We are animals. Human existence has shown me in the best of time and the worst that we are animals. Buddhists try to achieve enlightenment, the furthest away from an animal you could be. Theology, police, media, government. All these factors play into our need to keep the animal at bay, yet still it persists. We fight. We will bleed. We will kill. As always.

I fuck as an animal. The only instinct I have is mock-procreation and I am damn good at it. How many women will it take to fulfill my thirst of passing on my genes. There is no number. The instinct in me, the same in you, will always tell me to keep going until it’s time to die. Social structures be damned. I only choose to keep up while you go running, go to the grocery store, to a wedding. I found love and I intend to keep that shit at all costs. Loneliness will prevail, don’t get it twisted. We are just waiting in the wings. Float away little bird, you are not welcome here.We bar-b-q your kind for sunday dinner. 

Our only difference is you do not concede. Do not take that as a symbol of your prestige. I merely submitted long ago to the fight. Our fists will be thrown like daggers into the souls of what is human. Our minds will never perceive beyond the known. We are flawed. We are animals. 

Sure, we went to space. Our ultimate destiny. We have sacrificed many lives in the fight to obtain the American dream. Colonies on all stars! America 2, 3 ,4 and 5. We will be stopped sooner or later. The sun rises and falls, but like the Aztec we know the Sun needs our bloodshed to live. Can we be so conceited? 

 If she waits she waits for me underneath the starry night. Van Gogh never gave up hope and they locked his bitch ass in the fucking loony bin. You see where animals go. They go to the pound for euthanization. Being a problem does not exist in our society. We fixed those people. We are above them. We can finally breathe. Though our breaths are hollow. As hollow as the bone that crushes a perpetrator trying to find their way into a Texas home. Goddamn right we have guns and we are damn good shots. 

And don’t give me those fucking tears as if you didn’t know. You have seen how youth react when left alone. That is us. And we are so afraid of it we had to make laws to counteract it. Why do you think China has cracked down so hard in Nepal? Because the monks there know the answer and they are willing to burn themselves fucking alive to find it. There is no glory, there is only the next life. To achieve this life one must see past the superficial, which in our day is the ever-present wall of information telling us what is and what isn’t. 

“Stop holding back,” I want to say to my friends. We have things to achieve. We have each other. We are preservatives. Canned pickles. Insular beings that bring others jealousy. O, B, and I discuss our future. I want revolution of course. “It will never come,” O says. He is right. “Our jealousies toward one another are too extraordinary to overcome our singular selfs,” I say, looking at B for recognition that I’m not too stoned. He smiles, knowing me and O are talking that hot shit that only comes along once in a blue moon. By the way, O’s favorite beer. Pussy shit, with an orange and all. Marketing will do that to you. It will also do the opposite to me. He is right to like it, it is in fact a great wheat beer. 

Who knows. 

We discussed the idea of buying a place on Possum Kingdom. Going through the accounting aspect, I think we all came to the same drunken conclusion. We are not our parents. A lake house is a long ways away. We grew up in them. Every summer, breasts, jumping in a lake as big as the ocean. Might as well have been an ocean for all we knew. The water always tasted of something larger than our own bodies, like a cosmic soup of dark matter just waiting for an unknown scientist to come along and discover. We want to remain hidden but visible. For the breasts at least. No touching. “Cleavage is always better than tits,” I explain. They never realized it, but they agree. Cleavage is better. Shadows and light. 

The competition between us is the friendliest fight you will ever witness. Our language is a loose confederation of mumbles, rap lyrics, movie and TV quotes, and inside jokes. Those who understand us do not. They are god damn liars and we know it. But we were raised in Texas. We will always make them feel welcome, as if they knew. 

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Our plans for the lake house go as follows:

1. 12 cabins for individuals to stay. 

2. Main house.

3. B’s rule, you take something there every time you make a trip.

4. House number 1 is a grow house for personal marijuana. 

5. House number 12 is for love 

6. Badass deck (obviously)

7. Either a tall cliff or grass that goes directly into the water (not hard to find at Possum Kingdom)

8. A list of participants.

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And that is all. We do not ask for much, just paradise surrounded by buildings we have built. I tell them it's easy. “Yea dude, we can build that shit ourselves all we have to do is find the land.” Then we get real.

“What about property tax,” B asks. O knows with a good guess. “Then we have a mortgage.” 

I say confidently, “If we each save a hundy a month we should be able to do it.” O gives me a look as if I have just stepped in shit without knowing. He quickly disintegrates that hypothesis with simple logic. Clearly I’m not the money man. Never have been. It flees my chicken coop. 

Every lake but one in Texas is man made. Oil booms. They happen like a flash in the frying pan. Hotter than a country girls cookstove as my mother always said. I never met a country girl who could cook very well. Too primp. Too proper. They eat out. Fuck that noise. 

I cook. Got laid from it once. Worth it too. Best fucking blowjob I ever had. Not like B’s though. Sucked his dick so hard made his asshole hurt we always say. No one can ever live up to that either. That one is a unicorn that will never be captured again. He slaughtered that poor beast long ago and he is probably still looking for it to this day. Like King Arthur. Who the fuck was King Arthur. There is twerking going on out there you know? ` 

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