Don’t worry, it’s only kinky the first time. Unconsciousness. The kind that you choose. Drinking yourself to oblivion. Ollieing over 12 stairs. Humping a psychotic girl. Jumping dirt bikes in the desert. Getting jumped into a gang. Training to be an MMA fighter. Driving in an adolescent street race. Drinking and driving in an adolescent street race. Drinking and driving without a seatbelt in an adolescent street race. Walking down the same street where an adolescent street race is taking place. Training for war. Raising your first child. Being raised as the first child. Writing long verbose meaningless shortened abbreviations of condescended full form broken sentences about William Strunk, Jr. Of course most people wouldn’t last as long as fart in a whirlwind.

My words are raining like a cow peeing on a flat rock. Memory. The kind that chooses you. I’m not talking about a good storyteller who molds their experiences into a funny recollection. I’m not talking about a nostalgic brain trip through your bike riding, Barbie playing, jump roping, hop scotching, tag playing, chasing the pigtails, G I Joeing childhood. I’m not talking about a therapy induced fake remembrance about real life abuse from your loving parents. I’m not talking about recapturing the foggy mist of a drug induced night. I’m not talking about accurately recalling your life. I’m talking about the completely unreliable process of collecting experiences, storing those very same experiences and recalling them in some mutated form. Hugs are better than drugs.

I feel like ten pounds of shit in a five pound sack. Unconsciousness and memory. Memory and unconsciousness. Two conflicting forces that are impossible to reconcile. Memory is the antithesis of unconsciousness is the antithesis of memory. Two seemingly contrary concepts that  repeatedly engage in a struggle from which only one survives. Two very dissimilar elements very often linked together. Near death and afterlife. Dreams and reality. Stupor and enlightenment. Death and afterlife. Near dreams and reality. Only one can be real and constant. They can not live together. Yet much of humanity’s ultimate goals spring from the marriage of the two. An impossible marriage. An unnatural matrimony between to like poled magnets, constantly pushing away from each other, but abnormally bound by the mind. This is as screwed up as a soup sandwich.