All of the things below are fragments of thoughts and ideas I had started at some point and just didn’t finish.
It’s been a really difficult year for me. And there really aren’t too many people left to talk about it with.
Either way, no one ever reads this.
—-
Adrift
I seemed to have dazed off or perhaps I phased out. I don’t really know. This place defies the simplicity of being alive with all of its nuanced ironies.
I was still on this semi purgatory state of existence; if I could even call it that.
The essence of ‘me’ was still in the grove of the Holy Man. He was nowhere to be seen at the moment.
But i sensed something changed. It was a strange feeling like I slipped back in time and back into my flesh to replay some series of events. It could kind of felt like i lost at a video game and i had to respawn and replay a few quests again to get back to where i was.
Even as i thought that I could hear the echo in my head of how utterly stupid that sounded after all iI had been through.
I was lost again and I could hear my own voice in my head screaming out.
—-
Endless Dream
‘It’s all coming back to me now. That strange and almost endless dream...’
Who was singing this to me. Who was she. I could conjure and image for the briefest moments, and it faded.
Where was I today? What was a day...
There were so many, and there were none.
And with that, I was to know myself.
I had created illusions, I couldn’t literally or figuratively ascertain where I started or where they ended. And they were there, in the quiet. The peace of not knowing was a greater savior than I had before.
Did I belong?
Will I find that comfort ever again, or is it the Endless Dream?
In a weightless moment I saw it all.
I could never go back, that was the hardest lesson to realize.
I wasn't afraid. I was alone. The design we create was a cruel bitch at times.
My friend in the prior life would have told me about choices and consequences. Or perhaps she believed that the Riders of Rohan were real. Perhaps they were. Who was I again; Farmir, she said with some level of excitement.
But I had been falling from the world for so long, I was thinking, I was someone else.
I wasn’t.
Perhaps this was a trip from my imagination, or it was Peru. Did it matter?
I don’t recall, why was that?
To know love, to feel love, was all a factor of fear; it was shapeless, it was a changing cloud.
The grove of the Holy Man had dimmed in the prior six months; whatever a month was now, I don’t recall; did I ever?
I forgot why the flesh was poison. I just forgot so many things
I forgot why thoughts were the Mind Killer, I was embraced in fear.
Change was inevitable. I had to see that.
But gravity pulled me into the quiet. The desolate and the darkness
And this is the trip we are on.
Forever, to be encircled.
—-
Secrets
I gathered all my secrets (and I don’t know who I am).
I sat there, forever, and imagined this was a line from a song by a band I loved back when I was alive.
And it was.
So many things that faded away. So many deaths in the suburbs; so many lives that would fade away.
And with al, things, Therein lay the irony.
I was dead, forgotten, alive, and both with schrodegers cat and without.
—-
The seventh day
I had been told forever that god created something on the seventh day, or within seven days or maybe Joe Benson just played a full record of a band I liked on the seventh day on KLOS and my goal was to record that on a cassette before my brother did.
None of it mattered now and quite literally I don’t know why I even had these thoughts.
I had no more days; not here, not there, not anywhere.
For that matter, I had nothing because I was at the point of the nothingness.
Imagine for a moment what life would be like living in an hourglass. But, only at that point where the top part met the bottom part.
And, for the record, I had forgotten what that actual point was called anymore.
Was that the nexus, or the juxtaposition, or the apex... Damn, it had slipped away after my mortal demise.
With all that said, none of it changed the situation; in lack of a better term.
I saw that old house, that old place.
I saw the snow and the palm trees and grapevines of my youth.
Or, at least I think I did.
Death was far more complicated than they taught us in school
—-
