everything will be in black and white, remember. the future is a child on playground about to skin his knees, tear through jeans, go play again. i don't know if our paths ever crossed before.
i was sitting somewhere on the promenade drained and stimulated by all the adrenaline i've been pumping through my blood from beaten stages, holes in walls, awkward pauses, beats, edification for that moment of tension and burst, sun reflecting me in the menu window of a restaurant. i see all the years beginning to accumulate on my face and staying there and i'm worn out and invigorated at the same time, days unidentifiable, even my dreams are foreign, scary, and this world is beyond understanding alone.
britt and i were talking about continuing our parent's metaphysical journeys. trav and i, reincarnating opportunities for behaving in truth like cloud atlas and our own purpose. bec, we looked into each other's eyes and spoke of darker depths, until that guy behind us, stood up and went home, hugged his kids, we hoped, imagined, laughed. shane, we said it's all in our minds, our tickets to freedom, most importantly creation, like this or that book he read on cell phone at jury duty or some george lucas quote i'd heard, creators. tallulah, i told about the time i was kicked in the solar plexus by a horse and she gave me hers about the jealous head-butting goat at the farm, then we sat in the car, she finished her cold pizza slice breakfast and we made up fictional get-rich-strange worlds, straight-faced mostly, we get it, jealous goat factory fires, insurance money, human blubber, block out the sun ransom, not necessarily in that order.
i'm the luckiest man in the universe.
