24 Questions

Today was my birthday. September 11. Since age 12, this day has put me in an unusual state of mind. Furthermore, tragedy bursts in the door like a depraved gut-wrenching Kramer hellbent on getting off on another rail. Why the f**k can't I go ONE year without being robbed? Any why on MY day? 

This time it was a family member. He says, "It's the pills, it's this s**t, it's this person, it's that person, you don't know, man..." I tell him, "You are wrong. It's you and only you." What more can I say? This is beyond trust issues. This is beyond reality. The nature of this incident is well understood. Addiction. Mine is in check, others seem to let theirs steer. The trauma is in this methodical, impossibly coincidental mindfuck. The f**k?

This really isn't a story. Simple nonsense. I get weird on this day, and feel like putting it on the wall for others to get their share of the discomfort as well. It's the one day I feel like standing up and vomiting my bile style of opinion.

Seeing people waving flags makes me sick. How can an informed individual feel patriotic on this awful evil-wrought day. Yes, I am a stupid Murican with stupid Murican ideas. The world stage seems like a joke to me. Is everything here make-believe? Yeah, questions. Why have we stopped asking them? 

The afterlife is a wild perception of the resulting burst of energy in the brain prior to the big shut down. Where is your eternity? Right there. The final burst will render time moot. Synapses in the brain firing wildly in a superconductive stew provide a platform to be suspended in a mental world of mind.

All is mind.

Author's Note

All is mind.