smileytraveler

I'm still on the balcony and everyone's asleep inside. In our fabulous modern day it's always nice to know you can still talk to a blinking cursor when you feel lonely.

I'm good at metaphors, so here goes:

People love artists because they want “pretty” art in the world. But when you have an artist in the family it kinda sucks because you know how the sausage is made.

Nobody wants to see it. You want the arts. So someone makes the arts for you. Yay.

Nobody actually wants to see the weirdo who makes the arts or hear the weirdo, they just want the arts. Strip the pretty thoughts out and leave all the sewage for someone else to deal with.

How I envy those fancy New York artists who are secretly psycho but have the loft and the friends and the parties and who can abide by the rules and never offend (to your face, atleast).

When you see beauty in a shopping bag you have no problem telling the truth. Cause, who. Fucking. Cares?

Who cares?

You can wear ugly shoes and sing loudly on the street when your headphones don't work and you can't listen to that song, and tear out pieces of your house when they get in your way and ask homeless people incredibly “politically incorrect” questions even though you love them as human beings and are genuinely interested in their life and how they got “here”.

But people don't like when you do these things. They don't like when they ask you a question and you answer honestly.

And you'll begin to believe you are borderline Aspergers, but are more confused than ever when you see that the most popular Instagram posts are all about “no fucks given”, “messy hair, don't care”, “namaste in bed”, “strong women who don't speak their minds never made history”, and on, and on.

Try actually living a popular Instagram post, just for a day. I guarantee you will feel like absolute shit. You will probably lose friends. Your family will probably be embarrassed of you, if not totally avoid you.

Some will recommend medication to bring you into line.

But after you accept feeling like shit, dude man, you'll feel like a bird. Anyone who says “no fucks given” hasn't ever really given zero fucks, If they did, they'd feel like motherfuckin' Gandhi due to the overwhelming inner peace.

Gandhi never had to advertise how many fucks he gave on Instagram.

I still give a few fucks. I'm not at zero yet. I'm still at about 20% fucks. But every year that goes by I lose a percent or two.

When I achieve Fucks Nirvana I'll scream it from the rooftops.

Until then: Keep Calm and Carry On. Fuck the Man. And the Future is Female.

(I should have said The Future is Female then Fuck the Man...would have flowed better.)