And Don't Time Change Those Inclined in anticlimatic

…to think less of what is written, than what’s wrote between the lines.

I find myself in the most ethereal place, mentally. A touch of psychosis. Slippage. Like I’m floating above a city I couldn’t identify, at night, with a thousand lights stretching in all directions.

What if death reveals a set of rules we couldn’t have seen until that point. What if memory is tethered to our bodies, but our spirits have always been untethered and interchangeable. What if each of our bodies has housed numerous spirits over the course of our lives. What if our true natures are those mingling spirits, outside of time and space, that drift in and out of all the various people connected across relationships and proximity.

The world feels dark again....not in a bad way. In the way I remember, from the winter of 1986. This dark stillness at the end of a long stagnant calm. Rumbling thunder of major change, just on the horizon.

I remember peering out at the world for the first time from that darkness. There was no confidence anywhere, really. Nobody was faking it. People were raw and they were beautiful. They are so again.

…

I don’t know why, but I hope Mike Tyson runs that kid over tomorrow.