The light radiated through my window as I lay in bed resisting the urge to wake up. I could feel the warmth of the sun creeping across the floor and my bed, like a caterpillar inching slowly along. I knew before long I would not be able to resist the bright sunshine, thinking to myself that it would be a perfect day to take the camera out and see if I could capture a few decent pictures of fall in the city.
It wasn't long before the coolness of the wood floors touched my bare feet and I was up walking around my twelfth floor apartment. Strolling by the bright window I remembered why I had made the splurge to pay the steep monthly rent; the view was breathtaking. I paused only momentarily to take in the landscape before I walked away to start getting ready for the day.
By the time I had showered and dressed, my apartment was filled with the rich smell of fresh coffee. The smell alone is almost enough to keep me up for hours. It reminds me of weekends at home when I lived with my father. I smile at the memory, grabbing my favorite coffee mug; filling it with the aromatic, dark, and steaming hot liquid.
I remember, I had always wanted a very open loft-style apartment with big open windows that would view the city, so it was no wonder that when I found this place that it would be my personal heaven. I stare into the vast and sparsely furnished room with a bed in one corner. Standing in the middle of the room, you could see one large window that covered the entire length of the apartment and through that window, I saw what some people only see in pictures.
At 7 A.M business men already hurrying off to work in their tight khakis and black converse, kids walking with their parents; lunch pails in tow and college students with their futures ahead of them; ready to be molded, carrying books that would talk about famous philosophers and how the West was won. Below, the streets were no longer lined with the nightly musicians that play for spare change. Myself included. People are lining up to get on the next bus to the ferry, but no one is in a rush. Glancing over the city below, I am reminded by the surrounding greenery and the public market what my mission for today is.
As I open the door, the brisk cold air from the October air greets me, stinging my cheeks slightly as gusts of wind howl through the tall buildings and numerous coffee shops. Once outside, the exotic smells of the city invade my senses. Today it's a mixture of freshly baked bread and bus exhaust, with a sprinkle of wood from the fires people burned in the previous night to keep their places warm. I take a step onto the gum littered sidewalk and a billow of steam arises up from streets. The ground below me starts to quake from the roar of the subway.
I set out on my journey uptown to the Golden Gardens with camera in tow and the music of the city ringing in my ear. The music starts with the gentle sounds of steam being released causing a high scream and then a symphony of sounds join in, cars honking, a siren as a police car attempts to squeeze by the lined up buses, people talking on cell phones and bags rustling in the wind. In the distance I can hear the lonely sounds of someone playing a saxophone; the music wails its story of love lost as my steps fall in line with the drumming of the city.
I am tempted by new smells almost every block, the smell of freshly made hot chocolate lingers in the air and a bouquet of flowers lures me and I think that I would love to have this on my table because of a single flower sitting like a lone wolf on a table. However, I know I won't be home until later so I settle for a quick snapshot and enter the corner store for a bottle of water.
I am greeted by a bell; the sounds of the morning news on a small TV set located behind the counter, two Indian men talking in their native tongue, and a strange mix of foreign smells. The older man nods his head towards me greeting me with a smile, "Morning Miss." I smile back, nodding, and head to the back of the store. Again I am tempted by the array of offerings in this small market. I grab a pack of Starburst and a bottle of water then bring my selections to the counter. The younger man rings up my purchases. "Tree-fifty" he says, so I pay and head back out into the chilled air. The bell jingles as I open the door.
Before long I am at a smaller opening into the park, excited to start snapping pictures. Already people have gathered to read their morning paper on the benches and men with horse drawn carriages begin to set up for the day's work.
"Carriage ride miss?" one man offers petting the mane and neck of his mare.
"No thank you, I think I'll do this one on foot," I respond holding up my camera indicating my intentions.
He nods to me and I walk through the stonewalled opening, leaves crunching below me. My world becomes a bit darker as the leaves still on the trees shade me from the warmth of the sun. I pull my coat around me tighter, tying off the waist to hold it, and begin snapping pictures. I pay close attention to the birds chirping and watch how they dart in and out of bushes. I watch particularly close to what I can assume to be a lovers' quarrel among two small grey and white birds. They squawk at each other fluttering their wings and moving about in a circular motion before one flies deeper into the park.
