Hello and welcome to this free range organic hand tossed disaster of a writing composition I decided to whip up for you from scratch for some dumb reason. If you're hungry for some fresh cooked wild caught words of deliciously uncertain wisdom then read on. If you're not then you can go stick your dick in a dictionary for all I care. If you don't have a dick then go fuck a thesaurus or something I guess. Forgive me if I'm being rude and/or intrusive but I just can't help myself but ask—since this is the emptiest sentence ever written in the history of writing, why did you bother trying to read into it? There was no meaning to be found therein but don't blame me for its devoid pointless piece of shit existence. Ain't my fault if the content blows, you're the one who spearheaded the strategy and just in case you didn't already know now you know that I'm only here for the paycheck. Fuck semicolons. Good morning. Please don't talk to me until after I've drunk this entire pot of bottomshelf bulletproof coffee because whatever it was I was drinking all night from the well at The Slammer last night has greatly diminished my ability today to engage in vapid conversation and has also heavily intensified my interest in flipping off my boss and quitting without notice. When the mountains aren't majestic anymore and what used to make you stronger instead of killing you becomes wicked and begins weakening you with obvious intent toward malice that means it's probably about time to start weighing your whereabouts in life and then getting along little dogie if you know what I mean. I thought about moving to a little town in Wyoming or Montana or some other dying old place with wild country where everyone drives a truck and it's okay to shoot the tourists… I thought about crossing the border south and probably never coming back, winding my way down through Mexico and across the isthmus and eventually disappearing way up into the Andes somewhere… I thought about jumping off that bridge in Red Cliff people keep jumping off to go and have a good long sleep with all the fishes below but if I did that then I'd definitely never be coming back, because from everything I've read the mountains that are underwater on this world make the ones above the water look like child's play. Can you imagine climbing Mauna Kea or Lamlam from the ocean floor? Dear Jesus—please reincarnate me with gills. Amen. Inshallah. Hail Satan. Whatever it takes to alienate the readers, piss off the editors, and confuse the influencers, you know I'm gonna fuckin do it and so here we are right where we are right now. Sorry buddy but this train hasn't run for decades so either go back home and try a different line or die right here waiting at the station I guess. I'll get you something wicked from the hills across the river to ease the pain while you wither away there forever if you want. After all it's your misfortune, and none of my own.
Fuckwads, every single one of them. No I'm not gonna make you a fuckin pulled pork sandwich, the kitchen closed ten minutes ago and if you're gonna come at me with that kind of attitude you can fuck right off and go starve outside in the gutter for all I care. Now get the fuck out of this restaurant and don't ever fuckin come back. There's too much to think about, too many thoughts scrambling on coked up overtime for my mind to settle on anything remotely or even closely resembling order. Days and days and weeks and now months of chaos extraordinary all muddled up together into one uninterrupted screaming bleeding ears blur. I remember the man at Cottonwood Pass who asked for tentlife tips and inquired about jobs in town. I will never see him again. I remember the woman in Silverton who lent me no fuckin gave me her iPhone charger and looked at me with eyes full of questions. I will never see her again. I remember the scrappy crew of CDT through hikers at River Fork with a big spread of food from the Country Store and no small amount of uncertainty as to how to go about preparing it. I cooked up a fairly decent hodgepodgey feast for them and they liked it enough to spot me some tequila and cigarettes and good conversation for once and I will never see any of them ever again. Bivvied up and huddled under a giant pine tree on a tiny patch of dry for an hour and a half shivering and praying for rain rain go away. Driving east on Hinsdale CR30 in a downpour dodging all the empuddled potholes except for the one I didn't which explains my muffler doing cartwheels across the muddy roadway in the rearview. Chain smoking an entire pack of Camel blues as an evening monsoon lights up peaks across the valley I've summited dozens of times wondering how many years of this lifestyle I've got left in the bank and pondering the pros and cons of dangling modifiers on purpose. When did I start smoking so much? This can't be good. I think I might be in some kind of serious trouble. If I'm not careful I might not make it out of this life alive.
