I get it, really, offering half-baked explanations for unanswerable questions, how else can I even begin to explain half the stuff I’ve done in my life. Maybe aliens visited me when I was a kid, and scrambled my brains and it was inevitable I would give up my pharmacy license for the pursuit of self-destruction via dope. For the record, I didn’t choose that career with any preconceived perks, I just became the kid in the candy store. I dig the fact that since nothing can travel faster than the speed of light and even though there isn’t a planet within even 10 light years, of us, i.e. 58 TRILLION miles (1 light year =5.8 trillion), that by fishing out in the infinitely deep ocean of theoretical physics, maybe we can say aliens could visit us by going really fast and finding dark matter reinforced wormholes cut out say, a quadrillion miles, and pop up at the other end like Thor.
It’s science. It’s lunacy appreciated through rose-colored glasses, and today I am glad to know that the Loch Ness monster and some half horse, half-water snake travel through a portal of some kind, a portal to the past, most likely built by aliens, which Giorgio Tsoukalos taught me one night last week, but some information like that, the really powerful stuff, it takes some time to really assimilate into not just a mind, but a heart and soul. That’s why I am probably going to go spelunking one day soon, really dig into some cave, and figure some things out.
Understanding, separating fact from fiction, myth from reality, it’s all interwoven, like a great weave…lame word choice…wove is weave, so nothing original there, but wouldn’t Giorgio make an awesome Hair Club spokesman…with the obvious tag line of, “Aliens couldn’t have hooked me up more with more natural, real growing hair, I can swim, play volleyball, unearth ancient secrets in Katmandu, or a nice Sunday barbeque with some Swedes. Thanks Hair Club.”
If I went to Hair Club, I’d be lowering my ten head to at least a 5 head….see, forehead…never mind, need to find some direction in these ever drifting sands, contested for oil rather than the sun’s rays, kind of makes me re-evaluate where a buck should be made. I’d open up an ad agency, love hawking wares that are completely unnecessary, but convincing it’s essential like oxygen. Need a PT Barnum biography, or just find someone with a little more grime on them than me, maybe that’s the whole point here, throwing out something so ambiguously ambitious it can’t be argued, because if I learned anything by watching South Park, there are indeed stuffing mines, and the holiday of Thanksgiving was just an interplanetary war fought on earth for some reason.
When easy walks out the door and the sun hides your shadow, it gets to be a lonely place. Can’t take back a second of time even though I’ve given so many away. What’s the pitch today, which angle wants to squeeze something out of me? A roll of the dice and a little bit of understanding the rules of the game go a long way down the rabbit hole. Fearless and searching, and the subsequent confession, it all unclogs my drain, opens the space between brain and heart, and turns out that God is a pretty good plumber.
And while everyone waits for the future to play out my story, I am comfortable in today. I can’t say it’s different today and expect anyone to believe me, after all, me and PT, suckers are born every minute, and while I wish I never pulled anyone under with me, I know I did. Trust me, I am not okay with any of it, and I am not offering any apologies because it’s about trying to fix things, not play lip service to life or offer up an explanation so illogical it must hold some truth. I still have my hair so I don’t need to take the approach that since comb-overs are blatantly ridiculous, and a little creepy frankly, that the alternative is to grow what’s left up, and buy some really impressive hair gel.
Then again, up is a much better direction than down, or sideways, so maybe the message is in Tsoukalos’ hair, like a cathedral, your eyes just look up, towards the heavens, where the first true connection for me was made. That’s not one I am letting go of, while others slip away and I can’t pick it back up. Not saying you aren’t missed, missed desperately, still able to trace your face and smell your perfume, but at least you know where I am and how to find me. Being peaceful with all this turmoil, yeah, life isn’t about the show, it’s about the perspective.