This gets weird. Stick with it. It’s a thought process that will lead you to absurdity. Go slowly and give yourself a dark space with ambiguous music. Trust me. It will be weird, and also enlightening. Open your mind, empty your mind.
Now let’s go.
whoa. in between the space….
If you were a fortune cookie what would your little piece of paper say?
No, I mean: What would it say? I’m not asking you what you would want it to say.
Is that a weird question?
Did I go too far?
Are you crying because I’m making you think about what your life has surmounted to?
Well… What would it say?
When is the last time you exhausted your brain with thought?
I mean really deep thought.
When was the last time?
The moon is rising over the mountains. It’s you and your dog, walking alone, up the slope of the mountain. Your dog is blue, and gold, and silver, it shimmers with the delights of the world. The moon is yellow and round. It winks at you. It winks because it knows your climbing up to its crest. It lives beneath the sun, hoping one day to live above it. It wants the patience of the earth. It wants equality. It wants coexistence. The earth, the sun, the moon, the stars– shining at once, with a hopeless burst of contentment. You reach the base of the moon’s existence. You meet the glowing white rays with a smile. You close your eyes, reach your hand out– you open them again…
What do you see?
Cooking a meat, a green meat.
We walked over to the market to ask why the meat was green. The clerk had no answer. The clerk was a chicken. The clerk was a chicken with green thumbs. Does this mean the clerk could grow any type of produce? Did the clerk create the green meat? Can you imagine a world where there was such a thing as green meat? I’m sure it exists. I went to that world once. It was purple and had clouds of sapphire. The grass was made of emerald glass and it shimmered whenever it rained. I met a troll there. He was very kind, but also extremely small. He reminded me of a daisy with a unibrow. He looked like a lion without a tail. His face was scrunched like a bull dog’s, but his body was thin like a pencil.
Can we imagine such an eclectic character’s existence?
I surely could not imagine it even though I created it.
I have no answer, do you?
What’s your answer to me question?
What was my question?
What question do you have about things?
Imagine a bandaid over top a crisscross puzzle. A game of shoots and ladders. An apple with a worm. There’s a soul drifting to smooth jazz. I live in a rock I call the junkyard.
Where did you go?
Can you do something for me?
Can you feel empathy for Princess Peach?
The poorest of the Mario Kart gang?
She is left with the worst scores. She wears the same outfit everyday. She’s kidnapped by that donkey kong. She has the worst existence.
Do you feel the oblivion of thought? The drift of feeling.
Feelings are images. Numbers are sounds. Music is touch.
The notes smile. The notes sway in the beats of the music.
We live in a world.
We can only think more than we thought today. We thought less than we thought we were thinking yesterday. We decided to think nothing, but we thought about nothing. We thought about the thinking that nothing might bring us after nothing ceased to be a thought. Nothing can never be nothing in reality. Nothing is filled. Nothing is filled with air and clear space. Nothing is a blurry emotion, we feel it and taste it with our tongues.
What do you imagine nothing tastes like?
I see cotton candy disaster.
Did you follow me to this point?
Do you have any thoughts?
They do, they did when I was a child.
I loved dragons.
I loved God, too.
I had a toothbrush challenge for him.
I waited 8 years with a small letter and a toothbrush. I asked God every year to just wait for the day I put the note and the toothbrush out. I asked him to write me back. I asked him to lift the toothbrush into the air so I could see it. I was 8 when I realized God didn’t do fun things like that.
God hurt gays and soldiers. Well, according to dogmatism, he did. I didn’t believe it though.
God is a ball. He is a ball of glistening things. If he is there, he/she/it/they is/are too much to fathom. A thought is too much to fathom when you think about the fact that you can think whatever you can, in any limitation you may have, as freely as you can at any given moment. Do you know what you want to think about?
What can you think about all of this?
Are you absurd yet?