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Goo Goo G'joob

Journal Entry: Tue Jun 10, 2014, 9:36 AM

00:00 - Magical Mystery Tour
02:51 - The Fool on the Hill
05:52 - Flying
08:09 - Blue Jay Way
12:05 - Your Mother Should Know
14:35 - I Am the Walrus
19:12 - Hello, Goodbye
22:44 - Strawberry Fields Forever
26:54 - Penny Lane
29:58 - Baby, You´re a Rich Man
33:02 - All You Need is Love

I live on a mountain and rarely go outside.
When I do, I look out over the landscape with my mind completely blank; it's like a magical, mystery tour with only my eyes as the passengers.
I feel like the fool on the hill. Colorful birds are flying around, and though I've lived here almost three years, I don't know what any of them are called...except maybe the blue jay. Way common though, so I don't feel like they count.
"Your mother should know," they seem to say; she grew up around here and ought to know at least some of their names. Me--I grew up in a big city, which may as well be an iceberg for all the similarity it has to this place; yeah, I am the walrus, surrounded by miles of ice, and the only bird in sight can't fly (but they swim real good). There's one now--pops out of the water and slides on his stomach across the ice. He doesn't trust me, thinks I might eat he lets his slide continue until he's back into the cold, cold water. "Hello, goodbye," I think.
There could be a pink sunset; there could be an azure sky; across the road the grass might be five-feet tall in the strawberry fields, forever providing shelter from blistering summer suns; if I look real hard and don't let no snakes bite me, I might have strawberries for dessert tonight.
The sounds of crows and frogs could be playing in a cacophony and yet still convey the beauty of nature--I don't know; my mind is blank. And I don't have words for the waves of light and sound flowing into my eyes and ears.
I used to have words. I had a lot of words. I was filled with words. I couldn't take a crap without a poem seeping from my head. I once tore up the cardboard center of a toilet paper roll while I was on the john; I didn't want to lose the words that were in my mind. I didn't want to forget. Now, that's not a problem. When you don't have any words, you don't have to worry about them. You don't have to carry around a little pen and notebook in your front pocket like a geek. Elaine hated that. She always told me to stop it; she thought I looked like the biggest nerd with that stuff so conspicuously placed in my shirt pocket. Eventually, though, she gave in and stopped bugging me about it. That was because she got SO tired of me constantly asking her for a pen, which I knew she kept in her purse (a pretty one--it was gold plated). It seemed like every five minutes I was asking, "Got a pen, Elaine?"
Finally she told me one day, "Baby, you're a rich man, go buy your own damn pen!" That wasn't exactly true. I've never been rich. But I got the point. And I got my own pen.
Now, I live on a mountain. I rarely go outside. I don't know why. I's not that I don't go outside; it's that I stay inside. It's not that I'm afraid of what's out there...or that I'm not interested in what's out there; it's that...I don't want to feel alive. I don't want the breeze against my skin. I don't want the sun heating up my hair. I don't want to feel rocks beneath my feet or hear the sounds of a natural earth around me.
I want to be like my computer. Full of tasks and processes--lots to do, many distractions, but not a single thought to confirm existence. (I don't think; therefore, I'm not.) I need to be distracted. I need my mind to forget that I'm alive, because if it remembers, it will want to kill me.
It's called "suicidal ideation." It means my thoughts will always seek a way to end this life. Like the arrow of a compass--never satisfied with its current direction, always searching for that magnetic "N"--my mind turns toward the only thing that seems to matter. In this case, though, N stands for "nothing."
I suppose it could also stand for "nowhere," "nil," or "nada." There's probably another word I haven't thought of that would fit better. But that's how this all started, isn't it? Standing on a mountain with no words. Maybe if I wasn't alone, if I had someone to love, my head would find an S or would find attraction in the way nature intended: a healthy, non-magnetic, non-suicidal "presence" to glom onto. My lips crack into an awkward, wry smile--"It's so cliché," I say to myself. "You think you need distraction; you think you need words... All you really need--all you love."

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Lockslie Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2014  Professional Artisan Crafter
Happy Birthday ;)
DerelictVampire Featured By Owner Mar 30, 2014
Thanks a lot, man! :D
L-A-Addams-Art Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
happy birthday  how old are you 200? 300?  heee
DerelictVampire Featured By Owner Mar 30, 2014
Thank you! I'm now 440 years old, but I don't look a day over 300.
In all those years I've gained and lost a vampire's fortune, and I must beg by the roadside with a sign that says, "Will work for blood."
L-A-Addams-Art Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
ehheeheeee love it!
Midnightwaterlilly Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
DerelictVampire Featured By Owner Mar 30, 2014
Thanks so much! :D
Sallinillas Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank-you-for-watch by KmyGraphicHug by KmyGraphic
Mummbles48 Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2014

Thank you so much for the watch!!


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