The Theory And The Girl

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.

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I knew a girl who’s hair was so blonde it was like a pure platinum piece of forever. Or at least a perfect mirage in the prettiest of deserts. I could sometimes tell the difference.

Her eyes were so brown they matched.. And you could actually make out the knowing. It was like a reckoning every time you met them. And I reckon she knew better than I did. Like it wasn’t even new.

If I had 50,000,000,000 lives before this universe stopped expanding and started retracting to start phase two at half way into the bang of the next, I’d take a moment to ACTUALLY freeze time and wonder how a simple silver ribbon could sit so perfectly while the sky was falling. And I’d try to make that moment last at least as long. 

And I know it’s only my sky. Yours is yours forever.

Sometimes I speak too clearly and sometimes I say to much.. So here’s a little less of a lot more..

Let’s assume it doesn’t change like the phrase ‘three days grace’. Just give me the tower, don’t leave me there. I’m not sure I could fall hard enough to find a gateway. But I concur.. Err err.. Like adjusting the volume of a murmur. Only louder is faster and faster is over. Errrr we there yet?

Charlie in November in Quebec with Romeo. That’s how I remember it. ..But don’t look down in disappointment.. Because I know so much more than I actually say.

Aloha! God you look fun.. ! 😍 Im fucking serious…. You look fun as fuck. And I’m not sure if I prefer purpose or if there is one.. But you look awesome and this ride is real crazy. I’d rather do it with you. I’d trace your outline perfectly. 

Maybe we can all find somewhere to escape the rat race in the end. So kiss the sun and chase it I guess.

Someone shoot me out of a volcano into a pyramid head first so fast that I can’t see the black make red or the red turn blue. Because I’ve got so much red, Snow White’s looking at me like I need a hospital or a new mic. Maybe just a new phone.

I don’t know I just keep on swinging and the ground doesn’t actually look that awesome from here. I should probably write this down on paper like an old world retreat. I definitely can’t compete with the universe. I’m too old school. And I’ll probably never rap. I write.

And I’m so smart I know that even though I only wrote this because I found an old red notebook from Virgin with little black ink saying ‘Our world inside out’, and the paper seemed too thin, there’s probably all kinds of reasons you think I wrote it. Or what each line means. While I sit in my house drinking rum wondering how words work.

But I know everything’s flipped. So I just won’t think too much about it while you all definitely should…

I could go on forever.

Everything has a quantum form. A structure beyond the standard physical. This includes the mind. The same way the theory of Schrödinger’s cat can even exist as an idea. The conceptual design is enough to imply it’s existence. Which can be tested and proved through various physics based cousins that directly relate to its influence. Like spooky motion etc. The true design has to enable and comprise of another layer of reality and the multiverse in its correct structure.

I sit on the back stairs taking stock of my last decade. Sucking down the smoke from my cigarette and quietly bouncing back and forth to an upbeat chorus. But even the music can’t drown out the sound of their voices. Even though that’s what the song is about. It’s been a long ten years. Although it’s another 8 months before my anniversary of the night they came, they saw, they conquered. An RNM extravaganza. I saw one smile today like she’d seen the funniest thing ever. As I make plans to help the people facing similar battles. Trying not to focus on the absurdity of my very own reality. We’re all going to die. It’s just a matter of time. But what I’ve got will make you feel so alive. I’ll get you high. Higher than you’ve ever been. Then I’ll kiss your forehead and send you back to the sea. I don’t like crowds and I only sing in front of people I can trust. Simple rules for a complicated life. As I draw pictures of comets and aliens and pyramids and volcanos. With a casual brush of possibility and percentages. But don’t paint me like the good guy. Because I’ll die an early death just to make you think about it. So fucking think about it for fuck sake. This only ends when you front up to what you’ve done. Don’t hide behind the crowd. Unless you bring them back to my doorstep. Don’t hide behind a foolish trick. I see through that shit as I’m staring down the barrel waiting for you to own up to your part in it. As the crowd stays deadly silent. And the system stays golden. Yet black as the dead of fucking night.

A vast conquest, burning cities down at rapid rates

With no graphic design portfolio and no PowerPoint presentations they just DIY that shit and leave suicide blondes without wings,

As I unfold the sky,

And a fire burns a letter on my doorstep,

I’m a three piece suit drasticallly fashioned and my pin stripes say ‘fuck you’.

Without the grace of a four leaf clover my hands are left bound to wooden crosses,

I taste the burn and drink the gold as we nightmare you,

I’m forever on a dime spinning upwards,

Jack knifing on a highway, 

I could pull the steering wheel, closer and closer, like a chess piece moving towards the king.

Cherry lips and silver skies, rusted sentiments of another time,

Adjusting the bright lights to dim when the chant starts, dancing wild like crazy,

Glowing distant like a diamond in the ground,

Taking forever with me.

Nature as intended as it bursts and comes forward to block out the sun, and the moon, at once.

So three cheers for ten years, and everything before and after.

As the sirens wail one last time.

And everyone runs for cover.

The world ain’t that big. Despite the fact it’s a trillion pieces of perfectly placed stardust all standing together in every form on this space rock. I’m chasing revolt but I’m already famous so my words don’t have the same bite. I’m already something to someone I don’t know. I skipped the latest meeting at the revolution gates and my voice can never be heard. As it runs with wolves at midnight. Keeping the sheep amused. I sit in the dark and listen to 21 Pilots like I made it myself. I go to work and speak to people who’s view of the world is distorted. While I live in one you would never believe. I always knock on the door before I open it. And I’m always three steps behind. Watching my shadow move before me. Why’d you come? Why are you here? I see a wormhole in the sky every time I look up and when there’s an eclipse my eyes never burn when I stare. It’s like they exist in the heart of a star and can see through eternity like it’s just another case of watering eyes as I half step past her on the street. Or maybe just a few rows in front at a ball game. As I pour the brown spirits from the flask into coke bottles to hide from security and regret. I take no prisoners when I speak. My blood is blue and begging for red. Or the other way around. But I’m always smiling. Unless I’m in a room by myself with the music up and then I’m jumping around bouncing crazy off the wall. Sharing a similar fate to those such afflicted. But I promise you I’m so much more than my attempt at abstract explanation on a page in your bedroom. I’m a gold star in the corner of the page titled resilience and I swear I’ll hold you down. Each rant contains something special like an old silver ribbon we pretend never existed. As I keep on dancing til the world ends.

I once spent a week sailing the Adriatic Sea in Croatia. Drinking vodka and spending sun soaked days with awesome people. After about 4 days I found the Amity Affliction on my friends ipod. And so for the last 3 nights I would drink and party the day and night away and then when everyone went to sleep I’d go up on the upper deck and listen to Amity blasting and dance and throw myself around for hours. I want to go back there. And then nowhere.