It was one of those days; a night time story

Nothing was going right.   I mean I was at the gym getting ready for a spin class and, what do you know, the instructor doesn't show up.  Then I go to exercise on one of those fancy new elliptical machines and, what do you know, I can't get there because my pants get all balled up in a knot and I trip and can't seem to walk anywhere because I keep tripping each time that I stand up.  I seem to be making a fool out of myself and everyone is watching.

So I'm sitting on my butt, legs all awkward and bound up by my pants and, what do you know, I see this dude with long hair and his girlfriend sitting at the other end of the bar which must of been in the gym the whole time.  Imagine a bar in a gym.  What a concept!  So I think that my luck is changing, and for awhile it was because now I'm up at the bar and the couple is giving me a drink out of their litre bottle of beer.   And I don't even know what happened to my pants anymore but I know that I can walk again.   And the beer they were given me was my absolute favorite:  Cherry Bourbon Barrel Stout.   You know the kind I had several weeks ago at the Rotary Happy Hour.  So everything is going along fine and I'm having the best of times and I'm thinking this couple is very cool.  And we had a long discussion on many far reaching and important subject matters.   I don't recall any of them now, but I know I was left with the distinct impression that I had found new friends.   The best of friends.  So we left and exchanged facebook information and promised to keep in touch and travel to Kentucky together this summer to go down the Bourbon trail and attend bluegrass festivals.  And that's when I thought things were looking up.

But the next thing I know I was outside staring up at the nighttime sky trying to fall asleep.  And I couldn't go to sleep and it was getting me down.   So I tried meditating and counting my breaths and that didn't seem to help either.  In fact, I started getting worried because all this breath counting business was making were worried because I could feel by respiration rate increasing and my breathing was getting labored.  I'm not sure what labored breathing is, but I had it and I know it wasn't good for my health.  Then my respiration rate kept increasing and I thought, hell, if my respirations per minute exceed 30 that definitely is not a good sign and if it keeps up for the next year or so I'm sure to significantly shorten my life.   I haven't read any medical studies of that actually happening, but I'm sure it has.   And its not healthy for me.

Then I just remembered to open up and let my breath breathe me as opposed to the other way around.  And then I remembered that each breath was a gift and must be appreciated.  Then I felt my chest and abdomen relax and I thought things were looking up again.  And my breath slowed down.  Way down.   And I was just barely breathing but it felt so good and I thought that this slow breathing is so healthy and if I can just maintain this for the next year or so I'm sure to live forever.  I haven't seen any medical studies supporting this, but I'm sure then exist somewhere and if not I'll have to create a podcast about it so that it can become true.

So there I was, all this slow breathing and all and I'm thinking things are looking up and I felt everything about me begin to dissolve and start to levitate.  And I'm thinking that this is way way cool.   And I think that I can just float anywhere in the universe.  And I proceed to do just that, and I'm going all over the place in the solar system and beyond.  Then just when I think that things are really really looking up I get propelled back down to Earth at a frightening velocity and I go crashing into the side of a building in the middle of a huge transformer grid.  I'm not sure how I did it but I went crashing through the wall of the building and amazingly I was not hurt.  But I knew I shouldn't be in the building so I hid underneath one of the tables and tried again to go to sleep.  But the utility workers were outside and I knew one of them would find me, and sure enough one of them lifted up the latch on the table and found me and told all his co-workers to come help him.

So now my little transformer room is crowded with people.  And I think its going to be one of those days and not end well and then all of a sudden, without me doing anything about it all the workers are now regular people, of all shapes and sizes and they are all smiling at me.

And then I think:   this has all been just a lucid dream.   Hey ma, look at me, I'm in the middle of a great lucid dream and I can do whatever the hell I want.  And I announce to the group:  "Hey people, we are in the middle of a lucid dream.   And we can do anything we want.   So lets make this the best lucid dream ever.  Whose with me on this?"  And the group loved it.  Everyone was congratulating each other for being in such a cool dream.  And this lady next to me with the biggest round face smile you have ever seen tells me, "I'm with you, we all are."

And I feel great.  And I never want this dream to end.  But then it does and I'm back in the room with the old goose down comforter that always makes me sneeze I remember I have to get ready for a trial.  And I knew then that it was going to be one of those days.

