Cryptic
Sudoku
This waiting room is in dire need of highlights for children
Hypnotist
Crackpot
Your crystal ball tells me much about how fargone I will become
but what about the more important stuff?
I wish to see only the future I payed for, you jackass!
My insurance doesn't cover a broken will
You know this is true! I will meet a man, you say?
There.
There!
"There There, there is much more to the story?"
DO TELL! I am not letting your offices clean my wallet for this needless banter
Who is this man? A Prophet? A Liar?
Shall I steer clear or seek him?
"He is an important man who I know quite well."
How can this be if i have never met him? Your services are worthless to me!
I will hear only of fame and fortune! This man can wait for someone else!
Destiny, Schmestiny Lest he forget:
I'm in control, I am, not him!
Good day sir, psychic, seer
stop telling the truth to those who can't hear.
=
My dear Friend (and I say that with deepest sincerity),
I have come upon not a fork in the road, as many of my contemporaries and ancestors have, but an end of the path on which I am currently traveling. A dead end is an inaccurate description as my freedom to move beyond it is unrestricted. It is exactly the opposite, I say to you, a living end that is as vast and endless as my eyes can perceive. I wish to continue, but alas, with sky in all directions, I lack the lift required for that. I know that by stepping off into this void, this gap in my plans, this skip on the record, I am achieving what is meant for me, what I was created and shaped for, what countless and counted years of experience have led to. No twists of fate have been in vain. To say that everything has happened for a reason would be an understatement, as the entire world as i know it, within and around my existence, depends on this decision to enter the unknown.
And yet i am still.
Still.
I am writing this to you on a piece of bark that I found. Above where I write a message reads: "Eric + Julie 2004". It is crossed out. Beneath my etchings there is another: "RIP Gregory 1986-2009: You were taken from us too soon. - Eric" I have paused several times to reflect on these. I am still unmoving. Still, Unmoving.
You're probably tiring of reading this already, are you not? I am sitting here, contemplating your response as I write. I am waiting for you to arrive, already, though my request hasn't been made. The passing of time is a dreadful and fascinating thing. I will waste no more of your time then, and make me request without further delay, as to catch up to the hasty statements above.
I need your help, Friend. My fate is calling from far above and below where I sit, legs hanging off of the side, over whatever is below and under that which is above. And yet my response continues to be procrastination. I speak the words necessary, I deliberate and compare and contrast all pros and cons, I make charts and diagrams. I come to the conclusion and every time my work ceases there.
I am nearly out of room on this piece of tree, and the knife I am using is becoming dull at last. I have yet to tell you what it is that I request of you! My my my. This is obviously the root of it, yes?
Come to me. You can find it, for I know you aren't far from here yourself. Bring nothing, say nothing. I must not detect your presence. I will be staring at the sunset with vacant eyes and my ears will be drowning in psychological white noise.
Without hesitation, push me.
I will fall (and maybe you will too)
But that fall is what I need so badly.
For without wings, I have been afraid to fly
Without ground, I have feared a step
without a back up plan, I have been afraid to move at all
That will change
The ground will fall on me
But I will not be harmed
for it is only the fall that warrants fear
and there is no ceiling, no floor
there are
no borders, no boundries.
no
limits
Only those that we create from the nothingness of the unknown.
I await your arrival on the edge of my seat, and my reality.
As Always,
Eric
=
=
Realism is a horrible term.
Saying something is Good is very vague. Good compared to what? in what sense is something good? What defines morality, if that is even what you consider 'good' to be? Good is relative.
How 'real' is reality, and compared to what?
Are you real?
Am I seeing reality?
And if I was writing a story, a poem, how real is that?
It was very realistic! say the critics.
I happen to share a reality with them. I agree.
But if something is unrealistic, who's to say that it isn't realistic for someone else, in another reality?
Questions, Qeustions, Questions without answers.
It is one twenty three. I will leave it to the philosophers to worry about reality, because thinking about something only makes it more apparent, and I have had just about enough of reality lately.
=
JAMMA MAMMA BRAN O RAMA EXLAX AFFLACK AFFLECK ATTACK!
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