He drops the rest of his glass of wine in unceremonious fashion, slams it down on the bench before him and takes a deep breath before turning to say;
‘I can’t seem to find a way to convey the perfection of it (and I’m not talking about a person or a moment or a place or a time here. But basically attempt to conceive of this emotion, a feeling, which is sometimes a sound, sometimes a sight; occasionally the way the light falls from the west and the warmth permeates the air. It’s consistently a rush through my blood and an energy in my very being, and it seems to be more concentrated, in certain things, as opposed to others). I feel like I’m digressing, but let me tell you it’s like unadulterated revelry. It’s central, key, it sets my level. But I’ve never been able to explain why; and that’s why. So if she’s a goddess and I’m a devil, then how the fuck could this be level? I set my sights and switch to fade, my disposition long mislaid. Keenly aware of my condition and all at once desensitised, I realise that equilibrium would have served as a more accurate objective, than level. Fifteen, eighteen, twenty-one. Serve three to five, then turn and run. Or something to that effect. I moderated, fired the logic, and fled from all the hype. I gotta level with you, I fear that I’ve been lost between momentum, and the retrograde. It became apparent that resolution lies in fusing the overlapping halves, in amalgamation of the balancing forces; thus bleeding from duality into a singularity. At this point I realise that this would merely reduce the model from 2[1/1]:1 to 1:1. Which means that while escape velocity is now erroneous, a construct less irreverent and rather poetic, can be achieved. But it’s all just fucking theory and who honestly gives a fuck. Could I just step back from this to tell you it was simply magnetic, it was chemical, I couldn’t resist it. That is to say that the madness, held so much greater appeal than the concept of conventional sanity. [For the record you should know that honesty will be the standard ammunition load-out for our weaponry during the course of this campaign.] This motherfucker’s got me trippin’ states, and the precision seems most abundant either in the aftermath, or in the cold-hard-tactical moment before adrenalin melts the soul and you vector into free-fall. Personally I’m all about the latter. Fuck Semi-permanence, I’m taking eternity; by force if I have to. But I’m totally easy about it. Once I learnt that sanity and creativity weren’t really getting on, well one of them became irrelevant didn’t it? Dammit? Fuck no. I found the breathless beauty of scintillation in a bottle of wine from beneath the brim of my Peter Grimm on a long range projection from my couch (dragged outside and bathed in sunshine, somewhere in the depth of Sunday afternoon); and as the flames cleared my lungs I just closed my eyes and smiled. Achieve the means, then repeat the scenes in whichever fashion you so choose. Time, after time, after time. But don’t get lost in heaven yeah? I want you stayin’ frosty and persevering if it comes to the call to make greater purpose and significance something more than just an option, Y’know? And it will. You just might not realise it’s happening. If it comes to that, you’ve been fucking levelled. By the way I forgot to reintroduce myself, I’m Laz. And I’m completely fucking mental. So let’s level.’ (*Grins)
This is the piece of writing associated with my T-shirt design ‘HEIR_FifteenEighteen21’.