I sort of help MC the bike club meeting.   I smuggle in wine.  Love loved it.  Its the same old decatur story:  coco mero, tj maxx, the library, big lots, and of course, that master of all that is bargain organic foods, the store formerly known as kroger.  in fact, its still known as that, to the best of my recollection.

It Wasn't a Rock

Standing on the ratio, inside my toes

Buffeted whither the west wind blows

They invited me to stay in the apartment.   So many people there to welcome me to the complex. Such reasonable rent.  But somebody had died right there.   In the room they wanted me to stay.  I suppose I could have dealt with it.   Maybe found some sleep in the dead room.  But I hate sleeping alone.  Especially with ghosts.

 But it didn't start there.  Before then, I left the only love I had ever known.  And when I go to the airport to pick up and drop off the Calders on airline drive I remember what it was like then in juxtaposition to how it is now and I know in my marrow that part of me has died.   Its like I'm a corn that was husked.  

See, I'm like that.  Throughout the re-evaluation.  Hanging at Trees Lounge.

So, do you get in a lot of fights?  What do you want to do?

I dunno.   Do you want to watch TV?  No.  Do you want me to take you home?  No.   I just want you to pour me some more wine see?  I don't care its all good:  malbec, cabs, zins, anything red you can't go wrong.   Its all there in my wine app.   Every last one of them.   A nice index to keep track of things.   For the only thing I do keep track of in my life in meticulous fashion is the wine I drink.

Are you calling me an idiot?

He'll be fine.  He just needs to flush out his system, like a radiator.

If when we kiss its not the same, you are not to blame.  Its not your fault because your heart has changed its mind.   You didn't mean to be unkind.   I understand.  Little darling, you are not to blame.

Two against Oblivion

Hey, there is something very freaky going on next to me.  I suppose I have to deal with it.  The alternative is going shopping with my daughters.  And you know what I think about shopping.   So I better land my helicopter now and deal with the freakishness.  

So I land the helicopter and get out to look at the sphere levitating off the ground.  I know it wants to speak with me.  All those funky pulsating colors have to be some sort of language.  

Ugh!  The force is pulling me in.  I can't help but feel myself being sucked up into the sphere.  I wonder if there is room.   I wonder what's going to happen to me.

"Never fear mortal, I will save you.  You definitely don't want to get sucked in there.  Its a bad idea, trust me."

Thanks, the force drawing me in was incredible.  Thank you.

"I am Zachary.  And don't mention it.  Saving damsels in distress is my profession."

Well thank you Mr. Zachary.  I'm called Saint June.

"Can I buy you a drink June?"

No, that's fine.  I gave up everything but wine, tequila and  imperial stout.   So I'm not really drinking anymore.  Except those three.   And its not like I have them more than 4 or 5 times a week every other week.  So maybe next week.  Ok?  So do you have any ideas about what that sphere is?

"Its called an oblivion sphere.  People go in, but they don't come out.  Its like deadsville.  What's worse is its expanding.   At least a centimeter an hour.   In another ten thousand years it will suck the entire world in.   So we must fight it now.   We must save our great, great, great great grandchildren from this evil scourge."

Fine, but if its some kind of alien, you are one your own.  I hate aliens.  They are always slimy and smell bad.  The would probably mess up my mascara.

"Never fear, the sphere is not an alien device, but comes from humanities future.  Ten thousand years from now, the Helix corporation will destroy all of humanity with their unregulated use of high fructose corn sweetener and glutens.  The sphere was created as a last ditch effort to save humanity by transporting it into the past to repopulate the earth.  However, what they don't know is that when you are sucked into the future, you lose your past and present, and without the past and present, there is no future.   So like I said, we have to stop this now."

I'm in.  How do we stop it?

"We fly my spaceship into it and detonate the core reactor."

But won't that kill us?

"Of course, but that's a small sacrifice to preserve the planet.  Its just us two against oblivion."

Go ahead, Zachary, fly your little space ship in there.  I've got your back.

We are Small

"We are small, but the universe is not."

 A voice told him as a herd of Triceratops, hundreds of them, raced by in syncopated rhythm to the song "Wingsuit" by Phish which was streaming on his cranial feed.  It was a spectacular sight.  The thought occurred that it was almost like being there, almost like the real thing, but he knew such thoughts were a waste of time. For this was his reality--50 yard line seats for eternity.

"As long as you keep moving, you comfort your sense of proportion."

