i have recently found my self with an ex-or-bi-tant amount of time on my hands. night after night i find myself sitting outside on the small ten by twelve wooden deck in my back yard burning cowboy killers and watching the smoke rise up in the night time air until it disappears among the familiar stars overhead. this has become somewhat of a ritual to me in the past few months. with my marlboro cigarette in hand, my seven inch flying falcon serrated blade pocket knife in my left hand pocket to ward off the perverts in the woods, and my cheap mead telestar by my side, i often find myself thinking back to times that have long passed. whether or not this nightly ritual is good for me in my current state of mind has yet to be determined. all sorts of strange and interesting thoughts cross my mind and are quickly swept away by the cool night breeze, only to be replaced by another. "what the fuck am i doing in god forsaken missouri with all these jesus freaks and conservative holy rolling bastards?" is by far the most frequent question to cross my mind. that question is truly perplexing to me and i never try to think on it for any extended period of time in fear that i might be cast down into hell by the almighty him self with a righteous bolt of lightning. (at least thats the gist of what these fuckers out here are telling me.) but as i said, that thought never lasts long and is easily replaced by much more important questions like: what the fuck was that noise in the woods? i wonder how many more cigarettes i can smoke before i get cancer? i wonder how many i could smoke between my diagnosis and death? what would it be like to ride a brand new ducati 1098 s tricolore at 190 mph down route 70 in the blinding rain? have either of the voyager probes reached the heliopause yet? how high can birds fly? along with many more questions that are to strange to mention for fear of finding my self in jail or a nut house. did you know that its now illegal to think certain things? and on the word of a complete stranger that you did in fact think about (plot) certain acts you can be arrested, prosecuted, and jailed by the almighty and righteous U.S. government? but thats another topic, we will not get into at this point. so what were we rambling about prior to my slight deviation? ah yes, my 2 am thoughts on the deck at 216 dryden. its not the trivial questions that really bother me, not even the what am i doing in missouri question. those are easily dealt with and beaten into the back of my mind until i have a spare moment in front of a computer to do a quick google search on birds flight patterns. The questions that really bother me, besides (what the fuck was that noise in the woods) are the what ifs that seem to constantly sneak into the back of my mind where they sink their parasitic teeth and feed of all that?s good in me until a simple thought grows into a full blown fantasy of what my life may or may not have been like had i or had i not committed certain acts or thoughts. what would have happened had i not taken a long dark trip on a strange and potentially lethal mix of unnamed drugs and alcohol, and had i not in the midst of a most bizarre blackout, punched a hole in the closet wall of apartment 4d in the cold mountain town of the burgh? where would i be right now had i not put enough powder up my nose to give a thoroughbred a heart attack at approximately 2 am on saturday april the 15th of 2006 right before my confrontation with the lying pigfucker officer okeefe and the rest of the worthless human garbage that work the night shift at the island cottage station? what strange and bizarre turn would my life had taken had the man in number *# parkwood lane not convinced me to put down the 30 pound ceramic flower pot i so vehemently wanted to shed some blood with? what if that hot fucking district attorney had said yes when i asked her to go for a drink after my trial and let me suck on her tits?(the vagueness of my description makes all of these situations sound like bad events. in reality, im sure i would be in a far worse place had certain of these events not happened.) the plain and simple answer to these questions is i can never know. no way in hell could i ever say that this or that would be different. the only thing for sure is id be a different person than i am today, for better or worse. take it or leave it. i could be dead or in prison, i could be rich, poor, marry a fucking model or be a queer. so what?s the point in thinking about it? but the questions keep after me. they have sunk their teeth in and have tasted blood and will not let me be, i believe, until i have come to a suitable conclusion. so what is a person to do. what indeed. stand outside night after night in the cold night air burning cowboy killers with my hand in my pocket on my seven inch flying falcon serrated blade pocket knife scanning the woods for dirty fucking perverts and cougars and just keep thinking shit up until i have thought of it all, or i go insane. fuck it. thats all there is to say about that, but there is plenty more left to talk about.....
brian w. scott � 2007