Get Off Me Bro

Again, yes....but necessary, absolutely  

Writer's block.  Wait....... hold on now...... yes, this song is the one. Let the goose bumps rise!  Let me turn up the volume, good...... prefect.  Now if you could give me just a second to finalize the mood while I take my first sip from miss brown eyes' lips so that the Dark Orchestra style of writing can activate in full effect.  Here we go........................................................ ah, thank you.  Now let me smash my fucken head though this computer screen.  I will pop my head through to say hello, hello.  Good moving on.  Now I will drink 5 pounds of N.O. Explode while training at my old bodybuilding gym back in college.  All by myself, with so much built up thoughts, drive, ideas and emotions that I could only show through the mirror in front of me.  Curl, curl, curl, ha, ha, ha, ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  So mad I was, but why?  The weights make a thud as they hit the rubber floor below me.  Get the fuck off me bro.  Mean I tell you, mean is what I was and still am.  I had no idea what I wanted to be, no idea at all.  Get off me bro.  A lost kid with the world in his chest.  They didn't like me, fuck it, I didn't like them. I'll tell you what though, the weight room likes me.  The weight room is my dad, coach, role model, classroom, bedroom, cry room, a fuck you world room, a get off me bro room.  Always on my last and toughest rep I would think to myself, just one day I am going to get you life, grab you by the fucken neck and kill you.  One day this angry kid will rise, and when I do, I am taking everyone down, and the ones who cared for me, with me.  Every tear that fell down my face, a mirror broke from my hand, and every hand I broke, I had to pay the gym owner back.  But I always came back.  Hello you sons of bitches, the freak is back, the daddy issues kid has arrived, and I am ready to punch the bag in the corner, jump rope 'til my nose bleeds, and get MY FUCKEN BRO DAY ON BABY!  HA!  Back and bi day, chest and shoulders, more N.O. EXPLODE, more Cutler videos, more pumps, more food and more mirror smashing.  More fights I got into, more protein powder that I swallowed down by using the water fountain.  Disgusting, but who cares.  The taste never bothered me, because the nasty taste in my mouth throughout the day was 10 times worse.  A big F on my forehead is what I was reminded of everyday.  A failure in school, a failure in football, and a failure with my father.  Tah, Protein...... get off me bro, are you serious with this shit?  I worked at a supplement store once, and I thought I was going to jump on the back of the next "tough guy" that asked if I had grape in stock yet.  Get off me bro.  Are you serious?  

Treadmill walking while the local news played behind me.  1AM and for some reason there is always you and that one last guy in the very back of the gym, still training, still crying, why are we crying you ask?  Well I'll tell yea, because me and this other sad guy are in the gym at 1AM on a Friday while the rest of the world is cheering at the bar or watching a movie with their family.  Isn't it funny that the last guy in the whole gym never speaks to you, never says a word the whole time working out and while leaving?  When the place is busy during prime time, everyone says "hey".  This has always intrigued me.  Why don't the lost and sad individuals like myself ever speak to me........ shit..... but then again, I never spoke to them.  I am them and they are me.  Holy shit this is fucken crazy.  I wonder what the "last guy" thought about me?  I wonder if he is at home writing a blog about me........o shit...... wait........... or better yet, reading this blog!  Hello are you out there!  If you are reading this, if it's really you out there, let me say just one thing to you Mr. Last Guy in the gym with me who never spoke to me and always seemed to walk past my treadmill about 5 minutes before I left making the gym creepy and even more depressing, I am here for you if you ever need me. I hope you feel the same towards me.  We must stick together, even though we don't know each other, because the world doesn't understand us. We understand each other, better than we both might ever imagine.  Our goals might be different, or paths of life might lead in different ways, our movie taste might not be the same, but we are always the last two guys in the gym for a reason, and that reason is...... I don't know.  I can't answer such a huge question like that, it's beyond the human mind.  Or maybe just beyond this F stamped mind school has labeled me as.  All I know is that we have an understanding that no one can take away, or understand.  I will never get a chance to talk to you, why?  Because if we talk to each other we are breaking the gym rule, and the gym rules are everything.  Break them, and you have no home.  I will see you again as you walk past me, and a small smile will come over my face as I confidently drink more coffee. 

The Dark Orchestra lives in the late night gym.  We train better when the "social butterflies" leave to go  grab their fucken grape protein shakes.  Turn up the local news that has played over and over again.  Let the vacuum from the janitor bring you peace while you curl your pain to your chest while you sway back and forth with that look of "get off me bro" on your face.  This is BRO NATION, this is ATTITUDE NATION, this is when bodybuilders and weightlifters come together and take over the world.  We can all relate to being freaks, outcasts, emotional basket cases, and YES........ the LAST MOTHER FUCKERS IN THE GYM.  

Local News 2016