writing our philosophy
today we all got together
to decide was was wrong and right
we all came to agreement
man, that was a sight
i met lindsay the stocker at the solstace today. we had a beautiful walk smoking turkish gold and talking abstract philosophy. i don't know why i like being abstract so much. we talk in metaphors about things we don't quite understand.
the sun wamred our shoulders as we sat on the park bench, contemplating a geneticly engineered dandy lion retail business. or maybe a four leaf clover store. or would all the spying russian genetic biologists steal my code and release my secrets to the masses and ruin my business?
i don't know why they have to be russian.
i was suposed to go shoot pool with marty. but joe and i ran into harmony and she invited us to a 4/20 celebration in her apartment. how could joe and i say no to a cute stoner chick with golden curls?
she's much more fun to look at than marty.
i don't smoke much anymore, so i got real stoned real quick. i started telling harmony about paralell universe theories and transexuals and borderline personality disorders and the jewish race and all sorts of nonsense that i talk about way too much.
joe and i walked up to the solstace to drink coffe, but we showed up just afew minutes too late. we do that a lot. so we hooked on over to ihop to sit and drink a couple pots of coffee and talk philosophy.
in the ihop parkinglot, we discussed how much we really wanted to go to ihop. joe shrugged a lot and told me it was up to me. he asked me if i was sure i wanted to do it. he made me tell him i was sure. he couldn't tell me if he was sure.
i don't know. weasil. i am glad you are in my life, because you teach me about my own inner weasilness. i told him this, and he recieved my thuoghts nicely.
joe is an orphan. he doesn't like to talk about it much, but he was taken away from his parents when he was eight years old. this lends a lot to his weasilness, i'm sure.
"you just need to let it all out," i told him.
you need air to breath. and in your house, the breeze brings you fresh air. if you try to close all the windows and doors to trap the fresh air, the air will go stale. but if you open all the windows and doors, a lot of the fresh air will blow right thru without you being able to breath it. but, the wind also brings in fresh air.
joe agreed with me, this was the problem. but i didn't quite understand why he couldn't open all those and windows. i went to the bathroom and it struck me.
"i have a truth to tell you," i told him. "but i want to tell you this truth like i want to put my urine in your mouth. out of fear that you're just going to spit it back in my face."
joe agreed whole heartedly. i understood his problem.
of course, my metaphor is flawed. the truth is not urine. it just feels and tastes like urine sometimes. and sometimes, you don't want to put urine in peoples mouths by the simple fact that urine tastes bad.
joe agreed, again. but i don't think he understood that like i understood that. he never had parents like i had parents.
"we are going to walk away with two completley different understandings of this conversation," i said.
"i can accept that," joe said.
and i was happy. this is how joe and i are able to grow together.
"maturity is a psychodelic process," i announced.
a medical dictionary would tell you that a psychodelic is a property of a drug or chemical which produces hallucinations or other bizarre aberrations in mental functioning.
in other words, when you consider your own behavior, and you consider your morality and how you feel about your behavior, and you start to wonder how can i change this? or how can i change how i feel about what i'm doing? and ultamatley, how can i change what i'm doing? you're thinking about how you think, and how you percieve. it's quite psychodelic.
stefanie walked by. that knocked me out, really. she's got a beautiful smile. and i think she was wearing dickies. god, i love dickies. black, like her hair. and it's always nice when a girl like that walks by, smiles and waves. she doesn't even have to sit down with you. although, it would have been nice.
university girls. goddamn they are busy. always studdying.
and joe and i considered the truth. i have trouble putting these thoughts into context, but somehow we came to agree that the truth is nothing more than a synchronicity of perception. a collection of realities that agree. like a venn diagram. you got your circle and i got mine. whatever meets in the middle is true.
like built to spill said, he thought it twice and that had made it true.
joe and i came back to the house. we met a homeless man on the porch. he was drunk. i startedt o tell him a navy story when i saw his eyes light up. i could tell that he had a millitary story of his own to tell.
"what's your millitary expereince?" i asked him.
and then he just wouldn't shut up. i could tell he normaly doesn't have anybody to talk to because he couldn't arrange his thoughts worth anything. or maybe he was just so drunk. either way, he was crazy. and normaly, people have a problem understanding him. or more, he has a problem being understood.
but last night on the porch, he was the great wise man. and he opened my eyes to so many things that i couldn't even tell you about. that's how amazing it was.
later that night, i got my guitar and just played. i played music like the homeless guy could tell a story. i repeated myself. i played slight variations. i changed songs and i changed keyes almost seamlessly. and if you were trying to play along with me, you'd have trouble keeping up.
i invented lyrics. they were simple:
today we all got together
to decide was was wrong and right
we all came to agreement
man, that was a sight
the earth is round
yeah, that's right
the sun is the center of the solar system
yeah, that's right
there is a god
yeah, that's right
and he lives in every one of us
yeah, that's right
we could toss a mountain
into the sea
if only we had faith
the size of a mustard seed
the earth is hollow
no, that's wrong
but i wrote this song
yeah, that's right
and i say the earth is hollow
so i guess, it's right
and tomorrow i'll walk on watter
just like jesus christ
i think i'll call it writing my religion.
actualy, i wrote it in my head. and some of it, brian helped me with. and most of it, is just my memory of a thought. if that makes any sense. yeah.
this morning i woke up a different man. that's a real surrealist thing to say, isn't it?
my cousin jimmy called me. my grandma is in the hospital. we fear that entropy has taken charge of things, again. we are going to move my grandma's bedroom onto the first floor.
