Tag: the end

A Few Words

God gave you a left hand and a right hand. On one side there are things that happen to you and you’re the victim or receptive or yin. On the other side, you are the actor, the thinker, the yang. You can’t reduce it to one. It’s both, well at least both. I’m not that smart enough to know how many hands reality has. But you can’t say that you’re a total victim, and you can’t say that you’re a total egotistical controller. We’re all both in varying degrees. So can we please meet in the center? Can we have a mosh pit of love and understanding. I know that some people are “unrelatable” but people change. I used to be a frothing right winger. I grew up. Let’s all stop being total know-it-alls that are completely convinced that the other side is wrong. Certainty is poison. There is no certainty in a complicated system of oppositional actors. Humility, Please?!
By the way, WTF is wrong with you Donald Trump. I’m talking to you as one of those horrible trannies that you want to cleanse out of the military. (BTW, only we can say tranny. Don’t fucking say it if you’re not a tranny.) Grow the fuck up motherfucker! Simmer down my brother. You’re not fucking Christ. Lord. The amount of intellectual certainty in this budding Aquarian Age is just too much. Yeah, we kind of know things because of science, but science is wrong every day.
OK I feel better. It’s such a fucking disaster. Center. Breath. Ground. Know that you’re a dumb ass ape. Life is work.
I’m drunk, but hey, I can write a few words.

the end

They say this is the end. Who they is nobody knows, but everybody knows they say this is the end. So I’m on a bus going south from Portland to Eugene in Oregon, the strange lady of states where Don’t tread on me rifles neighbor up to eco anarchist blues. This is the end. It’s chaos. It’s over. The dream is dead.

I know something about death. A year ago I was very carefully trying to dance old lady death into my veins by way of a purposeful overdose. I had it all figured out. I was going to take 250 pills. They were very toxic. This would do it. This would be my end. 

Now here I am, riding the bus south through Oregon with endless skies heralding my flight. 

People don’t understand death. Death doesn’t want you. Death is just a cabbie looking to uber you to your next manifestation. There’s no such thing as death. You get born all over again. In fact you probably just blurred onto earth, so you’ll just blur somewhere else.

This material life is just a puppet show. The real you is not the puppet, it’s the puppeteer. You’re the puppeteer when you dream, did you know that? You put down the puppet every night and the puppeteer’s union gets together to throw back a couple or whatever puppeteers do.

This ain’t no end. It’s just change. So I’m riding that bus. The sun is glowing as it has been doing for just about ever. This is not the end.