I enjoyed an unusually personal day on Saturday that gave me a minute to breathe, which was much-needed. I began my day they way most of them have lately, with the old KISS song, War Machine. Of recent I have been turning this song up so loud on my iPod while I ride my motorcycle that cars next to me at stop lights can hear my music even with their windows rolled up, their heaters on full blast and my helmet confining the earphones.
I like the music loud because I want to hear the words and I don’t want any interruptions into my mode of thinking. On my motorcycle I can feel most of what I need to know from the world around me, so sound won’t cue me as to if there is danger, I just always assume there is, so I’m always ready for it. As I began this recent Saturday from my reading chair surrounded by my stacks of books, my multiple guns that are close by just in case, my maps, my phone, my two televisions broadcasting the news to me at all hours of the day I ushered in my predawn day to KISS on my iPod so not to wake up my wife upstairs.
I usually begin my day around 4:30 A.M. every day of the week no matter what is happening. I do this because I don’t like to let time slip away without capturing all I can from it. Occasionally, as it was a week ago when an outside contractor came to give me a quote, he noticed my guns and had to ask, “Are you enemy number one or what? Are you expecting a riot?” To answer that question would require a long complicated answer that is best described in the picture shown below involving the cop and the old lady. It is the privilege of being an American to be armed to the teeth, to secure your own freedom from any possible invasion of your time and space.
But…….to what end?
The busy bodies wouldn’t understand why the loud music, why the guns, why getting up at 4:30 A.M and going to bed at midnight are important. Why the reading, why the news, why all the deep conversations about philosophy, when it’s football post season play that is the talk of the town. Who will win the Superbowl, the Patriots or the Giants? “I DON’T KNOW OR CARE UNLESS THE TAMPA BAY BUCCANEERS ARE PLAYING! I’m trying to focus on the science of abstraction!” I turn my music up to tune out the world and I listen to warlike music to remind me that there are many who wish to rob me of my time so I can defend it vigilantly. Because if I don’t stick up for my time, who will?
A friend of mine sent me the video below in the middle of this contemplation and it articulated wonderfully the moment. To the outside world, my measures may appear violent and over-the-top, but as I prepare for a very busy summer in my normal career, my political involvements, fighting yet another stupid Lakota tax increase, and the release of my newest book Tail of the Dragon I made myself a promise upon viewing this video–that I will take time to breath, to visit Alberta, Canada after this next wave of impositions and pursue the visions in that video.
When I try to explain to people why I fight so much, why I think like a War Machine day and night, it’s because I want the freedom of the visions in that video. I want that life free of those parasites that cannot fill themselves so they seek to empty you. I have little tolerance for those who wish to rob me of my time. I have even less tolerance for those who waste their own time. To me the greatest sin a human being can partake in is saying, “I’m so bored.”
After watching that Alberta video I read my email, caught up on the news I missed while I slept, and took a few calls. But after that the day was before me with no contractors to speak with, nothing severely broken to fix, no family to visit, no meetings to attend, and no literary work on my part since my book is now on a closed edit at the copy editor and the publisher is handling the artwork. For the first time since I signed my contract with the publisher in May of 2011, I have not worked on that latest book in my spare time. So I had nothing at all to do which was wonderful, it felt just like the images in that video.
I read a fiction book for a change that was so fun and exciting that I finished the book by 10:45 P.M. Saturday night. For months I had been reading my own book so many different times during a very exhaustive edit, where every single sentence was contemplated for effectiveness, that it was nice to read the fiction work of someone else. Lately when I have been reading, it has been heavy-duty philosophy and history. So a book on the light side of fiction was very refreshing.
My wife and I sat in our usual places, both of us in a friendly race to see who could finish our books faster. She started with one that was about 400 pages, mine was only 350. At the end of the night when we decided to go to bed she had about 40 pages left so she probably outpaced me a bit, but that didn’t matter. I was so wrapped up in my own little world that I was surprised when she made dinner and brought it to me when it was time to eat, as the setting sun outside showed the last traces of orange for the day.
The fighting is in pursuit of the ability to have days like the one mentioned above. Being a War Machine is not to bleed away your enemies, or even to make more of them. Being a War Machine is to fight away the altruistic parasites, the lazy, the easily bored, so that a day can be enjoyed to its fullest. So that I can read my books! So I can think!
I turn up my music over the roar of my motorcycle and the busy traffic of West Chester to hear myself think. To drown out the noise of the leeches who like a candle burning at both ends expect me to consume my life for their entertainment, because they are bored and don’t think for themselves. I think about war at all hours of the day not because I want a medal for some valor, or for the glory of defeating an enemy. My mind is a War Machine because I want freedom. I want unlimited access to my books, to the places of the world like Alberta, Canada and anything that gets in my way will be plowed over. So you better watch out………..because………………..well listen to the words.
And to those who give me dirty looks at the stop lights, I have one more message. When I was younger I had a shirt I wore all the time that said on the back, IF IT’S TOO LOUD, YOU’RE TOO OLD. It was a shirt I bought at a KISS concert. One of my friends parents back then used to scathe at that shirt whenever I’d come to their house. “You better hope you grow out of this rebellious phase Rich Hoffman. For your own good. All that loud music will blow out your ear drums. By the time you’re my age, you’ll be deaf.” Well, I always kind of liked that lady. She was very politically active and genuinely cared about her kids. However she was the epitome of the salivating soccer mom we joke about today who works to pass school levies and mistakenly over thinks her role as a parent. I decided back then I didn’t want the life she and her kind were selling. I am now older than she was then, and I still love my music loud not because I want to become a brainwashed demon worshipper like in the video below, but because I want to tune out the caution dwellers, those people who come out of high school with one foot in the grave and with every move thereafter is another nail in their own coffin. I know many such types who have allowed themselves to become “older” and “civilized,” or in other words……………what’s the word……………….“mature?” Those people are all unhappy and if they have not found their muse in life, I consider them more dangerous than any creature on earth because they seek to fill their emotional voids with money taken from us in taxes, with food off the self at the grocery, the diamond rings in the glass case at Costco, or the puritan beliefs of maturity, but no matter what the disguise, they are simply parasites who wish to rob you of your life. That’s why this War Machine LOVES IT LOUD! And I love it loud to push the world away so I can be close to my books. I always played my music loud not to gain attention, but to keep away those who were too timid to win my company, because my time has always been too valuable to waste by those who just consume.
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