Feb 06, 2019, 05:56AM

My Head Trip

There are no refunds without a receipt.

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You can call it youthful arrogance or a smug ego trip. Blame it on sarcasm or a cynical nature. Could be a combo of both, plus some negativity thrown in. You can tell by my apathetic “fuck it all” nature. Being a crusty old fart with a bad attitude is part of the big gig for the rest of this show now. I can't fake it or fool anybody like before. Youth encourages blind ignorance. The folly of bad kids on a wild spree with teenage angst. Raging hormones. Abandoned fools, born and bred without any future plans.

No image to project or protect. It's all grunts, groans and moans from the balcony. Get up out of that chair. It's all downhill from here. Coasting at a steady clip to the finish line. The aches and pains of oldster lifestyles coming down hard. Once young and carefree, without burdens of proof or responsibility. Now an old gasbag full of hot wind stinking up the place. Just let it rip. Decomposing from the inside out. The highly flammable stench of years accumulated. It's time to let go. Constipated stress reveals cracks in the armor of a perfect life's mirror.

My brain’s normal. A gelatinous sponge soaking up info of noodled gray matter mushing up oatmeal and mashing old memories like the macaroni and cheese of stale ideas. Where the past and the future melt into this present moment meeting in time, a place in space.

Start from the beginning, in the middle to a fitting end. Multiple chess moves considered before checkmate’s final afterthought. No simple feat of mind over matter. Take all the time needed to reflect on an undeserved life well-lived. The regret of the dead and dying is the punchline of a storied fable of make-believe beliefs.

I'll have none of it. I can't take this imperfect mess. The semi-perfect picture of life as it appears and disappears. Vanished, erased right before all eyes straight through empty heads crowded with air. That sleight of hand misdirection going south. I can't imagine any less anymore. How and what the brain does flawless imperfections scheming on big dreams yet to come.

In the dark dead every night to rise again reborn in the morning light. Close your eyes. The big sleep of night terrors. A dirt nap, a little death. A yawn, a sigh or sneeze to stop breathing heartbeats. The miracle of life as it's known or barely surviving. Mainly imagination and conjecture. How to arrive at a safe place on this insane ball of confusion negates everything known. Falling between the cracks into a brand new scene.

Recent experiences with psychedelic magic mushrooms and a foray into lucid dreaming. A vision of being alive and dead at the same time, some kind of extraordinary alter afterlife limbo. Everything could be undone to justify life. To prove a real world, a place to dwell in waking hours. Walk the earth and occupy space. In real time, existing while deceased.

Daydreaming a life away while undead. The hallucinations occupy different ways of thinking about the variety of untimely demise. I dreamed I was dead but kept doing things to disprove my final resting place. Constantly trying to prove the worth of my being by doing things that mimic a life. Moving around freely. Waking every morning ready to go with unspoken remorse. To bear the weight of gravity pulling and pushing a body around like a shopping cart in a used parts swap meet.

In my fevered brow of hallucinatory repetition I write this tale of woe. This short text of fiction based on real life. Taking stabs at reality. Transplanting theories. The first successful head switch surgery. Destined to re-live this over again. A perfect image reflected in the eyes of every different version of yourself. In search of life to dream come true.

The intersection where sleep and dreams collide to relive all yesterdays today. A renovation of tomorrow with plans for building today. An entire blueprint of life spent on credit. On borrowed time gone bankrupt. There are no refunds without a receipt. Pay through the nose for that photo finish. Hold all tickets. Ladies and Gentlemen, hold all tickets until the judges make the final call. A decision will be announced shortly.


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