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Every now and again, I feel compelled to sit and type thoughts issued forth from the sedentary adipose tissue surrounded by my skull. Such non-verbal utterances are as much cathartic as informative, to me personally, as well as to any audience sharing them. Think of them as a very large finger opening a very small valve, the results hissing outward unto an unsuspecting audience.
Sometimes they stream out, a volley of expository flotsam deposited upon an uncharted sea of expectation; and hapless wayfarers, starving for inspiration or leadership to the next port-of-call, grasp at the dangling tendrils and hold on for a while… any port in a storm. Of course, most of the time the lifelines are as much imagination as reality, and often the unfortunates duped into believing in their existence are left stranded in the storm created by their birth, as the thoughts evaporate in the mist.
Other times, the touch of the finger (well-intended though it maybe) is misplaced or off-center… and a door is opened to the secret place where demons lie in wait, just under the surface. Once out, they lurk behind edifices constructed for defense, only to attack and spread their ugliness before retreating to their caverns, benign cowards that they are. Fortunately, they are no longer either sharp of tooth or deadly of venom, more bluster than bite these days.
More often than not, though, the lines are hooked to my own personal supply of nitrous oxide, causing my thoughts to expand and morph until they become the mental equivalent of Alvin the Chipmunk, offering up mind candy for all. Welcome to the Theater for the Bizarre! You want geeks? We got ‘em… freaks, malcontents, hari krishnas, vacuum cleaner salesmen or lawyers? Steady supply! Ladies and gentlemen, step right up, three shots for a quarter… smack the schoolteacher on the ass and if she pees her pants, you win a personal pan pepperoni pizza! Hey, fatso! Yea, you, kid… come over here and pull my finger…
Suffice to say that I’m never sure if the lights are on. If I can find the switch, I’ll flip it… but if I can’t, I’m going to take the journey anyway. The operative question becoming Will you take it with me? If you do, maybe I’m learning something. If not, then it’s back to the alchemist for more magic powder. Who knows, maybe I'll even get the tires rotated.
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