Not wanting to hear the voice, he adjusted his concentration to mid-alpha wave pattern 32-14ax.   The dinosaurs disappeared.   The display returned to the background default of the Orion Nebula.  Phish kept playing

"Enjoying yourself son?"

I am not going crazy, you're just the voice of my subconscious.  I don't have time to waste trying to figure out what unresolved psychological conflicts give rise to all this, and I am not going to listen to what you have to say.

"Why do you not wish to hear what can be heard so easily and therefore deny hearing anything at all?"

"Why do you not wish to see what can be seen so easily and therefore deny seeing anything at all?"

"Why do you not wish to feel what can be felt so easily and therefore deny feeling anything at all?"

You think that if you keep repeating it, I will pay attention?    What am I doing talking to a voice in my head anyway?  He returned to his monzu training remembering that this voice, like all patterns of thinking represent the bittersweet human compulsion toward repetition and completion.

"You are doing fine, your thoughts are nothing more than meaningless clouds passing across an endlessly blue sky."

What can I do to rid myself of this infernal voice?

 He switched the display to random.   He was now in a courtroom pressing a case against an insurance company for breach of contract.   His client, lets call him "Mr. X" had procured a life insurance policy on a spider.  The spider, named George, was a male golden orb weaver.  At the death of the spider, the insurance company was supposed to pay Mr. X $4000.  Which was all well and good I supposed.   Only one problem--how to prove that the spider had died?  Never fear, it was simple deduction.   The date of the life insurance policy showed that the Mr. X purchased it over 10 years ago.  Indeed, Mr. X forgot about the policy and only rediscovered it in an old box from his prior homestead.  Obviously if Mr. X forgot about the insurance policy, he would have also forgotten about the spider and could not prove that the spider had died.  However, in his closing argument to the jury, he eloquently pointed out that the average male spider (who is not a tarantula) lives at most 2 years and that it would have been scientifically impossible for George to still be alive.  Then in a masterstroke he tugged on the juries heartstrings which the final thought that Mr. X had paid premiums to the insurance company for the policy which adjusted for inflation would have totaled more than ten thousand dollars thus the life insurance policy was, in retrospect, a poor investment for Mr. X and it would be grossly inequitable to allow the insurance company to retain both the premiums and the death benefits.

"Bravo, bravo....you are quickly becoming one of my favorite archetypes, I think I will call you the bored attorney"

Concentrate, breath, the voice will eventually go away.

"No, you have it all wrong.  I'm ending the program.  You're next version will be much more interesting, I promise."

Never worry about what other people think of you, because no one ever thinks of you.

More Fun with Ketosis

Day 0:   735 p.m.   The last of the leg of lamb has been eaten and the Chateauneuf Du Pape consumed.

Day 1:  2:35 a.m.  I awake with a start, and not because Santa is coming down the chimney, but because its that time of the night.  Prior to the 18th Century, the natural circadian rhythm dictated that this middle of the night period would be designated as awake time, and all sorts of nocturnal activities would begin.  Now in this post industrial age, we are supposed to sleep through the night--except when we don't.

2:43 a.m.  The mindway app is opened.  In the game center, I notice that I have reached Bear Tier 5, which at the time of this publication rates me as the highest level player in the world with this app.  Of course, concentration is not intended to be a mental competition, but I'm still waiting for my trophy to arrive.

2:54 a.m.  I focus on a single point in the graphic novel "Saga" and feel my awareness recede from my eyes and forehead, to the central portion of my brain.  I'm not connected with my NeuroSky headset now, but if I were, you can rest assured that my meditation shield would be fully activated, and all my planetary defenses operational.

7:12 a.m.   My day starts with no food, only bulletproof coffee complete with ground vanilla, grass fed butter, MCT oil, ground maca.   The distant rumbles of hunger are already beginning.

11:56 a.m.  I don't eat lunch.

5:21 p.m.   I don't eat dinner.  I feel like the mice in the study on intermittent fasting that were being used as guinea pigs.

Day 2:  6:59 a.m.   My urine registers that I have mild ketosis.   Baby steps.

8:34 a.m.  Packing begins for the Colorado adventure involving the 50th anniversary of my parents.

1:35 p.m.   Are you kidding me?  A two hour flight delay?  That means we will miss the connection.

4:37 p.m.  Another two hour flight delay.  Focus on a point, keep breathing.  Smile at your daughters.

11:39 p.m.   Arrive in Grand Junction Colorado