The Event Horizon

I am Icarus.

I am high.

I am joyful and flying and my burning heart is the wind that lifts me up

by the wings on my back.

I fly,

fixated on this big, round, orange ball.

I fly towards it,

though I know I will be burned.

My heart itself is burning,

and my joy itself is perfect,

and I love so much to fly,

that time becomes undone.

Time is just a construct.

This moment is eternal.

I am high and getting higher.

My fate is yet to come.

~ another drunk aspiring writer ~

on substack

Early on, the emphasis was on DRUNK. Semantically, I know I don't aspire to write. I write. However, I do aspire to be known for my writing. I aspire to be known as an exhibitionist. An emotional-exhibitionist. Disrobed and “streaking thru the quad & down into the gymnasium (Will Ferrel; Old School).” I hold nothing back. I don't shy away from unpleasentness. Actually I'm drawn to it. Damn morbid world we live in. Or maybe my stories won't shock you. Because you're a drunk, , or whatever, ex-problem drinker, just like me. Maybe you still drink. You have a god-shaped hole in you. Well then, pull up a fucking seat already.

By Fred Clark Jr.

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~ another drunk aspiring writer ~

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Frederick the Tenth