I Am What I Am
Dec 20th, 2008 by Jack Lhasa
This post does not fit into any category that I usually post in. It’s not necessary to understand everything else you normally read here. It’s just a story. It’s a story about Leaders. It’s a story about Hunters. It’s a story about Shamans, Rockstars, Writers, Spinners. All of us.. All of the cocky sons of bitches’ in this sad little world.
I lied. It’s not a story at all.
What is it? It’s a call.
This was brought on by a post my Mexican brother, Renato, sent me sometime late last night. It was a story of love, and loss, of pride, and attitude. Please, just read it yourself. Fair warning. It is slightly graphic. But it’s goddamned beautiful.
What Renato made me think of with that post is not something I can really even begin to explain. But, being the cocky bastard that I am, I’m gonna fucking try.
It reminded me of something I had forgotten. Something that I am afraid Renato may have forgotten by the end of that post. I hope not.
I had forgotten everything that got me where I am today. Some people might call it vanity or pride. Some people might say an undeserved sense of self worth. What I am getting at is attitude. I have always believed that my stories are meant to be read, by sanction of god, or satan, or odin, or zues, or who gives a fuck. I’ve always had a feeling deep inside me that what I am doing is right. No matter what anyone had to say about it. That I was walking that golden path that so many before me have walked.
Is it pride? Sure. Is it vanity? You’re damned right. Is it undeserved? Go fuck yourself.
The attitude that we own this. That we belong. That we are meant for far greater things. It doesn’t matter if we are wrong, because this is the only attitude that ever changes the world. Some will fall, some will rise. It matters not.
Change is brought on by the cocky bastards out there. Do the world a favor, and buy one of us a beer. We’re easy to spot. Look for the guy that has absolutely no right to be dancing with the best looking girl in the bar. Look for the lead singer that takes all of the drinks the crowd offers up, and still doesn’t fuck up a song. Look for the guy surrounded by empty beer glasses and notepads that everyone stops to talk to and buy a beer for.
Look for us. If we are not screaming for attention, we are drowning in despair. We will be remembered, because we will not settle for less.
We spot each other with a word. We are brothers.
Jack
I Listen.
I listen better if that’s a six pack in that grocery bag.
