You ever wonder what it all really means
I started this whole business to talk about some things.
I felt that this medium would be the best way for me to process the rollercoasters and volcanoes constantly causing chaos in my head.
In short, this would be a way to hone my craft and tell some stories all while working though some shit along the way.
That’s the thesis for skunkworks. It’s Raison d'être.
Although another part of me feels that to give it that much of a definition is very out of vogue and against the whole point of doing the thing in the first place.
Ultimately, I am comfortable with that duality. I am comfortable with not knowing how I feel and constantly looking for new answers along the way. I think ultimately that’s the healthiest perspective to have, to never fully form an opinion on something. Forge your gut instinct over time; continue to collect intelligence that both aligns itself with your gut and totally contradicts it.
skunkworks is an outlet for the way I feel about things as a way of relating to others. Putting myself out there and tuning into other frequencies. Embracing the dualities.
About drinking too much and just the right amount.
About telling stories of the past to comment on the future.
About processing knowledge gleaned from the pens of Hunter S. Thompson, Charles Bukowski, Kurt Vonnegut and Ernest Hemingway.
About endlessly searching for another career, another purpose, intermittently placated by my current employment but always dreaming of fulfilling my soul elsewhere. Every company has its own set of unique problems. Sometimes they aren’t even very unique. But all of the bullshit is worth it when you care about the product you’re selling. Hell, maybe you even use (or consume) it.
About becoming more realistic in my dreaming; not settling, but reinterpreting my ambitions to fit the reality of my situation.
About reminiscing on time spent with the boys, wondering when we all became men.
About telling people not to worry so much and then worrying a whole damn lot.
About loving my woman and trying to kill the restlessness inside of me that keeps me from settling down with her. I know I will one day, I just can’t see that guy yet.
About searching for beauty in ugly places because they’re beautiful.
About how getting too busy can blind you peripherally which can strip you of your poeticism. Myopia can also unlock a certain perspective or cause an amount of restlessness that forces a vibe check: “Am I spending my time correctly?”
About constantly making decision and questioning those decisions, for better or worse.
About always keeping some room to fuck off somewhere, wander and drink beer.
About deciding to eat lunch inside not to avoid the sunshine, but to avoid the people.
About not being so hard on myself, even when I deserve it. Which is always.
About reminiscing on the times good and bad; embellishing the right details to strengthen the narrative while removing others to protect the innocent.
About looking to others not for anger or guidance but for perspective.
About accomplishing so much but still feeling so little.
About trying not to hate myself, or at least writing about trying not to hate myself.
About looking at things, no matter how painful. The past tends to always be more painful, more tender. Memory distorts things in an interesting way. My memory tends to shift things into a higher gear of drama with extreme stakes and grave consequences. But none of it really matters, it’s the past now. What does matter is how you use the knowledge and experience of the past to shape your path forward. Oasis said don’t look back in anger. I think they meant fear and loathing as well.
skunkworks means a lot of things. Some I’m surely not even aware of myself but are somewhere out there, scratching at the surface and never to be fully defined. Though it creates an immense anxiety, this is what is means to be human. Fulfillment is death. Only the search upon a long and treacherous road means something.
This project may or may not ever end. I think two outcomes are equally plausible: that it could end tomorrow, or it will never end and I will be its eternal slave sitting at this word processor until my fingers or my liver gives. Whatever the case may be, it will have served a purpose far greater than I will ever be able to grasp or acknowledge. For all those who have come along, as few as you may be, my gratitude and pity is immense.