|I, THE JUNGLE|
by Derek Nast Generations and genres later writing style and word usage form differently yet the core of a literary amateur always strives to tell his tale. I, no native to the mile-high and with two decades of residency in hand have spent half of that time jotting notes, plotting, depicting experiences, rhyming and revising with a never-failing spoken heart of life’s next circumstance. I’ve not always remained inspired but am more so each time when “Pen meets paper.” Despite the plights coming and going I still strive use such measures to manage this calamity. Such calamity refers to the jungle wall. (Addiction.) barricading itself from the normalcy of a life I’ve yet to know. In all fairness I’ve encountered Snippets of a stable reality. But this piece is not of pandemonium, but to that of an opening partly unknown. So where to begin? When developing ability there requires practice and trial and error, most of all the time to grow skillful. However skill is no guarantee within such a grandiose arena of literature. One of the most historic fields to date. Conditions of the heart along the lost, aim to find themselves among one another. The journey of traveling souls)
Do not confuse this with interdependence, where individuals operate on a higher plane of selflessness. They are able to gain a greater sense of understanding upon one another. When dependent upon certain pleasures in life where do such endeavors end?
It was only recently how I’d experienced the scope in which my life felt in comparison to that of a portrayal of a literary amateur himself, once a freewriter who had written his way to greatness through his words for generations to follow, even in rites of passage. Like Keroac, I too have familiarized myself with the Denver scene, one far more modern, but nevertheless a world amongst the Rockies. In his novel. “On the Road.” it had taken the better part of which to grasp how the road itself acted as the jungle for Keroac and accomplice Dean Moriarty. A road to stretch east and west winding back again, wrapped with colorful humanity, all at 90 miles an hour or more. Think of the camaraderie that was built just above the pavement below. Whatever unseen force which existed between Sal and Dean, it took on turn after turn with one siren blaring behind the next. As Sal followed blindly into the distance he would surely pay the toll of the road. However opposed to Keroac my own road ran circles into the one-way streets of Denver, far many of times crashing into the jungle wall.
Without incarceration as a factor the wall still yielded consequences to ripple. Repercussions which involved family, intimate relationships, health concerns, spiritual bankruptcy, financial inadequacy and so on. Along the wall remained so many driven in similar manner yet differed and character. Many would commonly collide for the benefit of the same cause, generating a multitude of codependency. More recently it has been isolation to form wide boundaries, becoming separated from others, a complete opposite to previously dependent needs. After 22 years of assorted wandering the neon burn to a night life ended and so began a hustle to the next.
At the night lights end I only traded up one wingman for another. A younger friend who I had cut up the concrete of Denver with on a shop deck usually skating head on into the jungle wall together. To say it plainly, Matt and I came from two separate backgrounds. Despite that I was never fully educated I had a better chance than Matt ever did. And short the chaos of his childhood far surpassed the life that I was accustomed to. Each of his parents became tangled in the jungle vines where only one would manage to wrestle free. His younger sister would not be so lucky. Somewhere now into our thirties, prison life has become a part of my past, yet sadly exist in the present moment for this old friend. With such backgrounds incorporated I view myself more so in comparison to Sal, whereas Matt like Dean Moriarty. Although there are differences along the above comparison our goal as always was to get our kicks. The more we abided in our pleasures the more we grew to lean on each other, when swerving from one substance to the next. Always, it was family, a companion, employment, etc, etc all put on the back burner. If life weren’t spent to a hustle or grind, the majority of our time was spent alongside someone.
This type of dependency, depended on the hustle of an unknown other. For for quite some length not and I have been broken apart, although a great span was spent in the darkness of a shared jungle. Codependency was not only displayed on the streets but behind bars as well.
It’s not that we didn’t know how to operate with one another? We chose not to. The overall dependency which lie between us was used for individual purposes. It was my own dependency that appeared emotional. (due too so much previous isolation and stunted maturity.) Being the older one I rarely acted it, except when I was paranoid or hesitant of capture.
Matt was purely reckless. However the one aspect he wasn’t selfish of was splitting up dope. His actions and intent mainly came and support of himself, where many times we will surely pay the consequences together. Although I am not without blame, I could have made the effort to push him away but I only inched closer, needing to hear that I was right, when all went so wrong again. Error should have taught me to pull out when gravitation grew greater.Along the lines of Similarity opposites ultimately come into play. EX:
– Whereas Sal published his first novel by the end of “On the road.”
I have yet to publish one piece.
– Whereas Dean supported Sals Endeavor to write, Matt thought otherwise.
– Where is Dean put forth the effort to search for his father. (old Moriarty).
Matt always seemed indifferent to his father incarcerated on a 20 year sentence.
– Whereas Dean fathered multiple children he made a brief effort in responsibility, Matt immediately opted to run out on his.
– Whereas Sal had to walk away from his relationship with Terry due to her family and life of the road, Nika walked away from me because I became the jungle.
To quote Keroac” (As the jungle begins to take over, you then become it)
To quote another great: Oscar Wilde said
(With all the differences is considered, character is truly what you are amongst the dark.)
I’ve become a near native of the jungle life, now at a bend in the road I search for light amongst the civilized. About the Author:Originally a native of the Midwest, at 35, he resided in Colorado these past twenty years. A purple mountains majesty will always be his home. Currently in the works is a collection short stories and poetry.
Home Nonfiction I, THE JUNGLE By Derek Nast