Black Rebel Motorcycle Club ASK iAN * Bono, Butterflies, Panic Attacks, Death, Life and Fire*

Ask iAN

Online Spiritual Tech Support

The subject matter is not suitable for some children, nor is it intended for adults ages 18 and over.
While visiting 'Ask Ian' we ask participants to please refrain from using discretion, as it will only make matters worse.

ASK iAN * Bono, Butterflies, Panic Attacks, Death, Life and Fire* Photobucket

Yer out there, sussing out this / sussing out that
yer learning about the world as you wander through are meeting people...some favorable some foul
so i wouldn't confuse that with being lost...I mean hell, we are all lost...
yer not a little girl, and yer ain't lost... Just because a person is wealthy and surrounded by luxury doesn't mean they don't have dark nights inside of themselves...especially when the end
draws nigh
and you wonder what in the fuck that whole life thing was all about.


Take Bono for instance.
Where is he gonna go that you can't go?
White House 5 thousand dollar a plate supper with the president?
Locked in a room that smells like lemon pledge furniture polish and listening to invisible people drivel on
about world economics as they suckle expensive wines...Christ, drag me to the tavern with Shane MacGowen and lay some pints of cider out
and lets hear some songs through broken teeth.
Bono can attend expensive spas where you can have sex with people that look like they fell out of a magazine
and then what...vaginal snore, cock snore, empty snore, beast snore...flat out fuckun with sale.

Bono is in the same world as big ghastly planet...where we can go around to the left or to the right and then we criss cross, we travel back home, we leave again, we get new jobs that become old jobs, we sleep with people and we let go, some remain friends most turn back
into strangers, we have pets, pets die...friends die, family die, sometimes you die and when you don't you heave that satchel over yer shoulder
and you walk on down the road...and sooner or run into Bono.
You have a chat over a bottle of water and then go your seperate ways...and it's back to the hustle and shuffle or you get a small place
throw all your shit on the floor
and sit down until the medical examiner comes and extracts you with a spatula
from your corroded divan...and Bono is on the tube singing it's a beautiful day.

Bono just doesn't have financial stress
he can afford medical bills and pay the rent and travel without the stress and worry that we get pummled with...but hey, that is ok too...cause once you have no struggle start wearing shirts like Bono.
So where you struggle to make sense of the world around you, Bono does that too, just on a global level he changed his thinking, had to, he is at least making an effort to become a solution, an answer instead of a problematique rockstar...he gets more people fed than the fuckers who knock him down for what he does...ever will.
My fucking point is that both of you
are fighters
Photobucket and there is only this fucking ring in which to perform our business (the planet, the city, the streets, )
It doesn't matter that life may be pointless
what matters is the fight, the way that you got in there and had some goddamned flash, had some fight within you
that you fought angels and demons inside of yourself
and outside of yourself
You don't see butterflies commiting suicide.  Talk about a short life and not all the grueling and tedious conditions it had to go through
just to become that short lived butterfly...I love butterflies because they don't give a gram of fuck.
They do what they were born to us...burn bright
no reward
no cash prize
no promises
no afterlife
now now now
fucking NOW.

It aint easy finding your place in this world and even when you find it
it doesn't make the world make any more sense than it ever did...

I know this gentleman
he is dying as i write this...I have known him since i was a lad...
He was a hard working white collar businessman, very high up on the ladder of success...
He did right by his wife, they had children who all have gone on to be successful at their pursuits...
He has had a great and roaring life...and he is a loveable person...
He is lying in bed...riddled with cancer...his body has gone to is a living nightmare...
Do you think for a second
he is thinking about that job he worked for most of his life?
He found his niche, he was wealthy, he lived life the best he knew how...and now after all the puzzle pieces are in place
and he can enjoy his retirement...he is playing chess with death and there are only a few more pieces left on the board...and death is cornering in his
I wish i would have learned more about what makes birds fly...the designs of their skeletons...
I wish instead of driving all over town i would have gazed for hours into my lover's eyes without trying to touch her...
Why can't anybody save me and drive me away from here in a fast car at the speed of light and get this fucker death off my chest for a second so i can
catch my breath, the fucker won't let up!
What will become of my bones forever?
All those dead dogs
and the trees...i will never see another Autumn...the leaves falling...
what is water?
what is money?
I wish i could just clock back into work and be my normal self
drinking a cup of coffee...laughing with friends...
i'm gonna miss the fucking sun on my face.....

I know this man...this business man...this friend of mine
I know he has no regrets...i think he may feel shorted and slighted...and rightfully so...he deserved more time...he deserved that.
Life and Death don't give a fuck.
I know that he got up everyday and got his armor on
and took the fight out into the sunlight...he shook a leg, he gave a fuck, he exploded, he laughed, he burned,
he did right by people, he lent a hand, he didn't take any shit and he didn't waste his time with those that thought they were
sly enough to waste his...he didn't let fools eat away at his time...he fought the good fight....he got involved
he tangled with life, he made decisions and the kind that benefited the whole, not just himself...and he could make me laugh until
i cried...and now i just cry for's just him and death now...soon he will ring death's bell and be pure...I will always miss him...he will live inside of
me and only add strength to my punches and kick...and i will keep his fire lit.

Keep your distance from
men on the street
the kind of men that want to help you get through your divorce by sticking their
cock in you
and leaving you by Monday without so much as a cup of
starbucks coffee in your panic attack hand.

Panic attacks
I got them worse than anybody
i knew
I couldn't go into stores, malls, anywhere, i lost jobs, i got sick on busses, couldn't fly, i couldn't drive without pulling over, dizzy and i thought dying,
i was a fucking wreck, until one day i just told my panic attack to get fucked.
I got mad and told myself to fuck off.
I told myself i was taking something stupid
and i told myself to fuck off
I punched a wall and went for beers down at the bar and put on some sex pistols.
Splash some water on your face and punch the fucking walls, tell yourself to fuck off and stamp your feet...
If that doesn't work
go home and cuddle up in a blanket and eat cereal and watch your favorite old time movie
i'm not kidding...when you have a panic attack the only place you wanna be is at home doing something normal and natural
kind of like dying...all you wanna do is go home...
it took me quite a spell and many panic attacks before i got so pissed off that i fought it away...
I have only had one more and that was years ago....but since then, so far so good...i don't have time to play
mindgames with myself any i fight.

I pray you will do the same...we all wanna relax...
you can relax when yer is the time for fucking fire.

good health and good love to you...see you on the road to wisdom, friend.*


Should you see Bono before i do, make sure he buys you a pint.  Cheers*

It would do us all well to remember that we should live to our fullest capacity when we have the health to do so...
Live for yourself and for those who wanted to so terribly bad
but could
Fight for yourself and for those too weak to have a voice the betrayed, the underdog, the victim, the bullied...the heart and the the words of Arthur Lee Love...what's right is right and what's wrong is wrong. Photobucket

Copyright © 2014 Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.