‘i know you scared / you should ask us if we’re scared, too…’ – Chance the Rapper, ‘Paranoia’, Acid Rap
Moving from place to place, wondering where to call ‘home.’
The internet, boxes of microprocessors, metal and fiber optics connected together in some occult alchemical fashion… (or should I say, internets? xddddd) has become a permanent home of sorts. which is to say, I feel at home anywhere I can connect to the internet. using symbols, audio and other methods of communicating with others, receiving feedback and feeling free to be myself.
at least, for the most part. paranoia sets in for me a lot.
I read nineteen eighty i don’t fucking remember the last number. it was prolly 4. too lazy to check. jejejejeje
and other books, too. and dropped acid. x, shrooms, alphabet fucking soup.
Grand Central Terminal.
I remember going there one day before work. It was a cold day, and there was something going around in the air. I had some soup there that day, and I remember looking for a place to sit. And there were some homeless looking people there, and I remember one trying to catch some sleep on a bench only to be shooed away by a policeman. I honestly didn’t know what the fuck to think. What is it like to be homeless? why him? That day, all I knew is that I didn’t want to get sick, so I found somewhere else to sit.
A place to sit. A foundation.
They say that home is where the heart is, right? Well, what if you love many people all at once? (I’m not talking about romantically, before you start going off on tangents.) I mean at least platonically, like a friend. I love many people. I love my military brothers and sisters. Being deployed in Iraq, I slept like a baby. There was a lady that I barely knew that had me sleep in her house some years back… well, we went to church together. It was beautiful.
I would take drugs alone most of the time. Much of the trauma (which I’m now trying to channel through my fingers and massage away through the body of the internets) was caused by fearing incarceration by random alphabet boys that uphold the ‘law.’ what if the law is bullshit, though? (but that’s another blog post..)
just talking about it evokes feelings of fear and dread. the only person I used to feel that I could talk to about my feelings was my psychologist. (what a lovely person, as well.)
thank god for those experiences I’ve had of ducking 5-0. (no, i’m not gonna post a link of NWA’s ‘fuck tha police.’) We need people like the police to protect us in times of need. It’s just, certain laws…
but on the other hand,
my favorite DDR song to play in an altered state of mind is ‘Paranoia KCET – Clean Mix’ xddddd