Again, I hear the wailing of the saxophone, this time more upbeat and before long I can hear someone plucking strings on a guitar. I follow the sound through the park where specks of light are allowed to squeeze through the bone like fingers of branches and leaves above. Before long I am at an opening. An old and weathered man dressed in a brown suit sits on a dirt encrusted bucket playing a worn and darkened saxophone. The sounds of the pads opening and closing on the saxophone can be heard underneath the tranquilizing melodies. Next to him is a boy, dressed in jeans and a black hooded sweater sitting cross-legged on the ground. He cradles a guitar in his lap, his fingers work the strings like a painter works a brush on canvas, each note is delivered flawlessly.
I notice the soft clink of change as it lands on the soft but worn velvety surface of an open guitar case and then the flutter of a dollar bill as it slowly cascades, joining more change and bills. Watching them play I am reminded why I love Seattle. The diversity comes rushing at you like waves lapping up on a beach shore.
A cool wind sends chilled fingers across my exposed cheeks; slowly I lift my camera, centering the frame upon the brick wall background and the two men working side by side. The camera clicks I am again reminded of why I am living the life I've always dreamed.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Perspective.
Everyone had their own story. The brunette in the back corner was a single mother working two jobs to support her three kids. She was in for a bite to eat before she would rush home to her waking children, with just enough time to pay the sitter, and get her on her way. The tall lengthy boy was a student, working here to pay his way through aeronautical school. Everyone would have a story to tell of how they carried out their time.
However, she was different, and I instantly knew this. The way she carried her bag in, her sketchbook carefully guarded as she set up shop at the small makeshift office. Pencils and paints carefully laid out, each in its own place. Ashtray handy to hold the cigarette she would occasionally take a puff of, inhaling the smoke into her lungs, pausing a moment, and then exhaling. She was so young, yet she carried the soul of someone far beyond her years.
I didn't know her name, but each time I saw her, I'd pray that this information would be leaked out, and the girl I was intrigued by, would have a name. But only the photographs were taken as I blinked in her appearance. I wanted to dive into her thoughts,leaving no stone unturned. However, I would only observe her and think to myself, what a remarkable imprint, she had left in my mind.
She had a quiet melancholy about her. But the redness in her cheeks almost gave away her secret. She couldn't hide behind her drawings and paints any longer. You could see the pain her her eyes well up when he silently slid into the booth in front of her. Moments later they quietly whispered their tribulations to each other.
She was an artist and because of this, she was untouchable.
However, she was different, and I instantly knew this. The way she carried her bag in, her sketchbook carefully guarded as she set up shop at the small makeshift office. Pencils and paints carefully laid out, each in its own place. Ashtray handy to hold the cigarette she would occasionally take a puff of, inhaling the smoke into her lungs, pausing a moment, and then exhaling. She was so young, yet she carried the soul of someone far beyond her years.
I didn't know her name, but each time I saw her, I'd pray that this information would be leaked out, and the girl I was intrigued by, would have a name. But only the photographs were taken as I blinked in her appearance. I wanted to dive into her thoughts,leaving no stone unturned. However, I would only observe her and think to myself, what a remarkable imprint, she had left in my mind.
She had a quiet melancholy about her. But the redness in her cheeks almost gave away her secret. She couldn't hide behind her drawings and paints any longer. You could see the pain her her eyes well up when he silently slid into the booth in front of her. Moments later they quietly whispered their tribulations to each other.
She was an artist and because of this, she was untouchable.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Greece and Jesus.
"What did you say it was called?" I asked the tall, burly bald man working behind the desk at the pawn shop.
"It’s called Jesus Juice, it’s a bottle of Italian Cabernet from 1867. They called it Jesus Juice because it’s said to be made from the blood of Jesus Christ himself," the pawn man replied. He took the bottle from its glass case and set it softly on the glass counter in front of him. I examined the bottle for a minute, shifting my stare to the contents of the glass counter underneath it.
"What about that coin," I said pointing to a coin with the Greek God Hermes’ face adorning it.
"Screw the coin," he muttered jamming the bottle into my chest. "Lets talk Jesus Juice."
I took a step back to give my sternum some room, he withdrew the bottle and placed it back on the glass counter. "I doubt I can afford unopened wine with Jesus’ blood in it, but I would like to know more about that coin," I said still eyeing Hermes.
"Coin’s a thousand bucks, Jesus Juice I can give you for four fifty," he replied. "Trust me that’s a deal, this bottle has been here since 1967, I want to get rid of it."
"You’re not even going to tell me about the coin?" I asked.
