---
You're still here? Maybe I can remedy that.
Water is hot in the sun and cold in the night, lagging behind the light in a reluctant cooling and heating circle that leads nowhere.
On the other hand, an egg once boiled can never be unboiled.
Is my 'me' a cup of water or a boiling egg?
Turbulence and peace have passed through my body as waves churn a melting pot. When 'i' write this now, 'i' write about who 'i' used to be so 'i' can read it later when 'i''ve finally found whatever it is that 'i' am looking for and 'i''ve the time to reflect on 'my' life; it turns out that 'my' life is not actually 'mine' but, when examined closely, is actually the life of this mysterious and dangerous character named 'i'. That bastard!
Would you believe that these long streams of abstract reflections can be clean and clear with a peaceful mind? Interconnections between thoughts and actions as between the past and present become apparent. The fiction of the future is exposed as pulp magazine dreams. When the mind is open and strong - unbelievable things happen; i still don't 'believe' them.
So i ascended a height of discipline and reached a zenith momentum as a temple dweller in Thailand. i saw a bunch of giant phallic symbols spanning hundreds of years of Asian history from the rocky temple schwangs of the Khmer Angkor temples to the Siamese kingdom's Ayuthaya stone schlongs to modern Kuala Lumpur's titanic glass and steel shafts. Now i'm in Malaysia chopping up the past with a keyboard and tugging at my gnarled chin hairs in an attempt to make something of this writing. It is no history, but a slice of time in the real present that is valuable to me; a photograph of my mind at a certain moment. And you may read it, or you may not(!) because you are interested in this 'i'. A deviant stream is trickling meaninglessly over dry rocks instead of flowing safely within the mighty river banks. i'm interested in him too!
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The great gem of this recent trip is that he now realizes one secret: the Wheel turns. The miracle of one day is doom for another but the light, light air of life loses nor gains an ounce no matter how flurried or calm.
Carefree is the spirit in the morning air
without memory
when he rise.
Azure is the color of his future where
he is heading
blurry eyed
and he was asked, most jealously, by a haggard old Dylan,
"Robinson Wayfield! Where are you going? Where are you off to this time on your own?!"
to which he responded,
"to Southern Australia! to pick fruits and berries and find my new home!"
-
i
