I awoke with Clear Eyes on this muggy, cloudy day with a premonition of future greatness for us all. In two days, I turn 25, and this marks the 1/4 mark of the grand marathon that is my century-long life. What have I done? What am I going to do? Let us leave those questions for now. For now, let’s ask, what am I doing?
This is an essay about an event in my past I refer to as “Final Karaoke”. This event is so old and so distant that I hesitate to even call it “my” past. It exists somewhere, maybe in my mind, maybe adjacent to my mind. All I know about it, I have written in this essay.
This essay is also about ghosts and dreams, but that’s okay, because all of my essays are about ghosts and dreams. I have bestowed upon this essay one normal title and one stupid title, and they are as follows:
“of all these ghosts that haunt me so, the one i am most frightened of is that one – that one over there. do you see it? it looks like me, doesn’t it?”
There were three people on the beach. Two of them were walking towards their car, chairs awkwardly tucked under their armpits, bags overflowing with towels that dragged along the ground, each wearing multiple hats and pairs of sunglasses. Three kids sat near the car. The kids had raced their parents to the car, and won. They were no longer on the beach. Continue reading “Crescent Dreams of Sea Breams”
When I first started writing this book, I had no idea what I would write about. I mean, I had a vague idea that I’d sort of fleshed out before, but I’ve forgotten the flesh and here we are. I’m hoping to recover some of it by the end. Come along with me on this journey!
GETTING LOST IN MY THOUGHTS
I do this thing when I talk or tell a story where I’ll start sort of broad, usually to avoid being a bother with something people might not even find interesting, and then start to become infinitely more specific about anything and everything, to the point of the story losing its purpose, because I’ll end up talking about one of the details I was detailing.
So a story will start with, “I went to the store,” and end with, “at 3:53, or maybe 3:54, with a southeast wind of 13.5 mph and there was a guy on the corner with a sign that said ‘God help you’, which I thought seemed weirdly ominous but what can you really do about it on a Wednesday night on the 23rd of April with humid 90 degree weather, AM I RIGHT?”
That was a weird day and uhh… uhm… yeah.
This is the end of my book.
It is my belief, or you could say, a principle of mine, that all people should construct their own cosmology, or at the very least, heavily modify an existing one, or create a synthesis of multiple cosmologies. You should always be constructing this cosmology; it should be as changeable as the universe itself (that is to say, modified by time.) Continue reading ““I Know of the Rot That Poisons Your Mind” (or, “Congratulations!”)”
I read the classic, beautiful prose work of Xeng Diaoping, Agamemnon vs Gibbongod LIVE in front of a (dutifully silent) studio audience this week. It’s now on Youtube! I put it there. I might do this kind of video again, and there’s the possibility that I will do other kinds of videos as well. Subscribe to the channel! It will be a gorgeous experience.
Ezzy drew the art! He’s just that kind of guy. The Spaghetti Soup Collective continues to collaborate and corroborate. These times are only beginning, my friends.
Four years and five months ago, I had a conversation with a Chinese girl in a small car, driving through the unnamed streets of Mito, Ibaraki, Japan. In all likelihood, she does not remember this conversation. I remember this conversation because a year later, I wrote it down. Thus, this essay is based on a three year-old recording of a then one year-old memory of a conversation. Continue reading “頼るってわかる？ Do You Know Tayoru?”