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[roscoerieux]

[roscoerieux]

Entry 001: The Courteous degenerate

These illustrious and dreamy pages have been an unwavering companion throughout the last decade. They've been a haven where both my vices and virtues dance freely, have spirited discussions and dine to the fluctuation of my wellbeing.

Posting these entries have no goal, no desired outcome. It'd be appropriate to call these entries an online archive of sporadic thoughts that may resonate with some, and annoy others.

There are many wise conclusions that have come to fruition in this very place just as the many writers have arrived at, before me.

I've read the stories, seen the characters, and the many lives to pattern my life after. But it is a new dawn, and a new experience that is all my own.

So who am I to become? And what shall this life entail?

Is it a dangerous life, brimming with drugs, sex and money. Or perhaps merely a dream of such a life, written in the prose of a man, distant from the danger.

I don't believe I was ever one to stray too far from the dangers of the world. There is truly a homely essence about them. The dealers and degenerates, the violent and conflicted, there's an honesty there that I appreciate, and respect.

Many men and women who preach safety, tend to swim in pools of opulence, and hardly wear their souls upon their face. They hide it, even from themselves, shameful in their debaucherous acts, no matter how abundant.

Why do you think sex workers are still employed? Politicians and shit.

The nature of the wealthy is not far from the decrepit. The only difference is they do it a little more blatantly.

***

My roots are far from luxurious. I come not from wealth, nor extreme poverty, though the middle end of the latter.  The sacrifices of some have permitted me tools that I wield to speak with you, and tools I use to find this hidden path, buried in an empty page I'm yet to write.

A diagram that paints the infinite path, woven into the fabric of my DNA, that takes me from bedroom ponderer to visionary artist.

Of course I say money is not the goal, but I'd be kidding myself, the readers and listeners if I said the thought was not in the room. It is not the focus, but a blurred character in the background.

Dare I say the second desire is a bit more polarising - The freedom in debauchery. Again, I'd be kidding myself if I said I don't dream of self expression and a higher consciousness. Of soul quenching fucks and spiritual awakenings.

I suppose I justify myself in saying that such desires are not to the detriment of anyone. More a collective debauchery, of degenerate poets, and intellectual muses. Women of power and Men of wisdom dining to the words and sounds of beauty.

As of the late the cities seem to be overrun with far more gremlins than usual. I've seen the gutters of a foreign city, and strolled the marble columns of nowhere. And still the beings I've seen lately have remained rather conventional.

Where are they, these debaucherous clans of courteous degenerates? Where are they hiding? And where may I find them?