"You said yourself you can’t afford it, why waste the time? This bottle of Jesus Juice is right down your alley." He pulled a book from under the counter and set it beside the bottle, putting on his thick-rimmed glasses and thumbing through it. I stood for a moment in silence, ready to walk out of the store when he finally piped - "See if you look in my appraisal book, you’ll see this bottle of wine is worth fifteen thousand dollars." He turned the book around and shoved it toward me. I leaned in and looked at it, not finding anything about Jesus Juice, or even anything in English for that matter.
"This is all in Italian, I can’t read this," I told him. "Will you just tell me about the god damned coin?"
He put his finger on the book and replied "See right here, 1833 Jesus Juice Cabernet, twenty-seven thousand dollars." He said this as if I had the ability to follow along and verify for myself.
"You just said the bottle was from 1867 and it was worth fifteen thousand dollars…" my tone became impatient. "Do you think I was born yesterday?"
A smaller, more docile looking man approached behind the bald crook. He grabbed the book from baldy and placed it back underneath the counter, grabbing the wine next and throwing it in the trash. He looked over at the bald man and narrowed his thick eyebrows. "Bert, if I catch you doing the Jesus Juice routine with a customer one more time I’m going to have to let you go. I can’t have you trying to cheat everyone you talk to just to make a commission. Now get in the back and sweep!"
The bald man walked in the back room and grabbed a broom. I could hear him pouting as he swept the floor. The small man politely leaned toward me and asked "Is there anything I can help you with young man?"
"Uhh…yeah, I wanted to know more about that coin," I said pointing down to Hermes.
"Ahhh yes," he said smiling with a twinkle in his eye. "This coin is from the fifteen hundreds, it’s Greek, today it would probably be the worth of a nickel or so, if we were going to equate its worth to the present times. It’s very old and it fetches a high price. There aren’t many around."
"What do you gotta have for it?" I asked him.
"I would say no less than two thousand dollars," he stated nodding his head slowly, gazing back and forth between me and the coin.
"Fifteen hundred and I’ll blow you," I said stoically.
The little man reared his head back, "Ummm…whh..what?"
"Shit on my chest?" the bald man in the back room hollered leaning against the broom stick with one arm, holding his index finger to his chest with the other. The little man in front of me confusedly rocked his stare from me to the bald man.
"Why not pops, I’ll throw in a Steamer for you," I replied shrugging my shoulders.
"Deal!" He shouted showing off his brown-stained teeth. "Ring him up Donny!"
The little man, I could see, was at a loss for words. He pulled the coin out of the glass case and held it to his heart, quivering away from me and huddling in the corner with it. "We don’t accept that kind of currency," he said. "We do cash or credit, not…not…this is a store with class, no fellatio! And certainly no…excrement…"
"Well I’d’ve taken it," the bald man said to me shrugging his shoulders as well. "But it’s not my store." He went on sweeping.
The little man dropped his hands to his sides and mustered the courage to approach me. He waved his arms and began to scold me. "Sir, I don’t appreciate you coming into my store and saying lewd things in front of all of my customers! I’ve owned this pawn shop for thirty four years and I work very hard to earn my keep! I take pride in my work and my shop’s image so if you can’t respect that then you can just leave my store and never come back!" he yelled cracking his voice and messing his hair up. He turned away from me and began to put the coin back into the glass case.
"I’ll give you two thousand for the coin and the Jesus Juice."
The little man looked intently at the coin, the trash and up at me. He approached me with fervor and slapped his hand on the glass, frightening everyone in the store.
"Deal."
"It’s called Jesus Juice, it’s a bottle of Italian Cabernet from 1867. They called it Jesus Juice because it’s said to be made from the blood of Jesus Christ himself," the pawn man replied. He took the bottle from its glass case and set it softly on the glass counter in front of him. I examined the bottle for a minute, shifting my stare to the contents of the glass counter underneath it.
"What about that coin," I said pointing to a coin with the Greek God Hermes’ face adorning it.
"Screw the coin," he muttered jamming the bottle into my chest. "Lets talk Jesus Juice."
I took a step back to give my sternum some room, he withdrew the bottle and placed it back on the glass counter. "I doubt I can afford unopened wine with Jesus’ blood in it, but I would like to know more about that coin," I said still eyeing Hermes.
"Coin’s a thousand bucks, Jesus Juice I can give you for four fifty," he replied. "Trust me that’s a deal, this bottle has been here since 1967, I want to get rid of it."
"You’re not even going to tell me about the coin?" I asked.
