Philosophy of Mood

I Need A Fix

I need a fix, only I don't know what it is. It isn't dope or drink. It isn't admiration, though that's good stuff! It isn't patience with my sorry ass, 'cause I get some of that, too! I don't need much to feed my ambition, for generally I have no ambition. It has to be beaten out of me what I want to do next, eat next, read next. Do I want a drink of water--I'm not sure! People cut in line in front of me pretty often because they can tell I don't much care when I get there or whether I get there.

I don't need to go the beach. I don't think about going to Austin, even though there are some friends whose heads I haven't bitten off yet. That isn't much of an imperative, is it? Cousin JW might say I need a good fuck to shine me up and sign me off for the evening, but not being married or very well, I might as well be a criminal trapped on the edge of town, most of the time.

"Fix me a fuck while you're up, willya?" cries a voice from the sofa.

“Ah, shut the fuck up!” says another.

I'm in the mood for love. Or even just humping, if luck fails me. I want some lovely to be kind to me, affectionate, touchy-feely. A few carresses would go a long way, I'm thinking. I know I'm not usually the handsomest man in the room, But I'm not so bad. It's probably my idiotic personality that prevents my progress. Sometimes I'm too funny. Sometimes I'm too mean. Maybe I should sell chances for a nickel, but I doubt the take would amount to enough money to get me to wherever the winner lives! But I live here, disassociated from land or sea. I should try harder. But everything already seems more difficult than I can handle.

The harder you are, the harder you fall.

Come back around Christmas and see if anything loosens up.

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