SWARTHOS

Life is too short for anything else.

It was a Sunday morning in Los Angeles and I was ready to attempt to keep my sanity. Instead of waking up to sunshine and peaceful outdoor runs with my dog, I opened the door to find the sky pouring wet rain and a rose bush determined to make a meal out of my flesh. I shut the door and headed to the car, my dog barely noticing the weather as he hung his head out the window of the car.

Even though my arm was caked in thick blood, I decided to drive around the neighborhood streets for a bit. As we made our way around, we past by the local drug dealer, a long time fixture in these parts, with hair of electric blonde and cars that cost more than my life. I eventually realized that there was a better purpose of my day than getting infected by flesh eating bacteria. So I re-worked the plan and headed inside, cleaned and bandaged my wound, and got a steaming cup of caffeine for the inevitable. Then it was time to revamp the shit storm of a website I created all those years ago. Feeling drowsy but determined, I forced myself to focus so I can finally transform my masterpiece into a recognizable format.

As I pounded away at the Power Computer, I took a glance at the dismal electric bill taunting me from the corner of the room — seven-hundred dollars for one month? Los Angeles is one expensive town to inhabit and my AC had most certainly not done me any favours. I decided it was probably time to drink up, and consume some serious amounts of caffeine to reach a different, higher state of mind.

It’s only Sunday and I can already feel the financial obligations of life. $700 for the electric bill – and for what? Searing heat and no vacation to escape to? That’s when it really hits you: Life is too short to be anything less than yourself. It’s not all dynamic shades of unparalleled freedom however. I sit here mumbling some incantations and watching the gleaming rain pour from my windowpanes. The uncontrollable warmth of the sun begins to infiltrate my abode, and my electric bill is subject to the oppressive force. Time to drink coffee, perhaps I can take my already tenuous strength of spirit to a new height.

Devoid of traditional reassurances, I continue my day trying to revamp an old domain for the sake of creative liberation. This task had lingered unfinished in my backlog for several years. Chunks of software and defunct blogs, rambles of unimagined potential… it was time for the alchemical working to begin. But just as soon as it had started, the aching remembrance of my wound tugged at my mind. I wondered – how long will it take to heal? How will this affect my future endeavors? Time falls like rain, and I fall for the poetic lift. And soon I was engrossed in a void of all-encompassing chaos. A Monday would come soon enough.