WHY

reasons i do what i do.

 

Because I like to gawk. Because I wanted someone else to gawk with me. Because I like to walk straight out of the door of my self and not come back for a while. Because the well was gushing. Because I don't know man, I thought it would be something cool to think about. Because it's just joke telling, except only sometimes is the pay off is a laugh; other times it's an insight, sometimes it's pure shock. Because I'm kinda over stories about weak little people, in nasty little situations, making weak, nasty little choices. How about strong people, in big situations, making brave choices? Because if you were relieved of the burden of your consciousness for a little while, I did my job. Because stories don't just light reality, they shape it. Because if I don't know what reality is, I don't know what to do with my time.  Because good art is the oldest man made narcotic. Because my brain is like a pink and green glowing neon sign, flashing by the highway, and if you don't like it just move on, some people find it funny. Because words drop straight to the bottom of the soul, like a brick down to the bottom of a lake. And they stay there too. Because you don’t need a fifty million dollar budget. Because if you have a firefly in your hands you can hide it, but if you have a torch in your hands you have to hold it over your head. Because I didn't hear these exact notes really being played.  Because I'm staggering along here, telling you it's all good, but come on, we're all holding that wolf inside our coat. Because I'll know my song well before I start singing.  Because I’m long-term greedy. Because my brain is a dog that needs a bone to chew, and I had to give it something. Because I am no longer here when I’m doing it, and you aren't there. Because irony is played out.  Because yes, we are going all the way. Because these books should have a warning sign on them, YES WE ARE GOING ALL THE WAY. Because when I fire up my soul to speak, it sounds like a fucking chainsaw.  Because in a good story, everyone is right. Because my brains got real juicy. Because even here, amid what is manufactured, processed, corporatized, color-dyed, electricized and digitized, amid the plastic, the silicon, and the rubber, we still stand upon the ancient, mythic planes, mysterious, dignified creatures, worthy of our exploration.  Because I don't have cafe voice, I have stadium voice. Because this is my life homie, you decide yours. Because I didn’t know that muscle in my heart could get sore.  Because I was weeping and I wanted someone to sit on the curb with. Because all I tried to do every day was wake up and give birth, I can't control what comes out. Because I finally realized what the problem was—the volume wasn’t up loud enough. Because conscious motives are exhaustible and unconscious ones aren't. Because I like it when I read something that makes me shut the cover of the book and say, "Son of a bitch!" Because I just came back from the wilderness and I want to tell you about it. Because it’s just me and you, my friend, up late talking. Because, for a little while, a good story chases off the pain.