Everything will be alright, just not in the way you imagine

Crazy old Mr. Cordyceps, remember reading about him in the local paper when the Humane Society came that one winter and took away all those mangy ponies he had, with ribs sticking out and hooves that needed trimming so badly they were starting to curve around? What ever happened to him, you ask?

He lived in that old house until it got so full of junk he never threw away that there was only room for the mice, then he moved into that old trailer in front, the one covered with the green algae because it was so shady under the big fir tree and it rained all the time. He lived in there with his dogs. In winter he let them sleep on the bed because he had no heat.

The neighbors complained about the dogs howling. When the Humane Society came for those, they found crazy old Mr. Cordyceps dead inside the trailer.

The dogs hadn’t touched him.

His house was full of musical instruments and boxes of doll clothes.

Most of the musical instruments were warped and broken, because the roof leaked and the windows were broken; or gnawed by mice. The neck of the banjo curved like a boomerang, but the trombone worked fine.

The trailer was full of styrofoam hamburger trays, all licked clean. There was a bag of onions, and a couple changes of clothes. There was a stack of notebooks on a table, with the years written on the front in ballpoint pen.

The last entry read, “Everything will be alright, just not in the way you imagine.”

How to justify your existence

First, get some DNA of the person who invented Daylight Savings Time. Or, not the person who invented it, but the person responsible for propogating it.

Someone is always responsible. If you cannot find them, ask your wife, she’s good at that sort of thing.

Hair or fingernail clippings will suffice. Sew them into a voodoo doll and follow normal voodoo procedures. Cause daylight savings time, man. Seriously.

Then go for a walk while it’s still dark, along the creek. It is five AM, not four AM despite what your phone says. Apparently you forgot the clock on your phone when you were resetting clocks yesterday.

Go walk in the dark. Are you walking? Is it dark? By the time you get to the bridge where you turn right to follow the bike path along the creek, you’re already wondering why you felt it necessary to justify your existence in the first place. A calmer voice in your head is beginning to tell you it’s not necessary. That existence is not something that requires justification.

DO NOT LISTEN TO THIS VOICE. If you want to justify your existence, ignore this voice even though it sounds reasonable.

Christ, it’s dark.

And yet, people are still driving around. Austrians are crazy.

Look who’s talking.

At least they’re not out walking around.

Keep walking until you think of a justification. Spring might work. Does spring justify your existence? Frog eggs? Or a journal full of words? Or the steadiness you can give a child dealing with rapid change? Can you teach someone something, like how to ride a bike or that finger snapping/bottle-cap shooting thing, or throat singing?

If you can teach throat singing, please mail me. I’ve tried to teach myself in the car but I keep passing out, which is dangerous when you’re driving.

There must be some way to justify your existence. Maybe you’re not thinking hard enough.

Maybe you just need a cup of coffee. A little caffeine and all these justifications will pop into your head.

Go back to the house and make some coffee.

Sometimes you are the hammer

And sometimes you are the anvil.

Sometimes you are the anvil, and sometimes you are the coyote.

Sometimes you are the coyote, and sometimes you are the roadrunner.

Sometimes you are the roadrunner, and sometimes you are the highway.

Sometimes you are the highway, and sometimes you are the bus.

Sometimes you are the bus, and sometimes you are the husky kid shouting crazy shit in the backĀ  seat so that everyone holds their pee from Omaha, Nebraska all the way to Salt Lake City, Utah.

Sometimes you are the crazy man, and sometimes you are the psychiatrist.

Sometimes you are the psychiatrist, and sometimes you are the asylum.

Sometimes you are the asylum, and sometimes you are the world.

Sometimes you are the world, and sometimes you are an idea of the world.

Sometimes you are an idea of the world, and sometimes you are a chai latte.

Sometimes you are a chai latte, and sometimes you are a girl standing in line thinking about how good a chai latte is going to taste.

Sometimes you are a girl standing in line thinking about how good a chai latte is going to taste, and sometimes you’re a guy standing in line thinking about how good the girl looks.

Sometimes you’re a guy standing in line, and sometimes you’re another guy standing in line, picking the first guy’s pocket.

Sometimes you’re the pickpocket, and sometimes you’re the wallet.

Sometimes you’re the wallet, and sometimes you’re the money.

Sometimes you’re the money, and sometimes you’re the drink.

Sometimes you’re the drink, and sometimes you’re the bartender.

Sometimes you’re the bartender, and sometimes you’re a rabbi, a priest, and Lindsey Lohan.

Sometimes you’re a rabbi, a priest and Lindsey Lohan, and sometimes you’re a chicken.

Sometimes you’re the chicken, and sometimes you’re the road.

Sometimes you’re the road, and sometimes you’re the chariot.

Sometimes you’re the chariot, and sometimes you’re the horse.

Sometimes you’re the horse shoe, and sometimes you’re the nail.

Sometimes you’re the nail, and sometimes you’re the hammer.

Regarding the world

The world is a reel played by a one-legged woman.