Window pollution and brain matter

Walking outside is more of a learned habit more than something I do for enjoyment. I was raised to understand, and I suppose enjoy, when shit hit the proverbial fan or when a person just needed an escape you went outside. My only real father figure being my grandfather leads me to my point. Well, at least one of them. I take after him in a lot ways and have been dubbed the grandpa when driving. So it stuck. I am that man incarnate sometimes and it is a little scary. I am sitting on dozens of porches around the world as some kind of turmoil or another leaks from a nearby window that wasnt shut properly. My brain leaks from my skull into the static buzz of my surroundings. Window pollution and brain matter. Sometimes both. No matter what order it happens, it works for this well trained little robot. I listen to the stealthy crickets chirp in surround sound, almost in unison. So damn close to perfection! The mantra moves me to near enlightenment. I always think down the same paths when I am outdoors. Clear out the bad, find some random neutral thoughts in the corners and head straight for the pleasant memories that are hidden in the places you would never look for them naturally. Stuffed underneath a stack of old worthless game magazines I find memories of the Islands of Paradise. Nameless faces of children and adults. Nameless beaches and nameless playgrounds. Kids running for their priceless lives. Storm clouds carrying giant praying mantis gods searching for our innocent souls. These hidden beasts somehow harnessing the winds to carry them to new fields of flesh. The more clouds or the faster the clouds moved, the hungrier the devils were, naturally. Makes me wonder if all the gods and devils of our earth were at one time only a childhood fantasy? I do not doubt it one bit. Tucked silently inside an old coffee can is myself at six years old playing hide and go seek with my cousins. Hiding for hours and seeking for days. Time stood still, almost. Hunched over and muscles aching, hiding in the shadow of thorny bushes and having to pee but too worried about getting noticed by whoever was seeking me to do something about it. This was excitement. The thrill of the hunt and or chase. Kids playing out primal games in the dark woods of my mind. It is all there in the grounds of coffee beans. No matter where they are found these memories almost always lead to my childhood. I keep my other good memories in another room altogether under stout lock and rusty key. As sweet as they can seem I have found it to be much like Pandoras box. The good turns into an expresstrain headed straight for the present and I am left moving these memories downstairs into the basement of my thoughts where the bad and unpleasant memories are stored. The whole realization of where I am now in life and what makes up my world are too real and lonely to associate with my fondest thoughts. "You gotta keep em seperated" While storing my "new" bad memories I find a bad one stuck under a pile of dirty rakes, shovels and other random yard tools. Just briefly thinking of this makes me realize that my childhood , the one that comforts me in times of stress, was really fucked up. Every good memories underlying subtext screams fear, distrust, hate. I guess it goes with the territory. Being raised as a slave never brings out the best in people. I shove everything into the room, lock the door and run upstairs. I try to find a good memory again and it all looks suspicious to me. I have fucked up my entire house of thoughts, again, and must leave. After a calm nights sleep I may find myself on the porch carefully picking through random thoughts I carelessly tossed aside while I ran out of my mind the last time I was there. I mean, I will find myself on the porch eventually, I always do. Until then I pray to the powers that be and ask for an amazing dream. Beg really. Something delicious or enlightening or creative please. Just leave my memories alone tonight. I close my eyes and wiggle under my covers with the faintest smile on my lips, hoping for something good to happen while I sleep. Good luck Bastard.

June 7th, 2006