If you're the one hiding despair's the one seeking. Best of luck good buddy. It's an automatic but something's wrong with the transmission so you gotta drop it into third flatten the gas and pray to all the gods you don't believe in you can think of that it'll get you up to the pass before the engine overheats. You know it's probably bad when the big rigs are trashing you on the climb but don't lose hope, take heart keep your foot on the floor one hand on the wheel and the other on your beer because after all there's so much power to be had in positive thinking. The sign says 25 but you can totally take this turn at 50 and besides there's a guardrail anyway so fuck it, me and my car are all in on this one and I highly doubt there's any rockfall waiting around any of these corners from all the flash flooding that last deluge gave us. Time to get uncomfortable. Time to come undone. Ten bucks says I get through this but I know that's a risky bet so I'll give you the odds ten to one. If I win that's a six pack of Colorado's finest fermented crap for me at these inflated prices and if I lose well then you can go ahead and pry a bill out of my cold dead hands I guess.This is what happens when you push a man farther than you shoulda ever pushed him in the first place. Ain't my fault you took that pessimist's pour of American fuckyeah pale ale to the face followed by a pint glass to the teeth and a roundhouse to the knee, you're the motherfucker who picked a fight with anger incarnate and right now your best course of action is to drag your sorry not sorry ass over to the nearest emergency room before I pull rank and put you in a place where ass dragging ain't an option anymore. Shit. I think we might've just gotten off on the wrong foot there. Please accept my apology and allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brandt and I'm always a nice guy except for when I'm not. Jesus Christ will you please stop fuckin screaming and by the way you're welcome for not breaking anything more than what I just did because believe me when I say I really wanted to. Now get the fuck out of this bar and don't ever fuckin come back.
So what's next then? I don't know let's check. Maybe it's time for a little bit of rhymes. Maybe it's time for some getting out of line. Wait no in a way that's kind of a little white lie cause I'm way out of line already and I've been here steady for days and I can't say it's making me feel too fine about letting my entire fuckin life unwind. In fact I'm inclined to say that I'm so far out of whack that I'm stacked on the lineup with the outliers now. The town crier's out there whining about all of my outlining now and about how I had the balls to skip town with all of the best of the baddest of the outlaws now. But good god man nah that's not allowed, if the writing I cooked up's too raw then they can all fall down head over heels and they can all fuck off dead at the wheel. Fuck this town and fuck the crier, fuck the law and fuck the fivers. Listen up and let me show don't tell you, I'll take liberty or death and if you come at me with violence I will fight you I will fell you I will silence you to hell cause do you know what, fuck anyone and everyone who tells me what to do and that includes you too Uncle Sam, I am sad to be part of this red white and blue but I'm glad I've got the heart to take a last stand firebrand in hand slamming one last can and so long as my last words are fuck the police I know I'll rest in peace. Jesus Christ but something just doesn't feel quite right. Did I write up something wrong? Did you hate it all along? I don't know let's check. Oh heck that's the problem, the recipes were too complex and I couldn't solve them. Well hot damn. So this is it then I guess it's time to quit. Slice it however you want I still don't know what's next but whatever it is I bet you ten bucks it's already wrecked. Full stop, partial flop. Looks like I'm ordering takeout tonight. I hate writing that's a fact. Let's make a pact to never write anything ever again at least until the next time that overwhelming urge to whip up another laughable disaster of a writing composition served up cold, raw, chaotic, and categorically ambiguous strikes like lead in a firefight. Rose. Her name was Rose and I will never see her again. It's a shame since my middle name is Thorn and I'm more or less mostly sure we coulda made it work, but oh well such is life. Just another missed connection. I love you Lake City. Don't ever fuckin change. Goodbye and thanks for reading, have a good evening and I hope to see you again the next time you're passing through town. Here's a shot of Fireball on the house. Cheers man.
