Wednesday, June 25, 2014
It's me, The Woods. It's good to see your eyebrows and fingers.
In the time you've been away I've been busy: being home to the crooked bodies of dragonflies, as well as the business of growing and the heat of decomposition.
I may as well just come right out and say it--
I miss us.
You need me. Your eyes need me because your scope is shallow--I know it's not your fault. You just grow that way.
Look at Lake.
She is shimmering and beautiful, Yes? Think on her currents and teams of creatures, shafts of light, the strange murkiness of her floor and secret entrances to Underworld.
Everything is like this, Two Legs. Everything.
Or consider rocks: generally unnoticed as they are quiet and sneaky. Rocks are casually unremarkable but more ancient than most archeological treasures stashed under glass in museums. They become planet terrain for lichens and crawly things and exist for millennia with little encouragement from anyone...
You know what I mean?
It's when you free your brain meat from snap cating or spacebooking or scaring the shit out of yourself or whatever it is you think you love right now and listen to thousands of legs and wings populating my spaces,
I'll give you real medicine.
I am the Cure.
While we're alone I'll pet your hair and fill your skin with perfect smells, and I'll tell you that The Audience is a Lie.
All of the worrying you are doing about what "Everyone" says, who is watching and the mewing of obsessing over fuck-ups is an illusion...
The "audience" that pours out love for your accomplishments and chews on your shortcomings doesn't really exist.
As a sanctuary for Sasquatch, I am a reputable source for what does and does not exist. Luckily, beloved Human Face, a majority of your problems don't actually exist.
Don't abuse your imagination. It's too wonderful and scary.
If you want to stop feeding your imagined tragedies and future bouts of paranoia, I will help you starve them.
And once starved, you can shed them in a neat flaky snaky pile to be swept away.
Come with friends. Or meet me alone.
Just say you'll come.
I miss you.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
I was sure I'd have some poetic nugget of insight to share with you upon my return. But I don't.
Rock and Roll Tour. I went. It was awesome.
I also wanted to avoid regaling you with a report of inane details about people you don't know and sandwiches I ate like an animal. So I won't.
However, I can tell you that it should be illegal to not have a waffle houses within walking distance of your house, that lady dinosaurs have eyelashes so you know they are lady dinosaurs, and that it's okay when things don't go as planned--
That toilet seats are infinitely improved with the addition of googly eyes, that grilled cheese tastes better after midnight, and that bar bathroom walls reveal a creepily accurate sampling of society--
That cats do not want to wear sweaters, ever, that some people were probably born drunk, that waking up to Us and Them in the middle of the night will make you question whether you died in your sleep, that to do it well you have to do it hard and you WILL get sweaty--
That it's impossible to order a chocolate shake after 2:30 am because that's when they clean the machine, that playing the rooms your heroes played is holy, that there is always one more show in you--
That everyone is just passing through.
That it's not about perfection, it's about Victory.
That once you taste your real life, there is no going back.