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Chapter X
(

 
 
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 Ideally I should have written this down earlier Ideally I should have written this a year ago. Ideally Ishould have written this last night. But we do not live by ideals we live however by ideas. Everythingwas built on ideas; ideals often fall short of their goals. Chapter X (the letter not the Roman numeral)was built on the search for an idea. It seems I have plenty of ideals. I need to bring them into focus withideas. Thus the subtitle: in search of. In this book I forgo the stream of conscious speeches, poems andoff the wall quotes. Instead I will try to articulate some sense out of this drunken, drug induced haze Ihave found myself in. Maybe my fault lies in writing the intro before I write the book, well as alwaysonly tell with time.
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From Winston to Atlanta to New York and back
 
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This however did not happen as you will read. I did continue with just that very thing. So I lied to you right fromthe start.
 
I  Recycle
WORDS TO DIE TO
.
 To quickly recap: its January second nineteen-ninety-nine. Supposedly it is apivotal year because; it·s the end of the century. We shall see. I sit alone in my downtown apartment, cold, hungry, annoyed with the general sleepiness of my town.With another year under my belt I contemplate time, age, and just what will become of me when all my sins catch up to me.You see I have been a very bad boy in 1998. Hell, I·ve been bad my whole life.Yet aside from a few random assurances I can·t remember ever feeling much remorse.I have no clear recollection of how it started. Do in part to mental blocks that I·ve putup, and the alcohol I·ve consumed. I assume it began as most things in my current life,with the moment I chose never to be like those who were over me. To never walk thepath they walked. And worsened as I realized I had no choice in the matter. Though, I have managed to walk the path backwards, sideways, and evenupside down. Every chance I get to stray away from it, I always seem to be pulled backsome way or another. I cannot seem to completely separate myself from the past.I have, however, managed to except this and merely build upon its foundation.It is here where I run into the most trouble. For you see my own vices tend to trap meup at times. My drinking and my off center approach at immortality, have all lead toproblems with attaining my ultimate goal which is not to become like those I so hatedgrowing up. My Grandmother, as she is, is fond of reminding me that I am not yetgrown. I wonder often if she is right. Maybe it is my impetuousness and fast living thathas made me blind to the fact that time is indeed not on my side. Throughout this past year if not the last several years, I have made it a point toconceive of philosophies, spout grand prophecies and fall short in delivering the goods.My lust has always deterred me from my destiny, my insatiable lust for wine, women,and a good time. I have drank myself into a stupor, fucked myself into oblivion, andparty like there·s no tomorrow. The Gods themselves have reached down from theheavens to throw me in the right direction, and time and time again I have forsakenthem for fun. When will I learn that the road to legend is no paved with good times?
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