My own personal 'Bay of Pigs'

Life is a constantly updating list of responsibilities, in an eternal struggle with apathy. Where apathy once held an impenetrable monopoly, the harsh reality of adulthood has made crucial gains, like a creeping revolution. The worst kind of revolution. I want to crush the movement, but apathy strays my hand. The comfort of distraction. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’. A bullshit term masking ignorance. The Kennedy curse.

"In this crowded room, with an empty view.
 Save your goodbyes, cause we all know it's not the end".

Vanna - Dead Language.

Tuesday routine.

Assemble the uniform and worry about weak ankles. Poor attempts at stretching. Don't be late. Assume some sort of authority and watch the dollars roll in. Casual small talk, while counting the minutes down. Fake confidence and exchange pleasantries. First touch, lungs already bursting. Initial frustration turns into elation when the ball hits the back of the ol' onion bag. Breathing remains a luxury, but carving up defenses is prime motivation. Intense final moments, followed by relief and a strange sense of pride. Handshakes, vivid commentary, brief goodbyes and a final cigarette. Until next week.

Walking home.

A neon glow masks the sea of taxis. An endless flow of economic might. Twenty-first century tumbleweed. Cascading lights and sounds. And then nothing, except the dense silence of night and my lonely thoughts.

So I said last weekend...

The memories fade, and the smile slowly returns. One step backwards, and three forward. A healthy distrust of alcohol consumption. Fleeting ideas of glory and mayhem. Unlocking facades, and the disappointment that swallows you. Impending rumbles of flat inspections. Witnessing afternoon arguments in the sun. Blazing 'n' lazing. Perfecting playlists. Confirming my appreciation of gravy. Die! x3. Insomnia eats away my brain. Feeding an addiction, one death stick at a time. 'Get rich quick' schemes or a desperate dislike of garden activities. Short sentence and full stop.

The beach, the beach, the beach.

For me, nature always seems to provide a calming escape from the stresses of reality. "Where dirt meets water"... the simple beauty somehow makes all the petty bullshit wash away. Nature doesn't judge you. It doesn't hate. This is the work of people. The worst thing about going to the beach, aside from sand managing to infiltrate everywhere, is having to share nature with other people. It's not nature if you're playing terrible music and general douchiness.

But then again, neither is a car park and an entrance fee. Capitalism, in all of its infinite wisdom, has grabbed hold of nature and shaken every cent out of it. You can't bleed a stone, but you can put a price tag on it. Fuck that.

I want to experience nature for what it is, not wondering whether it was worth the admission fee, or cost of petrol. It's supposed to be a personal experience, not a product. There's no GST involved in the cool water swirling around my toes. Happiness doesn't require a price tag.