edge of your window seat

And what did you do there? I was on the wing. Dreaming. That’s what they call it, being on the wing. We made songs. It goes like this. Oh, you like music, you sly devil, you! E una din doua. Asta tot intreb oamenii dintotdeauna. Fie sunt nebun, fie toti suntem nebuni. Dar nimeni nu pare sa imi dea un raspuns clar. Daca stau sa ma gandesc asa fac si eu cand altii cauta iar eu ma intamplu sa fiu acolo. Si in acelasi timp, tot ce ne spunem e shh, hai sa nu ne mai spunem cuvinte. Nu suntem cu nimic diferiti de pasarelele din parc care zic “hey, hey, wanna fuck?”, sau de un colibrí “gotta keep moving, up, down, down, up, can’t stop, up up, down down”, sau de furnici “queen needs food, babies need food, queen makes babies”, sau de un foton in libera proiectare “uaa. Uaaa. Uaaaa”. All alone in space and time. There’s nothing here, but what’s here’s mine.

Smoking a joint in Northampton. Well, it is something I happen to be doing. Never said it is extraordinary. I’m in my office, nature, my canvas on my desk, the backpack, my pen in my hand, the word. My, my, the world. The tree is autumn. It teaches me yet another way to feel my alone-ness. Each leaf contains a different memory. I wonder if trees wander, too. Their stillness don’t fool me. I wander when I’m still, too.

All these lessons need merging. Everybody, drop your buffs. They must have a common essence, consciousness, soul. We have maybe four or five hours of daylight. Is time really a dimension? What is a dimension? And why do we chase them when we should play them? Alone-ness is gone. I feel complete. See? Wondering has its benefits. Perceptie-sferă.

Will I write the book? Should I start now? Have I already started? Let’s try, or not try, but watch something happen. I like when I create happenings. I open the door to the story of my life. I’m working on a book. It’s all about your life. Maybe it’s all about mine, too. Maybe I can write the truth along the way. Use me. I’m useful and magic if you use me. I’m a playing card. I’m the yarn in a bard. I’m the jest of a fool. A glittering jewel.

Wander alone in the crowd, and sing. And fear not the taunts of the man and his masses. Cause when disaster comes knocking is us fools who’ll be laughing. I miss just traveling.

I don’t wanna go back. We have to. Till then, we walk.

If you look real high, you just might find, sitting in the stars, glistening, glistening, oh I wonder.