In the future I see, the bottom feeders are the breadwinners.
The more I meditate on my life's great, long loves, the more my dashboard instruments indicate I'm hurtling toward a future of contented poverty as isolated as it is crowded with friends and lovers.
My dreadlocked or buzzed head bobbing under cans for LIFE, always a close rapport with my Wall Street Rapper. And more, not less, of the love/hate sword fight (more love, more love!) with Rence -- we're the dueling duo, fragile and invincible depending on when you ask who.
And music. Good godsmack, the music. No work and all play, lots of play, will be the very hard work of my life.
(I don't know what it is about Ben Kenney that makes all of this so crystal clear and stressful, but exciting, bright and inspiring, like a sun shower.)
Tours, recording, vlogs, intimacy with anyone who will listen and humility, humility, serenity. Hyperconnectivity. Everybody's hustlin'.
Balance. Yoga for the ears and wardrobe. Heavy metal, folk. Jazz. Electro, dance, pop. Post-punk. Brutal militarism, whatever.
Baggy, baggy pants. RJD2's "Chicken Bone Circuit." Don't know why he named it that way, but there's a reason for everything.
There's a reason for everything.
No waste! A life of fertilizing my jelly garden with last week's trash, filling my little clutch car with eggshells and walking on rubber everything molded from the melted down spoils of deep sea waste scrapers.
In the future I see, the bottom feeders are the breadwinners.
And vice versa, of course. Everything's a mirror, and there's always a parallel universe behind it. Remember that.
I will roll my flat feet across flat ground in flat city grids, singing for my dinner and making videos about everything.
And I will never be lonely for long.
Labels: autobiographical, music



