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I'm thinking again. wow. No, I mean, wow. Yea, Here I am sitting at my computer laboriously tapping, typing with my two bird fingers seemingly random thoughts. But that's not entirely accurate as I started working this up on my drive back from McDonalds. Where I had their scrumptious BIG breakfast. A fillet of processed eggs and a disk of sausage, A rectangle of a deep fried potato similitude topped off with a crumbling well buttered biscuit. And, washed down with a rich, tasty 1$ large southern ice tea. I mix it, the sweet an unsweet, so I get the flavor without the risk of a glucose coma. I'm still nursing my Tea as I begin to ramble on in this highly personal reflective of my day so far. But you know what? I'm tired of just monologuing. I think it's time to get a dialog going. So I suppose I need to mock up another voice before I continue. "HEY!! Wake up Zombie!" The dialog starts with a jolt from my new as yet undefined voice from the beyond who has come to join in my effort to try and inject life into this so far staid, stilted, boring, unanimated, blogospheric nonsense. "Uh,,,, who are you" I reply, stunned at the abrupt intrusion of my imagination. "I am your wish fulfillment. I am your dream sharer. I am you!" Oh great, a riddler. I have another completely separate voice talking to me in an androgynous voice in my head and the smart ass is saying he's me. "Have you come to teach or vex me?" I ask, my timidity getting the best of me as I try to find balance. I continue, "I was hoping for a companion in my literary adventures into the absurd." The voice then merrily chirps, "Well you got it, I will be your guide into the mysteries." "A compass to give direction and meaning to your experiences and travels through the cortical effluvial, conceptual symbols of your transcribed internal verbalizations." Well, this was going to be fun. I've never had a guide before. At least not one with so much insight into myself personally. What more could I ask? But then my wounded pride and self assurance reared up and finally I blurted out with hostility," Hey! Who you calling a Zombie?"
My exclamation was deflected by a soft knowing chuckle. And then my new guide simply said," C'mon, we're wasting time." There are some things I need to show you and this essay can only be so long." That didn't make sense. "That's not true." I argued. "This is my essay and I will make it as long as I want". My Guide, ever patient, pointed out, "I know you can make this as short or long as you want, but, just in case someone were to read it, don't you think you should have some consideration?" I was forced to begrudgingly agree and anyway I was ready to move on so I said, "Ok, what do you want to show me?"
"Much better. Now come with me." My guide suggested. "where?" I wondered out loud, my voice surprising myself in the solitude of my room. "Over here." My guide said just when I felt a strange pull and with a "swoosh", I found that I was looking from a slight undefined height and distance at my typing creatureness laboring away at my computer. "You see You?" my guide asked. checking to see if I had my bearings and balance. Dumbfounded as usual all I could ask was, "Is that me?" My guide, so full of wisdom and concern simply explained, "To say that is you is only part of the correct answer." "The more complete answer is to say that that is yours." "And as your guide I must then ask, why do you refuse to own it?" "Why do you allow your corporeal creature to be pulled in any direction as resistless as the dust blows in the wind?"
"I do own it." I said defensively. Though I must admit from my new vantage point I sensed a glimmer of what my guide was talking about. "Really?" My guide smirked, " Really do you own that miserable creature typing there?" "Go on watch him for awhile." "Watch him scratch himself and fret over the money roll in his pocket." "Look at him." "He's wanting to finish up this essay and go have a cigarette." That did it. I was insulted now. My guide had stepped over the line. "I can quit smoking anytime I want to." I protested. "And I'll scratch myself any damn time I please." I felt better, even though I was aware of my churlish reacting to being played and having my buttons pushed. Yet, I was having an epiphany of sorts. An epiphany while watching my creatureness look up the word epiphany in the dictionary. A flash of insight about wanting to make sure I spelled the word epiphany correctly in this make it up as I go along self illuminating anecdote. "Ok, I have had enough." I want to go back." "After all that corporeal mess is my home base." Then my guide got that smirk again and muttered, "That has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"What?" was all I could manage to proffer. "IF I own that as you say why shouldn't I want to return and possess it with my new found wisdom?"
"Well because you never left.""And besides, what wisdom?" My guide was growing weary with trying to help me claim the obvious as knowledge. I wanted to protest some more but I knew all along what was what. Still I just had to ask about the Swoosh and the apparent out of body experience or bi-location. Plus the fact that I only heard my guide and never saw him or her. Somehow I sensed my Guide was simply staring at me and slowly starting to fade. "You can't claim mysteries as knowledge per se, you can only enjoy them or ignore them." "It's in the enjoyment and acquiescing that the power of mysteries become accessible, utilizable.""But never understandable." "The mysteries are like anything else, you can either own them or they will own you." And then my new found Guide was gone. And I was left to gain significance from the moments just created. What does own mean anyway?
"Well because you never left.""And besides, what wisdom?" My guide was growing weary with trying to help me claim the obvious as knowledge. I wanted to protest some more but I knew all along what was what. Still I just had to ask about the Swoosh and the apparent out of body experience or bi-location. Plus the fact that I only heard my guide and never saw him or her. Somehow I sensed my Guide was simply staring at me and slowly starting to fade. "You can't claim mysteries as knowledge per se, you can only enjoy them or ignore them." "It's in the enjoyment and acquiescing that the power of mysteries become accessible, utilizable.""But never understandable." "The mysteries are like anything else, you can either own them or they will own you." And then my new found Guide was gone. And I was left to gain significance from the moments just created. What does own mean anyway?
So much for this piece of cortical effluvia. So much for being slumped over my laptop. This journey into the over there and beyond without ever leaving the here and now is done. For now I suppose. That cigarette sounds good. I wonder what I will have for lunch.
