Caught the new Joe Strummer documentary last night. Maybe it was the wine I drank prior, or my semi-traumatized emotional state going in, but I walked out of that movie wondering how I got so distracted, so complacent, so bloated and ineffectual. I want to trim fat, I want to walk away clean, keep walking, keep writing, forget success and failure, forget status, forget reception.
I want to be productively angry.
I want to wear army boots again. Why the hell did I stop wearing army boots?