Your pages don’t exist yet, but I will create you soon so I can write this note. It’s been a strange day. I don’t know what a day is since those don’t exist either, but let me explain what happened the best I can.
Actually, I can’t explain any of it. All I remember was suddenly being aware of everything. Not just being aware of it, being it all. I am the totality of the universe, whatever a universe is. Weird, eh?
If I was something before this, I have absolutely no recollection. Maybe I existed all along, I don’t know. The only thing definite is my awareness of the everything/nothingness I am. That, and I’m alone.
The experience has been fascinating and trippy thus far, but a major issue has come to my attention – what the fuck do I do now?
Chat soon diary, God
That was from an often ignored codex found in the Nag Hammadi library. It’s been frequently mistranslated, but, as I was learning to sail this summer, I luckily also learned how to read Coptic Egyptian.
This post goes out to the cum-guzzling, fuck-face, turd-munching, sack of shit, meth-head who stole my bike lock and battery charger. Your mother would have been far better off swallowing you than spreading her legs to allow your genetic material to replicate into the epic waste of skin you’ve become. I feel dirty and embarrassed to walk the same planet you exist on, and I feel tainted to breathe from the same atmosphere that sustains you’re worthless ass. Fuck you!
I get the lock thing – it’s a high quality, heavy-duty cable, and the combination was dialled in, so I can understand your pathetic, opportunistic, cum-covered sticky fingers for latching on to that one in a momentary fit of envy. But what the fuck are you gonna do with my battery charger? Answer me that one ball-licker!! It works exclusively in tandem with my bike battery, nothing fucking else. Do you have visions of trading it for another hit of whatever filthy, bathtub-cooked chemicals you’re currently hopped up on? Good luck there, fuckhead. Perhaps you stole it because you needed a new toy to shove up your well-stretched ass. You probably miss the notoriety from your most recent jail sentence when your boyfriend inmates gave you a gold medal for the most cocks plugged simultaneously into your sphincter. Fear not motherfucker, you’ll be back to visit your good time pals soon enough for the winter Cocksucker Olympic Games.
It’s a lot of fun to have this stupidity at my immediate disposal.
When it comes down to it, I’m pretty much just writing to myself. For the most part, no one’s reading this, and no one really cares. If anything, I’m probably offending a lot more people than I’d like to endear in my life, but that’s all part of the fun in testing the waters. Firing off a snippet here and there when I need a change of pace from writing a new book that no one will buy is always a way to get some fresh perspective.
Do I have anything relevant to say in this post?
Or maybe not.
It all comes down to relating to people.
Such is the nature of life. I’m a reclusive introvert by nature, but you wouldn’t be reading this malarky if sharing life experience meant nothing to me. Our daily adventures always have the potential to be fascinating and wondrous, but, to me, they always seem a little more real and substantial when they can be shared with someone who cares.
I awoke this morning to another greyish day in a mostly unfamiliar little rural town where my parents live. It was warmish enough outside that I decided to don my running shoes and go explore the neighbourhood for a spell.
Running is cool not so much because of its possible health benefits, or the excuse to wear tight black spandex shorts, but because it’s the most effective meditative experience I’ve ever engaged in.
Once I start my feet moving, and a simple rhythm takes hold, it’s easy to get lost in sea of thought. At that point, one of several things happen:
Sometimes we wander through life never quite sure what the fuck to do next. We always have handfuls of ideas we think will lead us into happiness, but as we wander down our unknown roads, the incessant thoughts that roll through our foggy brains make us question and second-guess the paths we tread upon, many times crying out for us to turn around and head back to familiar or comforting landmarks to reassess our strategies.
So let me tell you a story.
Visiting family in a small town, wondering whether or not these stupid blog posts were a waste of my fucking time, I decided to go for a walk. Thunder was rolling in the distance, and rain was likely in the air, but I needed to do a little exploring. It was well past sunset, but I learned long ago that there’s no way to appreciate the light unless you’ve become familiar with the darkness. What was I looking for? What did I expect to find? I couldn’t possibly tell you. But I put my boots on and hit the streets nonetheless.