hey, hollywood

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and everyone of of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
I don't know who I am, or where I'm going but I do know this;
I know that I can play guitar and read a book at the same time.
I know that I jump off of things because I'm convinced that one day I will fly.
I know that I can draw and paint.
I know that I can sing and dance and laugh.
I know that I am faithful but I stray.
I know that I know that I'm not going to fail.
I know that I do too many drugs.
I know that I'm an asshole.
I know that one day I'll pick up my guitar and actually write my own songs.
I know that I hate most of humanity.
I know that its not society's fault that they're ignorant (but I sure wish they would do something about it).
I know that I need to wear my glasses all the time
I know that my best friend is the only person I can be totally honest with all the time
I know that I can go without sleep for 4 days before collapsing
I know that I can drink a whole bottle of Whiskey and not fall down
I know that if I drink a whole bottle of vokda I will probably die.
I write.