blast from the past....
Just a few short musings before my day kicks in and I go looking for a bell tower to climb. On the way home on the bus yesterday I noticed a possum on the side of the road.
I’m looking at it thinking, “oh look, a dead possum on the side of the road”. It was kind’a propped up against this construction wall that faced a really busy street.
All of a sudden it snapped its eyes open and I couldn’t help but notice that it had this really freaked out look on its face. (If you could imagine a possum having a freaked out look)
It actually looked like it was hyperventilating and shit and it’s little black beady possum eyes were just darting every which way. Now I’m thinking yeah if I was a fuckin possum sitting against a wall on a busy street I’d be freaking out too. Hell, it’s not like possums are known for their acute traffic sense and shit.
But as the bus turned the corner one of those giant street sweepers came into view. I’m looking at the street sweeper and picturing the path it followed, then I looked back to where the possum laid freaking out against the construction wall.
Damn that muthafucker had to pass right over the fuckin possum, no wonder that muthafucker looks all freaked out and shit.
And just thinking and shit, I’m always amazed at what people talk to me about. It’s a given that if you’re a lonely drunk in a bar, you have to come over and tell me your fuckin life story.
But lately and I would love to see how I look to other people, but folks have been rolling up on me in the oddest places to ask me questions, anything from government issues to sexual advice to crop circles.
And I’m not sure how I feel about that, because these people are serious as a muthafucker when they ask me shit. Like my answer will set them free and light the way to karmic salvation.
Fuck, when I look at myself in the mirror I don’t want to ask me a fuckin thing. Have I reached that point and stature where I’ve turned into the elder wise man? Are there muthafucker’s walking the earth seeking the answers to life that are being told to travel to Kansas City and seek out the old fat black cat in Midtown?
It’s like one night in the Hurricane this hot young chick ran up on me and I swear to god this is what came out of her mouth. “Are you the one called Death? I heard you’re wise and can help me”.
And then there’s the cat that wanted me to tell him how to become a man. Now that one was easy, I told him to go out and rent every movie he could find featuring John Wayne and Samuel Jackson and do what they do.
But I’m telling you, do I really need that kind of pressure? Do I want to be the wizened one that people seek out?
"and the monkey flipped the switch"