"You said yourself you can’t afford it, why waste the time? This bottle of Jesus Juice is right down your alley." He pulled a book from under the counter and set it beside the bottle, putting on his thick-rimmed glasses and thumbing through it. I stood for a moment in silence, ready to walk out of the store when he finally piped - "See if you look in my appraisal book, you’ll see this bottle of wine is worth fifteen thousand dollars." He turned the book around and shoved it toward me. I leaned in and looked at it, not finding anything about Jesus Juice, or even anything in English for that matter.
"This is all in Italian, I can’t read this," I told him. "Will you just tell me about the god damned coin?"
He put his finger on the book and replied "See right here, 1833 Jesus Juice Cabernet, twenty-seven thousand dollars." He said this as if I had the ability to follow along and verify for myself.
"You just said the bottle was from 1867 and it was worth fifteen thousand dollars…" my tone became impatient. "Do you think I was born yesterday?"
A smaller, more docile looking man approached behind the bald crook. He grabbed the book from baldy and placed it back underneath the counter, grabbing the wine next and throwing it in the trash. He looked over at the bald man and narrowed his thick eyebrows. "Bert, if I catch you doing the Jesus Juice routine with a customer one more time I’m going to have to let you go. I can’t have you trying to cheat everyone you talk to just to make a commission. Now get in the back and sweep!"
The bald man walked in the back room and grabbed a broom. I could hear him pouting as he swept the floor. The small man politely leaned toward me and asked "Is there anything I can help you with young man?"
"Uhh…yeah, I wanted to know more about that coin," I said pointing down to Hermes.
"Ahhh yes," he said smiling with a twinkle in his eye. "This coin is from the fifteen hundreds, it’s Greek, today it would probably be the worth of a nickel or so, if we were going to equate its worth to the present times. It’s very old and it fetches a high price. There aren’t many around."
"What do you gotta have for it?" I asked him.
"I would say no less than two thousand dollars," he stated nodding his head slowly, gazing back and forth between me and the coin.
"Fifteen hundred and I’ll blow you," I said stoically.
The little man reared his head back, "Ummm…whh..what?"
"Shit on my chest?" the bald man in the back room hollered leaning against the broom stick with one arm, holding his index finger to his chest with the other. The little man in front of me confusedly rocked his stare from me to the bald man.
"Why not pops, I’ll throw in a Steamer for you," I replied shrugging my shoulders.
"Deal!" He shouted showing off his brown-stained teeth. "Ring him up Donny!"
The little man, I could see, was at a loss for words. He pulled the coin out of the glass case and held it to his heart, quivering away from me and huddling in the corner with it. "We don’t accept that kind of currency," he said. "We do cash or credit, not…not…this is a store with class, no fellatio! And certainly no…excrement…"
"Well I’d’ve taken it," the bald man said to me shrugging his shoulders as well. "But it’s not my store." He went on sweeping.
The little man dropped his hands to his sides and mustered the courage to approach me. He waved his arms and began to scold me. "Sir, I don’t appreciate you coming into my store and saying lewd things in front of all of my customers! I’ve owned this pawn shop for thirty four years and I work very hard to earn my keep! I take pride in my work and my shop’s image so if you can’t respect that then you can just leave my store and never come back!" he yelled cracking his voice and messing his hair up. He turned away from me and began to put the coin back into the glass case.
"I’ll give you two thousand for the coin and the Jesus Juice."
The little man looked intently at the coin, the trash and up at me. He approached me with fervor and slapped his hand on the glass, frightening everyone in the store.
"Deal."
Wal-Mart.
“Now approaching the Grocery District,” a synthetic female voice blared from the train speakers.
Anders scanned the light rail map on the wall, watched the holographic model train representing the one he was on fly through the Wal-Care Medical District, then slow upon entering the next zone. He didn’t care much for the Wal-Mart Ultra Mart, this sprawling maze-like-enclosed-mini-city store the size of a small town. But he had to come.
The train abruptly stopped with a jerk. Anders maneuvered through the mass of people coming in and out, stepped onto the train platform and almost fainted at what he saw – aisles lined with food that filled several supermarkets, bustling like the downtown area of a major city. He left the platform and flagged down an electric taxi, watched digital clouds move across a monitor sky as the vehicle stopped. He quickly got in.
“Where to buddy?” the rough-looking taxi driver asked, smoking a cigarette.
“Well,” he gulped, “I need to buy a Venusian Heart.”
The driver almost cried he laughed so hard.
