OK--First of all. Hi! Hi out there! can everyone hear me all right? I hope so.
Look, a purple puppy! Get it! DId you know there was a band in the late seventies, a psychedelic garage rock band,
named puppybubble? I'm not kidding.
the first thing we must establish is that everything is fun and by everything i mean the infinite beautiful that we all share because we all are through perfect infinite understanding compassion grace saddle points relativitity whatever the hell you want to call it interconnectedly wonderful.
Wonder wins every day. And fun. In the new reality. Here are some rules from a thirteen year old kid who has no friends "a smoking jacket wearing build" and a strong desire to turn his parents' basement into a place for constant parties.
1. No being bored 2. No being responsible 3. No touching (stuff in a way breaking kind of way. don't be destructive) and no fighting 4. Dance like a disco maniac 5. No drugs or alcohol
This kid is the new buddha of the pacific northwest. He understand without knowing, which sometimes is the best.
I MUST REVISE! Physics is not the poetry of the EARTH but the poetry of the cosmos. That's because poetry is the physics of human existence.
In the new reality we do not ask questions we put our shoes on our head. Or run as fast as we can with a towel over our head like superpeople screaming "AHHHHHHHHHH!" until we get tired. Then we eat sandwiches and take a nap.
In the new reality designing playgrounds is more important than finding a new resource.
In the new reality Congress is funny, like the Circus. We pass laws to wear red rubber noses and Senators' shoes squeak.
In the new reality irony actually is surprising and sarcasm is saved for the bone you give your puppy. There it is again! Wait, no! It's not a puppy, it's not a puppy at all. It's a MASTODON. Get it! It's red and green plaid and wishing you merry christmas!
In the new reality we eat pie without tomorrow.
In the new reality boys and girls love each other like they know they can and without the stabs of regret and remorse that we all know and retreat into because of fear.
In the new reality earthworms are the new unicorns.
In the new reality guilt is something you put on your toast and god is butter.
In the new reality art hangs on the walls of our nostril or arm or leaning against the front porch. It's not precious because it's perfectly normal.
In the new reality nobody asks what the point is because you are already alive loving and doing what you want. You do math for seven hours and everybody gives you grass and bread and water in return.
In the new reality we drink wine because it reminds us of the grape juice we got in kindergarten.
In the new reality the concrete is the only thing we're scared of and the automobile makes us cough without shame.
In the new reality nobody pretends they're having fun or says they're sorry.
In the new reality good and bad and better and worse is like first place: unenviable. The only thing we win and lose is marbles!
In the new reality we skip and dance and play play PLAY. We play all freaking day without desperation or need but because we can and it's the only thing to do. Whether it's building houses growing food wearing a sweater discussing the cosmos or singing a song, we play.
In the new reality I am not ashamed to tell people I am a poet who sees God as beauty, since it is the highest principle, and worry that I am alone here.
When he first came back on the ward, stinking of cement and homeless people's urine and wastepaper greasy mcdonalds frenchfry bags, weaving and bleary uttered and muttering how skyscrapers should never touch the sky because the clouds are bandaids, it's not like when you wipe out on your bike and get a scrape and mom's got the Curads, it's bigger than that, it's piercing God's side, it's making new time through invented darkness and toostraight streets, a new numeric misunderstanding of landterrains, a new always wristwatched time with no memory and ever pulsing press of sweat and blood and new needs, new money to be made new hustles to be had new dreams to be dripped over and frothed toward, a new rabid tomorrow TODAY, and look at those shiny windows going practically to the moon (the what? the moon. Oh, haven't seen it around)--when he first came back on with the greasy bruises and the stink, we hardly knew him. And people started to say it wasn't him, it wasn't the one we drew chalk drawings for, it wasn't the one who didn't teach us anything but that somebody up there on the fourth floor of the library was allowed, was GETTING PAID to say the things he was saying. He was getting away with it, he had hopes in is eyes. But this wasn't him--sorry Doc, got the wrong guy; ours tried to teach us to fly. This guy can barely get out of the chair.
Read Visions of Cody, kids. It's the other half of Kerouac's dream. And we better figure out what we're up against, coz it's a killer.
I don't think Mudd will every let me back in, but DAMN it was fine while it lasted. See you in the funny papers (or the next time i came a'hainting).
Stay moving, see new mexico, in the winter, look at the sky--the stars are everywhere nonsense and two inches in front of you, a blizzard of constellation. Took my breath away. Just don't stop, don't settle, and don't, EVER, stop hoping. Clear-eyed hope, not fearful spineless sheltered cloistering madman at the center of the earth i'll save everyone when i rule the world hope, not political picketing my way or the high way amplified rhetoric buzzsaw divisiontalk it's us or them you're either this side or that side my side will give you strophes and the future hope, but the hope that's balanced, that shakes like tambourine jingles, that sways, and cries, and laughs at itself, and falls in the lagoon! Keep the hope that stays free, and believes you can. Because like our immaterial fleshless unseen friend says, if we can't keep the men of the Constitution and their awful prejudices, we should at least affirm the principle that founded.
When I was about 16 (i think) and went on a terrible acid trip thinking that my ex-girlfriend's laughter sound at the hands of her aggressive new boyfriend coming from downstairs were the sounds of our aborted child, the only thing that took me out of my pit was a hug that engulfed me from all my friends intertwined together (some of these friends, it should be noted, had never and were against taking drugs of any kind for themselves). Without judgment, with pure love, I had faith again. It was the only thing that would have saved me then, and you can do some weird, permanent shit when you're tripping. I wanted to thank of all of you who were my intertwined hug for a little while. I appreciate it now, having lost it, more than I knew I could. You were(are? God I hope so) some of the most beautiful people I've ever met. Not to get mushy but it's late and i'm alone in brooklyn, which is no place to be alone when it gets dark inside.