Let me tell you a story. My very own corner store pulp fiction.
It started with an acid tab laced with graffiti and hell screams from abandoned hospitals. Or maybe it started with an epiphany about reality. Or maybe a girl.
I’m not sure.
But when it kicked off my world began to change. I moved down the street from the hospital. I created a new theory about reality. And the girl started appearing everywhere.
I forgot about the hospital and focused on the other two. The theory and the girl. In no particular order.
I started trying to change the world and make impossible things happen.
And they did…
Because let me assure you. Your mind affects your reality and the physical world can be manipulated. As over a dozen random meetings with said girl began to attest to.
But this wasn’t enough. I wanted to make impossible things happen. I became aware of something few people ever become exposed to and I was going to exploit it, establish and prove it.
The girl became a standing ovation of what can be accomplished when two minds crash together at full speed. And I was convinced there was hidden meaning there that I would never understand.
And I still believe that as I write this over 9 years later. As I slowly count to ten.
Even though it all came crashing down.
..Now I could tell you all the parts to this story.
The crowd that came to my doorstep but didn’t grant me an audience.
How they broke into my house while I slept and cut me into little pieces.
How I was treated as though I was guilty of a crime. And forced into a world of the worst kind.
As I filled my pen with blood from the scene. And made a massive mess of things as the sky literally fell.
How this small little army town became my very own war. Which later became a world war.
I could tell you about how the founder of MySpace knows my name personally. And how we had the briefest conversation about freedom that still stings today.
While west coast bands sing songs about sitting under the Hollywood sign chanting blasphemy about new Americana. And 21 Pilots explain all this shit to you while you aren’t listening.
While Silicon Valley build new ways of living the dream.
I could tell you how there was a voice in my head that arrived at the very worst possible time with pinpoint precision. As they took the most important part of me forever.
I could tell you all kinds of things.
But you would never believe me because you haven’t lived it.
Even those that wake up to the sound of my name at 4am after the craziest dream would likely just shake their heads and carry on.
Because it’s something rare and strange as hell.
I’m the deep deep dangerous depths of detail and something else lives here with me. As I read another physics book and write on the walls.
I don’t know how the story ends but fate sent that girl back again in front of a packed stadium not too long ago. Just as I knew it would.
Only this time it was for her.
And it was the last time.
As I pour another drink and tip my hat to fate and design. As I gave up trying to change it after they took my house, my head, my life.
This world has enough on its plate without me trying to distort the fragments and fabric of interdimensional time and space.
Just sit back and enjoy the ride in perfect wonder as the perfectly timed orchestration plays out.
And I write my incredibly well rounded crazy down for the ones that come later.
Because we all want to be understood.
I just skip the parts where you try and go straight to the secret scrolls of 2197.
Just say you love me and I’ll apologise for every time I made you sit through one of my crazy rants.
From the first to the last.