“Look,” Anders said, “I promised my wife I’d get her one for her birthday, and if you know my wife, you know not to cross her.”
The driver nodded, still smiling, “Alright, but I hope you know what you’re in for.”
The taxi entered the thick traffic flow of other taxis and customers pushing carts. Anders sank into his seat and wondered why he even made such a promise. The Venusian Heart, a rare fruit budded from a large carnivorous plant found while the American Alliance fleet surveyed Venus for life. The heart, they say, is so incredibly delicious, so rich with flavor, that just one bite elicits a sensation best described as an orgasm that lingers for about an hour. Oral ecstasy.
The things one does to keep a marriage together.
As the taxi weaved through aisles like city blocks, it stopped in front of a fenced-off area marked “exotic foods.”
“Good luck,” the driver giggled as Anders left the taxi.
As Anders entered the area, it was like warping into a thriving jungle. He maneuvered his way through paths of overgrown plant life, marveled at the blossoms of mango, starfruit, and acai berry. He felt alone in this artificial wilderness, even fought off the occasional mosquito attack while winding through the maze, then he stood before a large green mass wrapped in spiky vines and sporting a large shell-shaped substance. Just above it, a handball-sized indigo ball with shiny skin hanging from a vine. The Venusian Heart.
Even though the plant mass was large enough to house hundreds of fruits, Anders could see only one heart hanging there. A sign next to him warned, “PICK AT OWN RISK. WAL-MART NOT LIABLE FOR DAMAGES.”
With a deep breath, Anders stretched his hand out toward the heart only to yank it back fast as the shell-shaped mass came to life, transforming into something resembling a giant Venus Fly Trap. A large mouth formed and snapped at his hand. He felt adrenaline pump hard now, took a step back from the organic guardian. The plant looked at him without eyes, moved back and forth like a goalie defending their net.
It was then that Anders noticed a small dried pool of blood just below the beast. He thought for a moment then pulled out a pocket knife. The plant reacted as a person would, becoming more stiff and ready for combat as if aware of his intentions. He thrust the knife at the plant, but it easily dodged it then quickly clipped at his hand.
Anders pulled back and let out a whelp. His knife fell to the ground, along with few drops of blood. His face reddened with anger. Then he realized this plant was more than a plant.
“Um,” Anders looked around, “do you understand what I’m saying?”
The plant dropped its guard and nodded lightly to Anders’ surprise.
“Of course I do,” the plant said with a croak. “You humans are not the only sentient life in this galaxy.”
Anders’ jaw dropped. After shaking away the absurdity of it all, he replied, “Wow, um, well I didn’t mean to, um, disturb you, but I really wanted that, um…”
“My child!” the plant reacted. “You humans keep stealing my children right as I produce them. It’s genocide I tell you.”
“Your children!” Anders’ stomach twisted. “I had no idea.”
“Well, no one bothered to ask!”
Anders stepped back, took the scene in. He couldn’t rob this plant of its child, it wasn’t right, even if it’s a plant. Hoping his wife would understand, he said, “I apologize. I won’t take your, kid, from you. That’s cruel.”
The plant bounced around, excited, “Thank you human. You have shown your race to be good-hearted, something I didn’t conceive as possible.” The plant thought for a moment, then said, “As a reward I give you this. Open your hand.”
Anders did, and the plant spit out a pile of oozing spores that felt like slime.
“These seeds, my seed, are far more potent then my children are. You will find it, entertaining.”
Anders smiled, “Thank you.” He pocketed the seeds and tried not to think about what was really in his pocket as he walked away.
Anders scanned the light rail map on the wall, watched the holographic model train representing the one he was on fly through the Wal-Care Medical District, then slow upon entering the next zone. He didn’t care much for the Wal-Mart Ultra Mart, this sprawling maze-like-enclosed-mini-ci
The train abruptly stopped with a jerk. Anders maneuvered through the mass of people coming in and out, stepped onto the train platform and almost fainted at what he saw – aisles lined with food that filled several supermarkets, bustling like the downtown area of a major city. He left the platform and flagged down an electric taxi, watched digital clouds move across a monitor sky as the vehicle stopped. He quickly got in.
“Where to buddy?” the rough-looking taxi driver asked, smoking a cigarette.
“Well,” he gulped, “I need to buy a Venusian Heart.”
The driver almost cried he laughed so hard.
“Look,” Anders said, “I promised my wife I’d get her one for her birthday, and if you know my wife, you know not to cross her.”
