Crazy…and almost too damn crazy, and that word, crazy, such an interesting word. But aren’t they all?

Words interest me, and why? Because they’re in my damn head, which allows me not to doubt my existence, which I would love to do, and damn, I’m a human. I can’t get over, that I’m a human. 

HUMAN and ALIVE, WORDS in HEAD, and so simple for you to just pass by the days with, like a goldfish in bubble bath; another one of those age old rhyming patterns, passed onto us, the kids, the youth, from you, those, them-now- dead, by history, and when I really think about this, about my existence and the shame of my damn frivolous mistakes, about actually being what-I-am, a Human; when I think about these sorts of words I become sober, straight eyed and dead centered focused upon analytically westernized modes of reasoning, and I see through space-time, still not one word, in most philosophies, but should be, because, it is, one damn thing, not two damn things.

And I dream in words and they fall in front of my eyes and are broken apart like particle explosions that keep me warm at night. All these words that make up all these concepts that are one in the same; laws made out of words that are facts, human behaviors, but I’m told that none of this is necessarily true, only sufficient enough to be thought of as a socially molded truism.

Somewhere along the line as a society we started to divide words like people, and this has played a large role in how these concepts and words interact within the very fabric of who we are as a culture, a country, as humans, as fundamental and existential beings, and it affects-disturbs-modifies and distresses our sciences and mathematics and political minds, and it distorts our vision of the future. It negates our past. It shadows us from knowing who we really are. 

It’s just… it’s just been, so damn weird, so damn weird. Crazy…and almost too damn crazy, and that word, crazy, such an interesting word. But aren’t they all?

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