Being Me

Being Me

My mind was a kaleidoscope of the absurd, brilliantly colored, opulent, but with no intent. My plate was always worth more than my meal, for my ideas were dreams without a pillow to lay my head, I was a ship with no port in which to moor. I hustled a flurry of nothingness, flight without wings, the sky and the earth upside down, inside out, reversed as you know them.

I hurled thoughts against the walls of my self made cell, hoping, neigh begging, just one would stick. I could block out the sun with my thumb, remember minuscule moments from days of yore, but my life resembled a chipmunk in a wheel, I just kept running nowhere. I rode a stationary bike believing one day I would arrive, I didn’t know where, didn’t care where, the arrival was my destination.

My ass backwards thought process led me into alleys with no escape routes, and ramming my head into the thick brick walls got me nowhere. I never planned, I was a man of action, that led to inaction, I could have turned and walked away, but I wouldn’t accept that as an alternate route. There was always an escape clause, except the never was, yet I reasoned the laws of gravity and creativity didn’t apply to me, those were for the other guys. I kept running in circles expecting to find myself somewhere new, I would have rather died in the alley than admit my reasoning was off kilter.

I talked to myself quite often, sometimes to administer verbal spankings and at other times to congratulate myself on an unfounded success. I was the epitome of a ne’er-do-well, but pictured myself as an intellectual elite. Nothing of course had ever panned out and I lived quite happily in this oblivion for years. Although I had many friends and was outgoing, I held universal secrets I would never expose, intellectual property and all, though I had no deed, no down payment and the property only existed in my mind.

I took a wide array of vitamins, supplements really, to expand my minds horizon. LSD, mushrooms, and cocaine, but weed and alcohol were staples of my diet. My figuring was expansion was good for the country, it must be good for me as well. I knew one day fame and fortune would come knocking and never lost faith, but my dreamland was starting to fade. Decades of failure will do that to a guy, but I didn’t give up, I just switched gears.

Understanding a man like this takes more than patience, it takes a saint, and he found his almost accidentally, he certainly wasn’t looking. She had met him years back, but had yet to develop the skills needed to corral his inept, awkward persona. Yet she apparently loved a challenge and began molding him like clay, smoothing the edges, ignoring his barbs and preparing him for the ‘real’ world. He was just a colt, still didn’t have his legs under him, but she unveiled him nonetheless.

He reveled in the newness, told her his deep secrets, his idealistic plans and to her credit she didn’t laugh, she just kept molding him. The process still continues though he has no idea he’s being handled by a professional nut cracker and his days of wandering alleys were over. His mind still headquartered in the stars, his body is at least now on this planet, so as her work continues, he doesn’t realize his fate. She had somehow tamed him enough to let him loose in public, well Walmart anyway, and she always has a sharp eye out for his shenanigans and side steps.

Looking back, maybe, just maybe she was that dream, the creation he ached for, and he had found his Nirvana. Cindy has tamed me but has yet to control my pie in the sky thoughts, though she knows they exist and let’s me dream. As if this writing I’m still waiting for that knock on my door, but I now have patience enough to realize it won’t be today.

Happy 2021 everyone, I’m so glad to have made it out of that last fucked up year.

Crack Egg Out