The Primitive Side

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!

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The Dipping Sun

When the sun starts dipping here in southern California, the chocolate mountains turn purple behind me. In front of me, everything turns into silhouettes, golden light. The impractical emotions reign in like a girl on her period, which always turns into a question mark. Boom! Exclamation points ensue! Before I know it, my head is spinning all around like a Ferris wheel ride that I’m no longer enjoying. On my trips across America, I’ve had these constant hinting feelings of impending doom.

I don’t have AAA, I don’t have backup money. All I have is this insatiable feeling to move forward, to exist, and to live without restraint. As it is, I’m over two thousand miles away from anything I’ve called home and meant it. I’m living in a van, and there’s no way back in site.

I’ve been watching ants, a faint music playing inside my head. A music I’m not sure any instruments of man can play. This music and this life in slow motion remind me I’m alive. That I didn’t get sucked into the cold bitter grey of society which seems to devour anything we have left that’s magical. The mighty society which removes our childhood summers. Like a thief in the night, it snatches away the wild in everyone’s eyes.

Today, I walk around a little higher. I watch as people have their faces in their phones while beautiful things are happening all around them. I watch as people stand in art museums, around heavily priced scribble. I want to yell at the top of my lungs “Am I the only one that can see this is nothing but scribble on canvas?” I imagine they’d all grip their Champaign glasses and move along, far away from the crazy guy.

I watch, as people are entranced by everything they have to sign a piece of paper to receive. We’re all to blame, for what we’ve become. Especially me, I’ve been part of the collective conscious. I walk around a little higher now, as if I’ve known some forbidden secret my whole life. That none of this crap even matters. The only thing that truly matters in this life, are experiences. Those moments of beauty that can’t quite be put into words. Over, and over, and over, until they pile up into some big idea of why we are really here.

I don’t want to live off some borrowed future. I sing to my dog like nobodies watching. I laugh at my own jokes and stumble upon ridiculousness that precedes any on-lookers idea of sanity. I may have nobody to share it all with accept for my dog. But life-is-beautiful, and if I can inspire one person, once, to just let go. To ignore ideas of impending doom like I have for many, many years since I was a kid. To just walk outside into the blue-ish hues of this thunderstorm we call life. Into the claps, the deep rolling growls of everything that promises harm. And feel something beautiful. I will have succeeded in sharing.

We’ve lived and survived on faith based ideas for thousands of years. The experiences we have can never be erased. And I can’t think of anything I’ve ever seen through a fancy window which I would give it all up for.

Thanks for reading! Sorry if this is not what you’re used to from me. I do have other sides to me besides the joking around! Haha!