And He Was Also A Necrophiliac

I remember this one time my friend and I were driving down this backwoods ass road that no one else was on but some wild looking animals and this sign was there that said, “Now Entering a Wild Area,” all official government like. No idea what that meant at all but we had been driving for ten or eleven hours at that point and things didn’t look good. The imagination ran wild and we threw on Rob Zombie‘s Greatest Hits. That shit was trippy. I don’t usually like scary things, and I was scared as fuck, especially since I wasn’t driving, but it’s fun to remember.

I was thinking today about memory and the future and such. I was thinking that the best thing to do is to consider the present a kind of workshop for making memories. And then completely forget about the future. And consider memories the foundation of my perception of life, and either focus on them or what is happening right now, and rarely think about the future. Because thinking about the future is where anxiety and dread come in, along with in some cases however rare excitement and anticipation. But who knows if there will be a future, so why dread it, and anyway dread just kills any pleasure you feel in the present.

It’s just another way of thinking about living in the moment. I always think about living in the moment but of course that’s easier said than done. So I was thinking that if my mind does wander, I should just think of memories, instead of making conjectures about the future.

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We Know Time

It was drizzling and mysterious at the beginning of our journey. I could see that it was all going to be one big saga of the mist. “Whooee!” yelled Dean. “Here we go!” And he hunched over the wheel and gunned her; he was back in his element, everybody could see that. We were all delighted, we all realized we were leaving confusion and nonsense behind and performing our one and noble function of the time, move.

Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Hell yeah, they knew time. And we know time. And I know I’ve got nine minutes until I really should start getting these V-Day preparations out of the way.

Yes these days really are passing quite strangely, what with this new way of perceiving them as transient, rather than “every morning a little birth, every night a little death,” which is a quote from somewhere I forget.

It is drizzling and mysterious in my head. One big saga of mist, it has been. But we’re all delighted, and the confusion and nonsense of the night before is behind us, and somewhere far ahead of us in the same sense, and all there is left to do is to move.

Time comes and time goes and everything really is strange and wild. The night comes but it is gone in the morning, only to come back again. It is nothing. It is physics. But anyhow it’s all vanished into so much soreness in the legs.

And so will pass the night ahead of us, since already it is behind us.

Buy the ticket, take the ride. As hideous as it is, I, too, have found it to be true.

To move, to move, to be in motion, that’s what time is, that’s how time goes, and that’s how we avoid time, and though we can never be friends, we can wave as we pass on the street.