I was on chatroulette, for the first time, one night. For two hours this Floridian kid and I talked, or didn't, just sat there, oh gosh what was his name?. It was nice. Might sound creepy, but it was real. Why? Because I was real. And so was he. Ugh let me not toot my own horn. But I remember this other night, last summer. I'll get back to chatroulette in a moment. After these not-so-brief messages. I went out to this Bar in New York, the music there that night created a precious element... met a fellow, we talked, chilled, it got mellow, and high, and as I do, when I reach the sky, I riffed and riffed and spoke in tongues and connected with another person's lungs because each breath I took shook this person's world, and mine, truth be told, I say the darndest things, you've got to believe it, no need to see it. But, really, who doesn't? No, I mean, I really say the darndest things! Must have been the Bacchic influence. And now that I've stated it, probably took the edge off of the ability, revealed too much, set a standard, nothing to prove but expressing a groove. Keep moving...About what you may ask does my mouth, not much its the fingers that do the talking on this couch. If I told you, I mean really told you, I'd have to kill it. And I'm on a live trip continuing with the direction I was going in... homie's (he wasn't a homie, really) sitting there, in the same state as me, only I've taken the lead in the matter, get your minds (maybe it's not your minds, maybe it's just my mind, but I'll cover everyone's bases and therein reveal my own, oh jeez does it sound like I'm blown? [not]) out the gutter I'm a lady, not a pitch-and-hit batter. Flash back there we are and he's like, I've never met anyone like you, had this kind of connection, spoken like this with anyone. And I smiled and I thought, this happens more and more, all the time.Ah, les genes! So I said that, probably came off conceited as hell but it was earnest. And in that moment I couldn't have told that he thought me to be so, full of myself, but shoot, what do I know?. Because I talked of THE self, kept it as transparent as glass, reflecting my other half, wholly out of myself. Ugh God, I can be overly earnest. Oscar, you get me, I'll use your cajones. So maybe it is you, "it's not you, it's me", you..You don't need to remember it for it to be a part of your puzzle. And if it made it past your skin, others breathed it in, then there's little chance it won't prevail. As part of the matrix, as woven and contained within. Well, who cares? Ah, but you care. Everyone cares. Caring's the issue, and it's not, tu vois?. How truthful is something that happened in the past when your present is thousands of exits away, tethered nevertheless to that series of non-linear days, mem-o-rays, right up to the now here we go...... What are you building on, little life Jenga (a cat I once had may he rest in peace), let's raze this section right here, the foundation has been compromised, plant a seed in its stead, when stacking gets shaky, back to the Earth.with it, quaking, shivering, shaking. Can I stick another brick on? Replace the ancestry of an all-too-human race? My life's a brick, a part of the delicate game of pick-up-sticks, it's too late, I'm here, I fit.
Oh yea, and that time on chatroulette -- I won't go in depth, but I heard myself saying, that life is like a wave. positivity cresting, you waiting to catch it, like Clay Marzo magic, oh don't get me started on tsunami dreams.
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