Tuesday, August 02, 2005
The tragedy of the world is that there is not enough time to find the secret source of mega-devil tabs to uplift you out of your dreaded self and take you somewhere ecstatic for every second, all the time, for the rest of time. I am a woodpecker and I peck my head ceaselessly at trees and never get a headache (even though I always have one). There is a puddle of hot melted crayons that I am about to step into, merely because there is nothing better to do. I have asked the Juggler from the Woods and the Fan of Adult Contemporary Music to initiate a union near the cave entrance. I have asked them to fool me into thinking I am a wizard with magical fruity-time Mountain Man powers. I have asked them to fashion power cuffs for me to symbolize witlessness now and in the future. Back to gummy filters and visions of glowing haze layers, the delusion of making, the distraction from lack of functionality and fear of position-assumption.