Dear World,

*puffs a dusty cigarette*

Please Kill Me,

Yea, yea I know I said I was quitting but fuck it I’m going for it. Not gonna lie fighting a giant anxiety attack. I know I don’t show it much (at least not sober. Once I’m a fifth of gin into it, I spray on you guys like a ripe herpes sore.) but I’m a bit stressed.

Not in the traditional sense, this is a more internal affair. You know the little voice that says ” You’re gonna do what?! Fuck you, I’m not doing that, I’m going onto Pornhub and taking a nap, they like me there. ” yea that voice can be more trouble than it’s worth.

Rather than releasing (afterward cleaning) my billions on DNA strands, the past few months I’ve been figuratively (takes another puff of the dusty cigarette, remembering that he has new ones) , and literally I guess, killing myself to keep everything in motion.

Between this, the poetry, the podcast, the books, and all of my other professional endeavors, I have to confess that I feel a bit spent (not to mention my job, which I am both actively tolerating and preparing to quit). Not asking you to cry me a river, just venting on the situation. Not for nothing but that is what this blog was created to for, the truth of the Road to the Mastery of the Craft. Speed bumps and all.

I have made a few intriguing (albeit relatively inconsequential) discoveries about myself on this pit stop to greatness. Nothing is ever completely devoid of a lesson. I found that under pressure Sober-twan (my increasingly present alter-ego) embraces minimalism.

No, not the Anne Truit, Robert Mangold, nor Yeezus kind. (Damn I’ve been referencing Kanye more than…. Well, Kanye does). But in the sense of lifestyle.

It goes without saying that I’m rocking the long hair and Cast Away beard, turns out that isn’t just for Hollywood, it’s a thing.(Don’t worry I’m in denial, so for now it’s the face of productivity.)

Workman’s beard aside, my life otherwise had been clutterless. Internally and externally. I’m surrounded solely by the essential. As for what wasn’t, well I don’t rightly know what the hell happen to it. All of the cumbersome shit in my life just kind of vanished (#CaseyAnthonyDefense).

I don’t mean to come off doushey (yes I do) , but the poets mind in me sought for the purpose behind this, and in doing so made the instant connection, (all that was missing were the dark clouds and “water that burns like fires kiss”).

So here we are after (years of drinking) months of planning and weeks of execution, true minimalism. No unnecessary relationships, no irrelevant purchases, no unearned action, just the process and the work there in. Who knew it was a symptom and not something to be attained?

For those of you interested, fear not, it’s not all bad. People will be visibly impressed (and/or wildly dumbfounded) but this guy I’m becoming is surprisingly intact, focused, and pleasantly aloof. I suppose the takeaway is to stay open to it. Remember rule #9,  GET IT DONE! (Ah the wonders of call backs).

Thinking slumberous thoughts,

Antwan Crump.

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