I wear a vulgar display of satisfaction on my sleeve in generic conversations. All the funny little imaginary ornaments, hanging above promises on billboards and sayings like “How was your day?” The forced charisma stings the air all around us, all hanging on some sort of strange balance, to please others.
Most days, I want to grab a giant spoon and stir up all the fake appropriate behavior to which we’ve all become accustom to. Laugh it all away in some mad grasp for reality, for truth. A fart at an inappropriate time, a dirty joke in a clean room. Something, to stir up this distant pounding of grey-matter clay we have to wear in “the real world”. It’s dry now, brittle, restricting.
Is it just me? Or can you feel it in the air. Our primitive side wants to come out! It wants some walking around money. It wants to breathe! At times, I ask myself what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. At other times, I calculate the truth. That every amazing experience I’ve ever had didn’t begin with rational thinking.
At the moment, reality is setting in. The pounding footsteps of reality in the distance are getting closer. Beating down to the soundtrack of my own insanity. I’m down to practically no money, in the middle of the desert, 2,000 miles from home. Somehow I still manage to have faith, everything will work out somehow.
I started this blog, to organize my own thoughts. Anyone who wishes to can read and live with me in my head.
But know this, when you begin this nomadic lifestyle. It becomes addicting. In this world of 0’s and 1’s, the primitive sides of our souls are starting to swell up and scream “freedom, freedom!” You likely won’t be able to ignore it for long. Before something dies inside you.
The course, hot tar, that connects us all to places beyond our sight promises freedom in a maze of a world, like the pink fleshy mazes of our brains. Dizzying with wonder, wanderlust and foreign sunsets. Shades of water that are unfamiliar and people with funny accents. Like Alice down the rabbit hole of life, constantly falling.
Who are we? If not our own conscious efforts to bend and forge our own realities. What pulp of organic stupidity floats around aimlessly in our veins when we willingly give it all up for things that don’t matter? Handing it away on silver platters, to fulfill the dreams of others.
No! No! I say, we say, my dog says. Wait a minute, my dog just said something. I’ve got to go investigate.
Hopefully all is well with everyone!