Early Excitement 10

There are many here among us, Who feel that life is but a joke
But, uh, but you and I, we've been through that
And this is not our fate

Below is the catalogue for COLLECTION ONE - LAMENTATIONS

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May 14, 2025

The goal is probably to just be excited about things. Excited to wake up for your day, or excited about the 4pm Mexican Coke. Uh Cola. Excited about your date next week with pretty woman. Little kid perspective. Excitement for the small things. Mind blown by the big. Age backwards. Make It All Interesting. A while back I read that the anticipation of a kiss increases saliva, which helps clean the teeth. Be excited to kiss, have cleaner teeth. The research is in the golden spiral. It’s here in front, above, below us.

With excitement Ride the tiger. Grab his scruff. Squeeze. White knuckle. Lean back. Howl.

There will be an audience. They’re standing under the jungle vine. Some are cheering - “YES! Go go!” Some are scoffing, multitude of reasons. Envious that eyes are on you. Envious of the courage you took. Worried of the outcome if you succeed. Afraid they’ll look small compared to you, the One Riding.

Some will secretly wish you fall off, break a collarbone. You’re excited to test the bone’s strength.

All are allowed their cheers or boos. This is to be encouraged! Yes! Gift them one sly glance before the Tiger hits high speed, a Quick Look over at the friends and enemies. Give them both one acknowledgement; a wink, a simple smirk, then turn forward.

The older I get the more wild life gets. Maybe Wild is incorrect. The more wide it gets. Two twins born from the same womb and one stabs for fun, the other prays over the stabbed. God gave us free will and we raced to each spectrum of what we can do in this Circus.

I’ve tried many. I’ve tried distraction. Drugs. Harder drugs. Prayer. Devout prayer. I’ve tried being the family man. Bringing my grandmother flowers. Tried the thief. Stealing from Harris teeter. Tried the company man. I owned my own blue collar business. I did ok. ‘Great’ by some standards. The artist. The vagrant. The one with no connections. The Bukowski and Townes Van Zandt. Possible I’m a chameleon.

My eyes are adjusted to moonlight. Not everyone’s are.

Around 1am the world changes. Moon children, oddity’s. One time while driving a little later than that, around 2:30am. On a long country road in the heart of North Carolina. Trees lining each side, with openings for the occasional home. I made eye contact with a man standing in the middle of his front yard with a watering hose. He was expressionless but aware. This is a strange thing. It’s more strange if you don’t often venture into The World at this hour. When you do, when you yourself becoming some substantive resident in the kingdom of the moon, these odd sightings happen more and more. Then, eventually, you become the odd sighting. An exciting transformation.

I’ve told you, maybe in the last writing, that I’ve moved onto a new house. A spastic nervous system and a derailed imagination and an old-boned house don’t mix well.. Late at night I hear things in this house. Shadows move strange. They crawl to my side of the bed. The attic creaks. There’s a family of three up there wide eyed waiting till we sleep. To throw a wrench in their plans I stay up. Watching. One night, a long night, a night I had to really look up the definition of ‘paranoia’ and look at myself. On this night I climbed into the attic with a gun, cocked, ready. Creeping over the joist, slow and methodic, turning a corner and seeing nothing in the entire place except an old snowman decoration. Built with lights as a body, the type to put in the front yard… just staring at me. Purposeless. In the hot North Carolina summer attic. He is a prophet. I nodded. Pay Respect. Winter will come and he will remember.

Life is heavy. We aren’t dogs. We have doubts and goals. The sins of the father live in us. But there’s a thrill built in. A Wild Setting, that can be turned to max. An outlook where it’s all a trip, something exciting around the corner. The sun is setting and I’m excited because every night I climb into bed. My sweet already sound asleep. And I whisper prayers over her. Over and over again. A real madness. A truly insane thing to witness if she were to wake. I go forever. Until I feel she’s safe from anything out there, and everything inside of me, that could harm her.

In these moments I realize it all. Nothing matters until I assign value to it. Manipulate the purpose. No action is too small. Try. Never go through the motions. Be it dark or light. Grab the Tigers scruff. Ride into the thick. I can chant at myself, howl, it’s all in our hands.

WITH LOVE

WINSTON

SOULED IDEA
EAST COAST RAMBLER