I may sleep

Oftentimes I get a calm sensation on the top of my head when I talk to someone special. Sometimes I feel like my soul is exiting my body and realigning with it. I will recover quickly or like today, stay dizzy for a minute. I'm assuming it just loathes being stuck inside of a bag of skin all of the time. Sometimes, I can see you sitting next to me but you're not there. I don't know where you could be.

Then again, that's just typical me when I am alone. Dipping in and out of my own mumbles to try and make my dreams so alive that I may as well give up functioning materially. This has become something more than a dream, though, and maybe a desire that is all too known as unhealthy and depreciating. I can't decide what's right or wrong anymore and my soul realignment tells me that it doesn't matter much anyway. This could be the sign of my early death. One day I'll say "fuck it" and run towards that coastline or other culture I have been sheltered from in the great Midwest.

Don't tell me I'm alive

The whole "You should be happy because at least you're alive" deal never worked well on me. Frankly, I can't imagine this reality to be the best situation in the entire universe and in all of the dimensions there must be. I could try and change my perspective into something that is more "half full" but then I would have to believe that being on Earth at this very moment, typing into this computer, is the best of all possible worlds. Maybe this world is the best of them all, sitting here in this good karma depleted country staring at my faint cellulite? LOL! That would be a lie, wouldn't it? Sure it's better than starving but it's surely not better than being dead. I don't say that because I am suicidal, I say that because there is no way for anyone to know what happens after death. And really, if you want to look at it the way I do sometimes, I am optimistic in the most backwards of ways. I know that there is better than this. It keeps me alive! It keeps me searching! Death, though, well... telling me that I am alive doesn't make me feel any better. It doesn't fill me with vitality. It doesn't get me through the day without thoughts of revolution, or not scowling as I look at my morning hair or tasting that grilled cheese any differently. I know I am alive, folks, and it doesn't make a difference to me. So you don't need to remind me. Just play some Miles Davis and serve me a martini, please.

Christmas

The one thing I can count on for Christmas is the fact that no one in my family will buy me anything with Andy Warhol print on it.

Merry Christmas, now lets go jump the pope.

kerouac's haiku