Off the Record

I’m probably a few threads away from entering a deep Samadhi state.

I’m very close to hopping on a series of trains and traveling to Oaxaca Mexico.

I’m in the mood to dethrone my political and economic leaders and hold auction for the title of ruler, sold to the most interesting bidder.

I’m wrapped, in a series of thoughts that keep returning to the same blank-less stare.

In a few moments I will sully my chances to observe a traditional “ego sacrifice.”

I am breathing. I am breathing.

I am alone on my island

that is surrounded

by countless other lonely islands.

I

am

so

hysterical

most of the time that I keep my mouth shut.

I will move forward and spend much time in the past. I climb stairways only to forget multiple items that I had meant to bring with me. I traverse fields at night and try my utmost to remain pragmatic regarding lurking monsters and hatted figures.

I’m already altered. I’m in no need of power and greedily seize most that is handed to me.

Eight years from now, my lover and I are riding on the back of elephants for the second time and naming them.

Eight years from tomorrow I discover a better way to wipe my ass hole, and my children never know anything of the first method.

Eight years from yesterday I am still pretending in my head that I am a ronin, and I am still intentionally getting lost in forest preserves.

Eight years from two years ago today, I am able to grow a proper mustache to accompany my beard. Eight years from tonight I am reminding myself that love is what matters.

Seven years from now I will plan an adventure to Sao Paolo Brazil that will have to be postponed.

Six years from now I will be taking the last warm swig of a 1 day old Miller High Life (champaign of beer).

Five years from now I won't be invited to my friend Andrew’s going away party.

Four years from now I’ll be too lazy to refill my water glass even though I’ll be thirsty.

Three years from now I’ll know 5 digits of the Fibonacci sequence

Two years from now I will dream of being taken against my will to stand vigil over a cosmic body of my choosing.

One year from now I’ll be imagining how my life would have unfolded had I never ingested any sort of tryptamine.

I like how it’s always a fucking mystery with this guy, you know, life. I like how we trick ourselves into believing our tricks. I love how the ride comes from nowhere and returns. I love that nothing makes any sense.

I am glad I am human and not something worse.

Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om Om

Om

Addendum 3: I would like to alter this space-time so that humans have wings, and that all devices meant explicitly for war were never invented except broad swords and wakizashis and Crocodile Dundee Gigantic Hunting Knives, because close ranged winged battles are just so much more gentlemanly than long range missiles.