The Faux Pas Press #129: Fake

The Faux Pas Press #129

Fake

By Jason Fresh

10 January 2012

Not withstanding my drunken state I attempt to write early this morning before the full moon has passed and is gone forever. The day dawn will surely break my heart soon. My heart has broken over many things: I am a loser, I am a fake, and I am a glorious incarnation of Shiva. I am sorry for words that have changed you. I am also not sorry for these words because you are indeed better for them. Yes, you have to be better for them. My intention has been such. So, that is that. Now, my day starts with gratitude just like that movie The Secret – that dude who killed those folks in the Arizona sweat lodge travesty, yeah, I think he said some shit about being grateful. So, yeah, I've been and will be grateful for this life. Work is defined by effort applied to an aim. All work must certainly not be in vain. Some really talented poet said that tonight in an open mic where I go to feel important. All work is not in vain. Let me say this: tomorrow the wars of the world will transform into beautiful exchange and symmetry, all the children will eat, and no one will have to take a shit near their resting place. I must first convince myself of the lie before it becomes too convincing a fairy tale, sold to you direct from the bastards over at Barnes and Noble. Cool. God, I'm so damned cool. I just decried a corporation. So cool.