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Friday, June 14, 2013

Exit 33 C

A slam of the bar leaves the owner out two hundred, as it lays broken next to a life that has been fixed. A gym owner that has changed a life with the sacrifice of a single bar.  A 2 hundred dollar boost of happiness.  A 2 hundred dollar therapy session.  A 2 hundred dollar band aid for the skeletons that have been cut so deep over the years. A 2 hundred dollar peace of mind that makes everyone sleep better at night. A rest easy night, as the smoke from the cold outside pours out from your leaned back head in reflection of the grace and peace you now feel from the war zone you just left.  For every broken bar a heavy heart becomes heavier.  One dies for the other to live.  One must break for the other to gain strength.  A bar that now lays in ruins rests quietly as happy smiles appear on every one's face.  Smiles people will take home with them as a new smile breaks while slipping the gym smiles into the junk drawer for a rainy day.  Smiles they will keep close, in case hard times approach.  Only respect the bar once it's broken my friend.  A broken bar means a life has been changed.  A broken bar tells a story of hardship and achievement.  Many battles have been lost, but the war has been won.  We must honor and salute every broken bar that has died for us.  We must never forget the bars that now sleep under a blanket of dust. 

Sweat that falls like coffee down our throat has become normal in this life, as we drive with our AC up and windows down with destination domination in our sights.  A tight hand grips the wheel, as the other dances to the song that echoes through your day dreams.  Eyes lay pierced to the road ahead, as concentration plays on the glass in front of you. See it, believe it, then fucken do it.  The driver's head nodded as his eyes relaxed, his free hand broke free from the dance, and began to shuffle around the passenger seat looking for the red bull he took pride on buying the day before to save a buck from the high prices of the gas stations.  A back up drink when the coffee is all gone too fast before the workout has even started.  Something that this character I created does often.  He got out of his jeep and walked into the gym. 

One falls, the other helps. One cries, the other hugs.  A massive PR achieved, as high fives follow like dominoes. Two legs, two people, training with two different goals in sight, as one another yell at each other with spit flying like chalk on hands, and eyes wide open like meeting your dad at the half way point for the weekend on Exit 33 C off I-5.  Neck veins full of coffee about to burst as the intensity rises like an ocean of emotion.  Feet leave the floor, not from the workout, but from excitement. Organized motivation that flows swiftly like organized crime.  Sweat on sweat as hugs and bring it in high fives bathe one another in a salt bath of understanding. "It's all good," as their sweat is now yours. Their tears have become relatable.  A gym full of skeletons that train side by side like Siamese twins battling weights like Russell Crow battling slavery.   No longer kept locked away in the closet.  No longer kept quiet, no longer kept hidden.  Now out for the world to see, for people to judge, and for the truth to shine, leaving you with complete freedom from yourself.  Dried up river indents snake down their eyes, that has now been replaced with sweat.  Sweat that tastes like fucken success.  A taste of look at me now.  A waterfall of proven wrongs and forgotten fatherly approval.  A sweat storm of a new beginning and a higher hope.  Sweat speaks only one  Sweat never talks, it only does.  If you aren't sweating, you aren't living.  

You the reader.  Hello.  I am sorry for my absence.  The dark keeps me balanced, without the dark I would lose myself in the light.  I feel at home here, with you the skeletons.  The outside world has been crazy lately.  I thought about entering the Orchestra, but I stayed away for some reason, a reason I still don't have the answer to.  I felt the battle above must be fought before showing my face here again. I didn't want to let you down.  I didn't want to write to you a fake emotion.  I wanted to see you again with a plan, a victory, for us, for the Nation of skeletons.  I want to thank everyone for fighting with me throughout the last week.  I read every single comment, post, email, Facebook message, ect. I can't tell you how much it means to me.  Your support is overwhelming, and for that I am forever grateful. Thank you for fighting side by side with me.  I fight for you, we fight for freedom, a shirtless lifestyle, a right of bar slamming and coffee chugging.  A simple lifestyle that gives us the freedom to do whatever we want, without anyone telling us different.  I will always fight for this blog that has only one purpose and one purpose accept our skeletons, and move forward.   Salute my very, very good friend.  

Skeletons 2016

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