Thursday, November 3, 2011
Look, I am a retard. Seriously. I am not like you, I am, painfully, different. "But," I hear you say, "You're speaking eloquently enough, you're clearly writing a memoir of sorts, which shows a certain level of awareness." To which I respond, sure, but I'm still handicapped. Here's how I'm handicapped, there's the premise. And, skipping ahead a moment, here's the gist of this, my memoir: this is an existential tale, nothing more, nothing less --nothing. Karma, though, that's a thing. Rebirth --> death --> rebirth. And on. And on. I know this, because, well --I know this. I cannot die. I'm missing that integral component. For me it goes: Rebirth --> Aberrations happen all the time, and I am one of those wonderful freaks. This is not to say, for instance, "Wah." This is to say, things are in motion now, and I don't know, for a change, how they're going to end. So, I'm putting this out there, out here. So, I'm putting this here, because I think maybe, existentially, there's a lesson in my life.