A Near Fatal Epileptic Scene on the American Boardwalk
Then this shoulder tap, "can you turn that off? I'm epileptic." I look at the flowers around my neck, back to her, then the lights flashing from the stage, then the neon glow of Heineken, Miller. A mirage of lights and glow and hysteria.
Met a girl out in the desert and she told me I was ill.
She said, "I will make you better," and she handed me a pill.
I'm at a bachelor party. Not mine. I'm here, participating in everything that's going on. Play the Golf. Drink the Manhattan. Tell the Stories. Relive The Moments. Eat the Oysters, raw, hold the rockefeller...
On the surface I probably look calm. I may even look like I'm having fun.
I came down two days early to Lay The Foundation. Get some sun. I was closing in on getting to that level of glowing white where you look like a vampire, skinhead or worst yet, like you're from London.
This weekend is in a place where elevation is 13' so I prepare with a pack of Marlboro reds. Get the blood flowing, the lungs geared. Plus I was in a hurry to get out of the city. It's closing in. Soon, I can tell this is where it's going, I'll need to take an even longer drive across America. Likely before Fall. New Orleans, what's it like there in July? My last visit was years ago, I stayed in the Hotel Monteleone with a ghost.
Everyone’s at the bar and I’m in the middle of it thinking things like this: I like being desired. I desire being loved. And I love being desired. In a holy trinity of affection and attention. Now what’s the source of those? Do you like my face, voice, the attitude, do you like how I inspire you to believe a Better World exist? People say I look like a certain celebrity and then want to talk, or linger, but what if you knew I thought like Crowley? What if your impression, that once cherished perception, left? Evaporating like March rain drops in April!
Whatever the Root of desire is, once the Lover gets to close to the Loved, that mysterious butterfly-belly becomes muddled. Seizes to be or is, at best, slowly going that way. Desired to Despised. These things are fun to think about as I know all that will save me is a surfboard or motorcycle, my pick. And notebook.
This shoulder tap reminds me I'm around other people. I'm actually in public. It's a girl I was playing pool with earlier. Her name could be anything. But I recognize her deep green denim overalls, ribbed three quarter sleeve shirt underneath. Flash tattoos of things that are important to her. Turtles, a Wave, a Sunflower.
Then her boots, Docs. And I've seen them enough. Get Klaus Märten on the phone, let him know I'm healed... Dr. I need no more medicine needed. She has a cute nose but I'm everything she hates and also am pretty busy in my personal life right now.
It was a hostile game of pool and we'd only won after my random teammate made a gorgeous shot, cue to left mid high diamond back into the eight then it slow cools into the high top right pocket. Flawless. Fuck them. Curveball in the dirt of course he's chasing it. Ladybird sucked kill yourself.
This game was an hour ago. In the meantime I'd ran into an old lady selling roses and light up leis. She was a sweetheart and I got a lei. Lit it up.
Then this shoulder tap, "can you turn that off? I'm epileptic." I look at the flowers around my neck, back to her, then the lights flashing from the stage, then the neon glow of Heineken, Miller. A mirage of lights and glow and hysteria. She'd been following my eyes towards the other perpetrators, now we're back to looking at each other and all that washes over me is the kind of sadness that one must feel when their kid gets bullied... No I won't turn it off, but I will leave. There's somewhere else I'm supposed to be, some other state of mind that exist where I can be without the Strangeness. The walk home is long enough to explore this. Imagine if you gave John The Baptist too much whisky..
I always fall back into the bliss of optimism. Who cares how deliberate I have to be to see it. That effort matters.
On Love: I believe one soul, maybe multiple, probably multiple, 3-7, exist out there for you that don't end in slow dislike of your unmasking. It actually becomes more real, and pure. That soul will inspire and believe and love. Thus I'm inspired and full of belief just by the belief in the existance of that holiness. I choose what I believe. Things are good. You're allowed to be happy, though we must not forget… we’re meant to do more than only Smile.
So I believe this exist. It’s signaling and receiving, what my heart is emitting. Cell phone towers and energy and my frequency is aligned with this mantra: Good Things Are Happening. We Are Loved. Thank You For The Gratefullness. Now Let Me Go Do Something With It!
I’m doing crunches on a Persian rug, Passe une bonne journée, bébé, I’ll see you Friday for some Red.
With Love
Winston
Mr. Downtown
The Reason There’s Sand In The Bed
