I don’t want to go to work tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day, …I was supposed to get some work done this weekend, but no, it never happened. Today I putted around. Mostly outside and coming back to my porch chair sitting and enjoying my beautiful fall. My time of year. My comfortably numb.

I strangely don’t feel like others. How do I know how others feel? It’s all in the all of course. Thrusted and ingrained upon us. A bit of an oddball I guess. Sometimes that frightens me, other times I raise that flag proudly. I don’t think we’re doing this living thing right. Day after day latching onto things to bring us happiness while all it does is make us worry more about keeping all our things. Acting like others to be like others. Doing this, doing that, rat a tat tat. Images, devices, a communication freak show pushed down our throat. Are you feeling okay? Something wrong? Oh, we can fix that.

Working worky work. For what? To survive you say. Hmm..I’m survived. There feels like there’s more behind this tapestry. The wizard is now our phones.

My push to get sober was to wake up. Living wasn’t meant to consume mass quantities just to make it through a day, event, a moment. I truly believed I had to get back to my natural state. Surely it would of been a cruel ride to have to escape daily what we were birthed into.

Natural. Getting back. Removing THINGS. This seems to resonate.

I’m not into much. Oh you must be depressed. You need to be around people more. Or you need to do this or do that. Do. Do. Do. Why is it you’re not into much?

Is it that the much is so much less then what’s right here?

Hold it together, man. Keep playing the game or you’ll go .. go , no mustn’t say it.

How did insane and depression even come to be words that slowly float into my head. Said it. Yes that’s it, I’m all up in my shit, up in my head. This all sounds like a Pink Floyd trip. Time to go …time to go. I’ve always been mad.

Like with sobriety I feel there is another veil that needs to be lifted. We aren’t taught these things because we’ve never stopped, questioned, nor tried. We instead must continue to biggering and continuing and just a bunch of bullshitting. And why is it I’m the odd one? It’s literally a crime to start seeing the glimmers so late in life after the chaotic first ride. But that ride is prescribed over and over and over.

I’m not of what I’m currently doing. I’m doing, but I’m not. There feels like there is more.

Maybe it was the tree I posted. Maybe the veil lifted briefly. Maybe it was me starting to read Wilderness – Gateway to the Soul. It’s 12:45 AM. I think I’ll go back to my porch chair and gaze at the stars.

Peace,

Dwight