zark dammit! Hear me roar, but really it's just a little squeak because I'm too damn shy.
Moving on... Following the Bandits down to Austin after seeing them in Dallas was such a life changing scenario that I'll never forget, and I'm really glad it was with Davis and Luis. They really are my blood. Those mother fuckers have been there for me and I'd like to think I was there for them once or twice in their lives. Years go by and I'm glad we're still closer than ever. Decades will go by and I will only hope that the future will be even more historical for us. I mean the only consistent thing in my life lately is everything changes, but you know....when I'm with them, I really hope nothing will ever change. Twenty years down the road I hope we're still laughing at stupid farts and giggling about white shorts. Oh those will be the days. They're pretty much the only reason I would want to live to the point of useless. Sitting in a home with those fuckers would be a good time, even if we don't remember each other half the time.
Am I cr---Am I cra---Am I cr---Am I cra---Am I cr---Am I cra---Am I crazy because I wanna touch your skin. Matt's really right. I've got nothing to believe in, but you know, that really doesn't bother me a bit. I never leave the house without a pocket of pills, operator operator---oh. I'm rather parched right now, so I guess I could believe in the hydration god or something. I don't know...going back to the song...I think I'm crazy not because I want to touch your skin, but because I'm starting to believe in a hydration god.... I might have issues, but it's not even a full year's subscription worth.
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say my rambling is rather boring and you're tired of hearing the same old shit, but you know...If you did notice the same old shit, you should have noticed this isn't for you. This is really therapeutic for me. Just venting to no one but the whole world wide internet. I could do that all day, because I know how little I pay attention to people I don't know on the internet, let alone how little attention I pay to people I DO know.
Ain't no sunshine...when she's gone. But you know, I've realized she's never been here and it's been 100 degrees for the past thirty days....what the fuck's up with that?! Oh It's a metaphor for happiness. you clever little dog you. I'm beginning to think I forgot a title, but you know...it's alright because i live in a title-less world that I just titled the world. That's what this will be called: The World. Just kidding. That's stupid and cheesy. Well at least you know knew the prototype name for this...Piece? Speed write? Free write? Venting process? Whatever it is, it's helping.
I guess this is where I drop everything and just kinda go back to not writing. It's been nice just letting my fingers speak for my mind with no persuasion from my eyes reading and correcting and changing words that I felt would have flown better or something. But yeah. This is a hard goodbye. I don't want leave but I really shouldn't stay because I'd start rambling on about ghosts and I think my fingers are getting tired because I'm starting to slow down and I feel like I'm making a shit ton of mistakes in the past two paragraphs. Only for the night will my mind be at peace.
PS- I apologize for any run-ons, confusing sentences, lists without commas, repeated themes. Just kidding. I don't give a fuck. It's not like I'll reread this for another year or so when I go stumbling upon who I was a year ago.
Sincerely,
Blindfold.
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