Last night, I waited to find some inspiration.
I waded into YouTube,
The algorithm provided with nothing,
Nothing except for a good meditation
Which is usually good for some inspiration.
Not last night.
So I deep dove into Netflix,
Setting for a long-timer in My List,
Thunderbolt and Lightfoot,
A movie I must have seen with my parents
Or on cable at some point.
I could not remember anything about the movie,
Not even this morning
Just after watching it last night
Which is either a commentary on the movie
Or where my attention span is at this point.
There are only a few days left of this
Vacation within a vacation.
I at the perfect level of peacefulness
Realizing the lack of need for most of what the
Routinized life has to offer.
Soon, I’ll be back in there,
Toiling in the mundane,
Jelly headed from reality
And whatever 1970s action flick I watch next.

Watching videos on YouTube,
The newest version of self-help books.
I’ve been gravitating towards Goggins,
But tonight, I’ll watch that biker guy,
The one who came in second, twice.

Today, I replayed his video over and over,
Just a mental rerun, a motivational loop,
Because this dude had every reason to be pissed off,
But somehow he was able to go positive and
Find inspiration after two tough losses.

“Feed the dog!”
That’s the attitude of The Seal,
That’s the attitude of the biker guy,
That’s the attitude I want to cultivate,
I’m hungry.

I hate hypocrisy, moral justifications, and social pleasantries
For each is dishonest in its way.

Why are people so phony?

Why do people try to excuse their behaviors as being good despite calling out People who do the same thing?

Why can’t a person say “No” to an invitation?

The reason why is because we are a pussy culture that prides itself on Appearance rather than honesty, the gospel, or plain old authenticity.

We primp, we prance, and we dance all about so that others can see us “at out best,” but in the end, all the sacrifice and accommodation does nothing but make us someone who is not true to the most important person…ourselves.

I say be done with the bullshit.

If I don’t want to be your best man or attend some function, so be it.
You’ll have fun without me and I’m okay with that.

If others cannot be courteous, eff them.

If others have to bend everyone else to their way, eff them, too.

And if that is me in this post, then eff me, too.

He walked down the beach
Nothing but cool.
Who wears a straw hat,
No shirt,
Shoulders pulled back,
Ribs still showing
At seventy something.
He had a strut,
The kind of confidence,
The kind that said,
“I’m not a person to be trifled with.”
His face was a smile,
The kind that is more eff you
Than I’m happy,
But he could pull it off
Because his aura was just the cool.

I thought gangster or cop.
He could have been walking a beat,
But he had too much glide in his stride,
Had he been a cop,
He would have been more burly,
More confrontation,
More begging for something to happen.
This old guy looked as if he had been looking
For his whole life,
He barely moved his head and saw everything
Then I noticed his hands,
The left looked as if it had been tucked in a pocket,
Fingers only on the inside, thumb out,
A sign his cronies would have known.
His right hand was cocked, looking like a gun,
Thumb as the hammer, index finger the barrel,
Middle finger keeping time with his stride
Tapping an imaginary trigger, ready to apply some heat.

He just smiled as he walked.
Taking in all in.
Cool as could be.
Hell, he was probably a teacher or something.