winning

Winning is subjective when you’re a survivor.  Victory is everyday when you’re a champion.  I keep a keen eye on my losses most of the time.  No one wants to be a loser because eventually you bring it on yourself.  Many have taken the deathtrip and they will take you down with them if can.  I’m just waiting for the nice girl who lives across the greenbelt to come out on her terrace and listen to me play guitar but all she really has to do is look at me.

The sun is out and the boss is on the phone.  I’m in the Operations Room preparing to bathe, do laundry and gear down for another week in Rock n Roll City.  I like activity and I like winning.  I figure I’ve got 35 more years of a somewhat active life and this is Victory for an old soldier like me.  All I have I carried and I’m jaded and bitter by too many memories from too many dawns in uninsulated houses on wasted roads.  I am what they call “Too Far Gone” and I model my circadian rhythms after the Bat. 

I’m happy to watch the sun go down as the winds of time blow on.  Nothing doing.  That is until we launch.  What I’m really gearing down for is the blizzard of shit I must accomplish before I get on that plane next week and before I end up in Hostile City in the spring. 

All that matters is the Work.  It’s all that mattered then and its all that matters now.  I am a workaholic manbat trying to make my dreams come true.  I have had many jewels of nights safe in the strength of solitude.  If winning was everything we would’ve said quit a long time ago. 

Tomorrow comes too quickly and not soon enough besides.  Your warm body in my bed ought to take the prize.

Momento Mori.