all the good luck in the world won't save you from yourself we were born as four young men all at odds with something we couldn't conjure a name for a masochistic lightning bolt of self-destruction streaking through us
the straight man doing everything right with a bottle of soda which gets so shaken up that it pops and spills over on drunken occasions body becoming synonymous with temple a place of worship with a strong love for vicariously living the southern life
The anarchist spelled ID ID ID ID is getting ****** up and thinking he ***** up all too often Mr. Insomniac Mr. smoker's hack ash stained fingers slowly yellowing as the hot Richmond sun turns our skin to leather He is brave he is impulsive smart, but not smart enough to figure out how to get out of his own way some would say criminal he would say unlucky I would say What's the difference?
The anomaly much older than the few years he carries in his hand to skip away as stones across the pond of awkward, confused, troubled adolescence at home in front of a room full of people doing stupid **** in clever ways making them laugh and laugh at home locked away for countless summer days in his bedroom talking to strangers in some online video game he reminds me much of myself which is why I have always carried the chips on his shoulders close to my heart because if we raise him right, he'll be better than all of us
The OCD CEO the creative type with a metaphorical hippy flower in her hair a teacher a healer a support beam and a ******* basket case gifted in the tongue with the art of embellishment and when her kingdom comes under attack she uses love as a shield and guilt as a sword she can read all the words but only if they are jumbled in the precisely right order just because "That's how it should be"
The King of Abdication made of steel and iron as still as a stone until the scent of blood reaches his nostrils so strange to see the visage in the shattered mirror of cold, calculated, killer on the battle field of capitalism nerdy, awkward, silent on the battle field of human relations A rolling stone who always rolled on back home who taught me that sometimes you have no other option but to buckle down, take the hits be a man and finish the job as well as you can frugality and hard work and yaddah yaddah surprised me when he told me "Sometimes you just need to jump, Jumping was the best choice I ever made"
The Rebel, highly frustrating intelligent confident in his lack of self-esteem unaware of what happened in those hazy years to lead him to reach out to total strangers like he was begging for a new toy "Look what I made! Isn't it good? Please tell me it's good. Please tell me I'm okay." who never liked being told "I'm older than you, so do what I say" so he made it his own personal mission to do the opposite whenever he could regardless of what it meant for him and in his mind he paints himself as missed genius too intelligent to ever be happy with the world he lives in and in everybody else's mind he is a whiny little kid in need of a kick in the pants and a job a grade A reality check before his burning protest leaves him stranded with no bridges a hermit of his own making constantly looking for that human attention
The cast is in place the audience are taking their seats but this isn't a play not a comedy, tragedy not a hope nobody knows how it is all going to end but like fair weather NASCAR fans they are just there for the crashes
about my family, or just families in general I guess. We are all crazy and I love it