The driver nodded, still smiling, “Alright, but I hope you know what you’re in for.”
The taxi entered the thick traffic flow of other taxis and customers pushing carts. Anders sank into his seat and wondered why he even made such a promise. The Venusian Heart, a rare fruit budded from a large carnivorous plant found while the American Alliance fleet surveyed Venus for life. The heart, they say, is so incredibly delicious, so rich with flavor, that just one bite elicits a sensation best described as an orgasm that lingers for about an hour. Oral ecstasy.
The things one does to keep a marriage together.
As the taxi weaved through aisles like city blocks, it stopped in front of a fenced-off area marked “exotic foods.”
“Good luck,” the driver giggled as Anders left the taxi.
As Anders entered the area, it was like warping into a thriving jungle. He maneuvered his way through paths of overgrown plant life, marveled at the blossoms of mango, starfruit, and acai berry. He felt alone in this artificial wilderness, even fought off the occasional mosquito attack while winding through the maze, then he stood before a large green mass wrapped in spiky vines and sporting a large shell-shaped substance. Just above it, a handball-sized indigo ball with shiny skin hanging from a vine. The Venusian Heart.
Even though the plant mass was large enough to house hundreds of fruits, Anders could see only one heart hanging there. A sign next to him warned, “PICK AT OWN RISK. WAL-MART NOT LIABLE FOR DAMAGES.”
With a deep breath, Anders stretched his hand out toward the heart only to yank it back fast as the shell-shaped mass came to life, transforming into something resembling a giant Venus Fly Trap. A large mouth formed and snapped at his hand. He felt adrenaline pump hard now, took a step back from the organic guardian. The plant looked at him without eyes, moved back and forth like a goalie defending their net.
It was then that Anders noticed a small dried pool of blood just below the beast. He thought for a moment then pulled out a pocket knife. The plant reacted as a person would, becoming more stiff and ready for combat as if aware of his intentions. He thrust the knife at the plant, but it easily dodged it then quickly clipped at his hand.
Anders pulled back and let out a whelp. His knife fell to the ground, along with few drops of blood. His face reddened with anger. Then he realized this plant was more than a plant.
“Um,” Anders looked around, “do you understand what I’m saying?”
The plant dropped its guard and nodded lightly to Anders’ surprise.
“Of course I do,” the plant said with a croak. “You humans are not the only sentient life in this galaxy.”
Anders’ jaw dropped. After shaking away the absurdity of it all, he replied, “Wow, um, well I didn’t mean to, um, disturb you, but I really wanted that, um…”
“My child!” the plant reacted. “You humans keep stealing my children right as I produce them. It’s genocide I tell you.”
“Your children!” Anders’ stomach twisted. “I had no idea.”
“Well, no one bothered to ask!”
Anders stepped back, took the scene in. He couldn’t rob this plant of its child, it wasn’t right, even if it’s a plant. Hoping his wife would understand, he said, “I apologize. I won’t take your, kid, from you. That’s cruel.”
The plant bounced around, excited, “Thank you human. You have shown your race to be good-hearted, something I didn’t conceive as possible.” The plant thought for a moment, then said, “As a reward I give you this. Open your hand.”
Anders did, and the plant spit out a pile of oozing spores that felt like slime.
“These seeds, my seed, are far more potent then my children are. You will find it, entertaining.”
Anders smiled, “Thank you.” He pocketed the seeds and tried not to think about what was really in his pocket as he walked away.
Well, shit.
I'll be passed on the street
while I try to sell my art
and play my music for a few
coins.
"Hey," They'll say,
"Didn't you used to be--?"
"Yep."
"Your life was planned out for you!"
And I'll tell them everything
after the part they already know.
After I was given money to attend schooling that I didn't want,
a degree that is given to undeserving people,
friends I wouldn't trade for anything,
a car that allows me to travel,
the gift of writing,
I quit and threw it
all away.
Just so I could start from the bottom and work my way back up.
After all, life is about chances...
while I try to sell my art
and play my music for a few
coins.
"Hey," They'll say,
"Didn't you used to be--?"
"Yep."
"Your life was planned out for you!"
And I'll tell them everything
after the part they already know.
After I was given money to attend schooling that I didn't want,
a degree that is given to undeserving people,
friends I wouldn't trade for anything,
a car that allows me to travel,
the gift of writing,
I quit and threw it
all away.
Just so I could start from the bottom and work my way back up.
After all, life is about chances...
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