Someone asked me what I thought about 2012 and if I was worried. Sometimes I don’t know what I think of things until someone asks me and then I get it in the rock hard third dimension through words.
“No, I’m not worried. On December 22, 2012 I’m still going to wake up in the morning and rent will be due on Jan 1, 2013. Even if the poles switch and Quetzecoatal comes back and makes us all eat his new cherry granola bars even if they taste like shit and we have to pretend they’re magic and NYC is under 27 feet of snow, my landlord will still want rent on or about the 5th of January, 2013.” I believe that if NYC were hit with tidal floods and locusts on top of it, being New Yorkers, we’d get up the next morning and swim to work with bug spray tanks on our backs because we have work to do.
I do believe the earth is changing and that our higher oder DNA strands are on standby and amazing things are possible and hopefully on the hotter side of likely; I don’t think it’s going to happen Emmerich brothers style; truth ruminates in stranger places. Most people want the world to end I think because it’s easier than taking responsibility for their own lives or because death ends pain. In theory. Since the first spore took a breath on this planet the next spore started shouting about the end of the world.
One thing I know for sure is come December 22,2012 I’m going to Barnes and Noble in Union Square and counting how many 2012 books are going to be in the $5 section. I know some are great in teaching about the bigger picture; I mean those ones, yes the ones slim pickin off fear.
All I know is that there’s two types of burning stomach; one that’s caffeine based and that’s not. When I have the second, like tonight, it could mean madness and beauty round the corner or I need to start doing Kung Fu.
In other news not involving my stomach or 2012, I went to an open mike on Tuesday and after reading my material, was met with the glorious silence of feeling like I was speaking Dutch. Cross that place off the list. I know what’s possible with this material. I reaffirm to my overlords that I will find a performance home. I’d perform every day if I could. I have the energy and reserves for it, like the Space Station. Maybe that’s the burning sensation, a bevy of cosmonauts floating in my belly eat dehydrated space borscht. Come on Universe, lay off the comets and find me a performance home.