"come tot he groundhog house," jimmy said. and i knew what he meant. he doesn't like to tell people he lives at grandma's house.
to decide was was wrong and right
we all came to agreement
man, that was a sight
i met lindsay the stocker at the solstace today. we had a beautiful walk smoking turkish gold and talking abstract philosophy. i don't know why i like being abstract so much. we talk in metaphors about things we don't quite understand.
the sun wamred our shoulders as we sat on the park bench, contemplating a geneticly engineered dandy lion retail business. or maybe a four leaf clover store. or would all the spying russian genetic biologists steal my code and release my secrets to the masses and ruin my business?
i don't know why they have to be russian.
i was suposed to go shoot pool with marty. but joe and i ran into harmony and she invited us to a 4/20 celebration in her apartment. how could joe and i say no to a cute stoner chick with golden curls?
she's much more fun to look at than marty.
i don't smoke much anymore, so i got real stoned real quick. i started telling harmony about paralell universe theories and transexuals and borderline personality disorders and the jewish race and all sorts of nonsense that i talk about way too much.
joe and i walked up to the solstace to drink coffe, but we showed up just afew minutes too late. we do that a lot. so we hooked on over to ihop to sit and drink a couple pots of coffee and talk philosophy.
in the ihop parkinglot, we discussed how much we really wanted to go to ihop. joe shrugged a lot and told me it was up to me. he asked me if i was sure i wanted to do it. he made me tell him i was sure. he couldn't tell me if he was sure.
i don't know. weasil. i am glad you are in my life, because you teach me about my own inner weasilness. i told him this, and he recieved my thuoghts nicely.
joe is an orphan. he doesn't like to talk about it much, but he was taken away from his parents when he was eight years old. this lends a lot to his weasilness, i'm sure.
"you just need to let it all out," i told him.
you need air to breath. and in your house, the breeze brings you fresh air. if you try to close all the windows and doors to trap the fresh air, the air will go stale. but if you open all the windows and doors, a lot of the fresh air will blow right thru without you being able to breath it. but, the wind also brings in fresh air.
joe agreed with me, this was the problem. but i didn't quite understand why he couldn't open all those and windows. i went to the bathroom and it struck me.
"i have a truth to tell you," i told him. "but i want to tell you this truth like i want to put my urine in your mouth. out of fear that you're just going to spit it back in my face."
joe agreed whole heartedly. i understood his problem.
of course, my metaphor is flawed. the truth is not urine. it just feels and tastes like urine sometimes. and sometimes, you don't want to put urine in peoples mouths by the simple fact that urine tastes bad.
joe agreed, again. but i don't think he understood that like i understood that. he never had parents like i had parents.
"we are going to walk away with two completley different understandings of this conversation," i said.
"i can accept that," joe said.
and i was happy. this is how joe and i are able to grow together.
"maturity is a psychodelic process," i announced.
a medical dictionary would tell you that a psychodelic is a property of a drug or chemical which produces hallucinations or other bizarre aberrations in mental functioning.
in other words, when you consider your own behavior, and you consider your morality and how you feel about your behavior, and you start to wonder how can i change this? or how can i change how i feel about what i'm doing? and ultamatley, how can i change what i'm doing? you're thinking about how you think, and how you percieve. it's quite psychodelic.
stefanie walked by. that knocked me out, really. she's got a beautiful smile. and i think she was wearing dickies. god, i love dickies. black, like her hair. and it's always nice when a girl like that walks by, smiles and waves. she doesn't even have to sit down with you. although, it would have been nice.
university girls. goddamn they are busy. always studdying.
and joe and i considered the truth. i have trouble putting these thoughts into context, but somehow we came to agree that the truth is nothing more than a synchronicity of perception. a collection of realities that agree. like a venn diagram. you got your circle and i got mine. whatever meets in the middle is true.
like built to spill said, he thought it twice and that had made it true.
joe and i came back to the house. we met a homeless man on the porch. he was drunk. i startedt o tell him a navy story when i saw his eyes light up. i could tell that he had a millitary story of his own to tell.
"what's your millitary expereince?" i asked him.
and then he just wouldn't shut up. i could tell he normaly doesn't have anybody to talk to because he couldn't arrange his thoughts worth anything. or maybe he was just so drunk. either way, he was crazy. and normaly, people have a problem understanding him. or more, he has a problem being understood.
but last night on the porch, he was the great wise man. and he opened my eyes to so many things that i couldn't even tell you about. that's how amazing it was.
later that night, i got my guitar and just played. i played music like the homeless guy could tell a story. i repeated myself. i played slight variations. i changed songs and i changed keyes almost seamlessly. and if you were trying to play along with me, you'd have trouble keeping up.
i invented lyrics. they were simple:
today we all got together
to decide was was wrong and right
we all came to agreement
man, that was a sight
the earth is round
yeah, that's right
the sun is the center of the solar system
yeah, that's right
there is a god
yeah, that's right
and he lives in every one of us
yeah, that's right
we could toss a mountain
into the sea
if only we had faith
the size of a mustard seed
the earth is hollow
no, that's wrong
but i wrote this song
yeah, that's right
and i say the earth is hollow
so i guess, it's right
and tomorrow i'll walk on watter
just like jesus christ
i think i'll call it writing my religion.
actualy, i wrote it in my head. and some of it, brian helped me with. and most of it, is just my memory of a thought. if that makes any sense. yeah.
this morning i woke up a different man. that's a real surrealist thing to say, isn't it?
my cousin jimmy called me. my grandma is in the hospital. we fear that entropy has taken charge of things, again. we are going to move my grandma's bedroom onto the first floor.
"come tot he groundhog house," jimmy said. and i knew what he meant. he doesn't like to tell people he lives at grandma's house.