Waiting For The Wind To Pick Up

It is amazing to me how after all the years have gone by and all the past instances and crimes and despite the aches or the pains or scars that never healed, I still have a sense of affection for the wild chaos that comes when being bad. I do. I admit to the drive that comes with the sinfulness which makes the heart beat and the blood go through me like a lunatic.I admit to this. . . I admit to the truth of the line, which I once heard in a movie years agowhich said, “being bad feels pretty good.”And it does.Yes.I admit it. I admit to the greed and the lust and the need to poke the bear.I still love the intensity and the adoration which I have for the crazy feelings of being on the edge. And yes. I like the edge.I love the rush of adrenaline.I love feeling hotter than gasoline after the matcstickbreaks and the flames come through.However, I am older now and unfortunatelymy blood pressure is not the same. And neither is my body.My body and my ability are not what they used to beBut . .…