Jan07 2022
Theme: soulless eyes, coal miners and the secrets to life
Words: 602
Read Time: 1st grade level
An important FACT (re. a subjective interpretation of gen pop through my eyes) =
the majority of people are walking through life like their spirit has been completely drained, leaving their bodies as nothing more than a sack of flesh condemned to another day in this dystopian society they find themselves trapped in.
What would cheer them up? More money, freedom, sex? Would acting like a complete renegade, breaking every law, causing trouble for the hell of it cheer them up? Don’t know.
This is why ‘Souled Idea’ the term was created.
My senior year of university I walked by ‘human’ after ‘human’ with a peculiar look in their eyes.
It wasn’t sadness or despair.
Real quick I’m back at a bar. I enjoy the vibe of midday scoundrels snacking, drinking, chatting and I enjoy coming in alone. But, I’m drinking a ‘Nudge.’
Brandy, Kahlua, Crème de Cacao, whipped creme, espresso.
(While typing this, and looking at the menu in between, the bartender jokingly asked if I was stealing their taverns secrets. Maybe I am, baby)
But this look - I was noticing wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t anger. It seemed like an odd mix of despondence and nothing. In the most pure form, it looked like they felt nothing. Like i could kiss their cheek and it wouldn’t even stir a reaction out of them.
Weird feeling.
So initially Souled Idea, to me, meant a way to revive some of the Life back into the World.
Then i realized i can’t change people, maybe I can spark something. and I do, but the real change has to be made by them, so i stopped focusing on that. it’s exhausting beating a dead horse.
So now i pander only to those ready to walk with Soul. I don’t mean happiness either. That weak ass fugazzi excuse of an emotion. I find more pleasure in stress than smiles, do you get this? Do you feel it as well? I mean walk with Soul as in your emotions guide your actions, you speak to girls that catch your attention, you throw your name in the pot for jobs and educational opportunities, you actively CHASE what’s on your heart.
If you don’t invite responsibility, risk, put yourself out there - you’re always going to feel some sort of emptiness. Unless you don’t have a shred of ambition then I just say close this tab and forget these writing exist. Not for you.
So one thing that helped me, and is my twitter bio, is adopting an ‘I can Die anytime attitude’
Forget anxiety about tomorrow, death could strike you in the cold of night.
Forget worrying about the morning, God may call you home tonight…
I met a man today, real menace. He talked like a stroke victim with those deep hanging vowels, it turned into such a muffled mumble that I thought he was choking on his own voice.
But he was interesting. 50+ years old, Grey AC/DC shirt, light brown work boots, unkept facial hair, droopy eyes. A real characters.
He told me he ‘was a miner. worked in them caves for two decades’
Worked in them caves? I was hooked.
Said at times he was working in 31inches of space. Less than 3 fucking feet of crawl space. Our generation knows nothing of this.
He mentioned an old friend, driven by unfortunate circumstance to become a miner too. His second week had his ‘head cut off.’
There’s a lyric in an old Grateful Dead song (wharf rat) that goes something like: “He asked me for a dime, a dime for a cup of coffee. i said I got no money but I’ve got some time to hear your story”
I think about this often when a random stranger opens up about their Pain. Also something, maybe only a theory, but people are more willing to share the depths of their heart/hurt with strangers. They know you won’t hold it against them because after all, how could you, stranger?
This man went on to tell me he grows his own marijuana (illegal in my state) and that he’s such an expert he can look at the seeds and by this alone know if it’s a male or female plant.
I don’t know anything about botany but this is kind of thrilling. I listened to him mumble his knowledge through weak jaw bones as intensely as if he were telling me the secrets of the world.
And maybe he was because that group, the homeless, the outcast, the ones who’ve truly given up on being accepted by society always seem to know something I’ve yet to figure out.
So Live Men! Chat with strangers! Take a Chance! Listen to a strangers story! And most importantly don’t forget Your Life is yours, if it sucks it’s your fault.
Winston
Souled Idea
The Back-ally Poet
That Gringo from across the street
