(bye-bye there dear karla, 2011)
Slipping Into Infinity
Cut the bread with a chipped edge of a stone, fashion an axe with a piece of yarn. Crush the earth with your toes, feel the trees breathe (they're breathing). Run with the wildest, craziest, and bravest sons of bitches you ever known. See a million sunsets, live in this moment then live in that moment. Pretend your wings for adventure are heavy motorcycles, and your arms are twice as strong and barely fitting in your current arms. The world is your might, extend it, stretch it, destroy, and rebirth it. Take on giants, fuck everyone (fuck as in screw, I mean, to care not in what they speak of or believe in), and listen to what your dirty guts say. Sure this could be dialogue to a truck commercial, especially when I say all this with an implied southern draw. Now listen! (implied y'all).
The sky bends, stand tall, you've learned how to fall, now learn how to jump, to take a leap, to tower, and to soar, if only for moments, if only for this one time or that one time, and just live in a little. Bite the bullet, do anything that could not kill you, and do a few of those things that can kill you. Do everything you told yourself you would, once you were in a better mood for it, because fuck your mood, this is you, you call the shots, you are your mood, now go jump off something, go marry this guy, or that girl, or that idontknowwhatshehehimher, and just trust in your one only weapon when you are completely naked, lost and alone, in the woods, your survival. Howl if you have to, scream at the top of your lungs, you are wild, we are wild, let's get wilder. Make shit happen. And by all means, if something is holding you back, don't let it, if there's a face to your boundaries, make it the face of your high-school history teacher, why, because (s)he's history! And if that boundary has no face, give it one, not the same one as the last, you gotta be creative here, make it Albert Einstein, why, because he's history, that's right. He was really smart and all, but he was on another level, somewhere I'm not, but I get it, or at least I'm ...REACHING for it. REACH FOR IT. Envision your hand grabbing a pot-bellied fruit full of life and nectar, and juices and seeds, and guts, and squeezing it. At first it holds up against your attack, but then, boom, all of a sudden it explodes, seedlings everywhere, fruit guts all over your hand and clothes, and you feel something give in your hands. You hear a tambourine playing, then a techno beat, then electronic guitar, do-do-dah-nah, do-do-dah-nah, (yeah baby, you know what this is)