Friday, June 10, 2022

big ugly nuts.

It was my first winter in Key West and by this time I had my bearings. I had the public resources mastered and a shady location to park and sleep in peace. I had a key card for the bathroom of a fancy hotel, and it was my favorite location to take a shit. The sinks were gold and the stalls were large. Best of all there was almost never any traffic. That is until the day I learned the design drawbacks of a black marble floor. As I sat on the can, the door burst open and a man rushed to the urinal while opening his pants like a barn door. On the floor directly in front of my stall, framed neatly in the space below the door, was a crystal clear reflection focused straight up under his big ugly nuts. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since.

Wednesday, June 8, 2022

about the electricity I felt when we touched.

It's June and everything is roses. How do you feel about that? When asked "how are you" I need to gauge my response because sometimes "excellent!" is too much. When appropriate, I chisel it down to a "great." I am cashing the checks and not asking questions; riding this wave to the crash.

Today I am imbued with the heat of the sun, but in similar circumstances we have been carved out hollow with limbs of dangling chain. It's chemicals and curiosity. If you look at us all and wonder, at most you'll see patterns, but conclusions and certainty are unicorns and grains of sand. The whims we are victim to are not seen in true form, and control is an illusion born from our misunderstandings about the nature of time.

If I speak vaguely in this manner, I hope you will relate. I am editing this carefully to cultivate connection. I am clicking and clicking and hoping for a spark. I want us to compare notes fluidly like when rain hits a lake - I want to pull out my guts and put them on your plate. I want to listen carefully when one of us shares, to catch a glimpse of the invisible threads which connect us, bind us, and pull us apart.

What I don't want is money or security, but I chase it like a deranged imbecile. "Just enough" is what we tell ourselves - as though the disease is desirable and we are in control. Almost nothing scares me anymore. An acute lack of certainty no longer causes vertigo so much as a deep exhaustion never to be slept off. Go outside and play.

I am on this planet to goof around, and my greatest disservice will be to have not goofed enough.