Dearest Universe,
I am hopefully soon to begin fulfilling a promise I made to you. If not exactly to you, it was a promise, at least about you. See, if you love somebody, truly care for them as I care for you, then everything they poured their heart and soul into becomes something to cherish as you cherish them. Why? Because a bit of that heart and soul remains in all that meant so much to them. And maybe I want to safeguard whatever I can, even as my heart breaks for all I couldn't. If it meant something to you, then it means something to me. If I am to truly honor your memory, then I will honor your likes, loves, passions, hopes, and dreams, safeguard them as I would my own. Even in everyday conversation, I still speak of you, for there is so much in every day that reminds me. I seem to keep an image, an impression, an echo that I can never allow to fade. But, you are so much more than an echo to me.
What ruins all time travel stories is that planet Earth isn't just sittin' pretty in space. The Earth orbits the sun. The entire solar system orbits the center of our galaxy, which is also in motion through space. Sadly, 1985 is not just a when, but also a where. So, our 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 needs to also be an NCC-1701. I wonder just how far through space I have traveled since I was born. Long long ago, in an empty space where a planet used to be. Of course, how far is meaningless without a point of reference, and there is really no such thing as a fixed point in space without references. Relative to earth, I've gone nowhere. Pick a random galaxy, however, and I've been at Ludicrous Speed all the while. Ah, science be praised. No fixed points in space, nor in time. It bends and twists and can even turn inside out. I really wish I could go back in time. Though if alternate universes don't exist, I have already seen the future. And friends, I am sick of this future. I really hope the possibilities out there are endless enough that I may see you again. Could there be a rewind? At least Pause? Life needs time-outs. You know, like if things get to be too much, we each get three time-outs. And maybe there are days we can just call due to rain. Don't get me wrong. I've been rockin' and reelin' non-stop for decades now. Still, a moment to get my head together would sure be nice. Man, I'm tired. This world has no real plans for giving me a break. And it also seems I can't be satisfied with anything. I want to be left alone, yet I complain about being lonely. Does that make any sense at all? It would seem my only reason left for living is so a certain scumbag ex-spouse won't get a chance to live off of my corpse. I could also add one positive reason to live: keeping my sister's memory alive. But otherwise, it seems there's just no longer any point in this bullshit. And if I am looking for validation, absolution, yadda yadda Yoda, then that deep dark vortex of social media is certainly not the answer. A wall of politics. A wall of dogma. A wall of materialism. A big declaration of "Hey, look at what I've got!" The great wall of everything wrong with this world. A wall of strangers, brick by brick, block by block, a mighty tower of the obvious reasons I could never belong. We are not sheep to be herded. We are not wallets to be picked. We are not talking points to be spread. We are not boxes to be checked. We are not data to be collected. We are not numbers. I've got a name. And no politician, no pundit, no data junky, is going to tell me who or what I am. Suffice to say, I am a human being. Anything beyond that is none of their business. I'm just tired, that's all. I really could use a break. Not very likely, though. If this world didn't stop for me in 2022, it most certainly won't now. Ah, the not so subtle signs that one just might need a minor vacation from reality. And The also not so subtle reality that such ain't happening soon. Life is a spinning wheel that stops for no one. One's just got to get a good running start and hope they land in a safe, dignified position. It's like roulette, but we're the ball. Place your bets and good luck.
Oh, the thoughts an old song can conjure, the highs and the lows of that long ago roller-coaster, the crash of an illusion like the waves to the rocks. Of a less knowledgeable version of myself, far from perfect, but still having deserved far better than what befell. And the wonder of the likeness to having another feel the way or go as far for me as I did for them. It's not something I would throw away. Life is a hell of a thing, my friends. If life is like a song, let's see what else is in the playlist. I see people in my former situation, and my heart goes out to them. I have learned a lot through difficult times. You need a fully conscious mind to deal with things like that. Drinking is a definite no-go. The only time to drink is when you are happy in the first place. Otherwise, stay out of that bottle. Drinking to forget is a lot like fighting for peace or screwing for virginity. I promise you'll spend your time dwelling on the very thing you wanted to forget. Maybe getting all of that emotion out, crying for a few hours could have a positive side effect, but I would imagine healthier ways of doing that. My therapy is Doctor Blog-ieo, among other things. I wish I could have had this particular wisdom decades ago. It would have served me well. I agree with Doctor Soran, the villain from Star Trek Generations. Time takes away so much, too much. I guess the only difference between us is I wouldn't destroy a whole solar system to get back to the Nexus (Definition for non Trekkers) (Basically the space Matrix, except much better because it gives you back everything time has taken) But... I would do almost anything short of that. Love and belonging is a powerful thing. Basically, most of we humans happen to crave it. Who doesn't want to be loved? Who doesn't want to belong? It can override all logic and reason. The good? It can motivate ordinary people to do great and wonderful things. The bad? It can motivate ordinary people to do terrible things, plus what do you think gives cults their power? Being a decent, moral, kind human being with some class involves no check boxes, no demographics, no creed, gender, race, or any of those yadda yadda Yodas. Because I've seen many good people in all those categories, but also a few creepos. In ALL categories. Just as it is inaccurate to mistrust someone because they're this or that or yadda, It is also inaccurate to overly trust someone for the same reason, also dangerous. I honestly believe most people are good and kind and that the jerks only seem so numerous because they're jerks. Snap judgments may save us a lot of time, but they can exclude the good while letting in the bad. To me, it's not check boxes, but levels of trust. Some I trust only with trivialities. Some I trust with a few serious things. Some I trust with most everything. A rare few, I would pour out my heart and tell my soul to. But, my dearest sister is no longer here. So that rare few is now a rare zero, except for here in these letters to my universe. Yes, I am tired, long-term tired. Even stars can run out of light to shine, return to the formless void, supposedly there before a supposed god grandly designed this cluster-flark. Oh, and the wonders of the human body. I hate being a biological organism. I want an android body that doesn't feel crappy for no reason, stronger, beautiful, more in touch with my soul. A brand new CPU and chips with sharper memories, except for the certain ones I will delete forever. The human body is a prison, and the mind feels like solitary confinement. I would like out, please. Too bad the technology is probably centuries away. By then, I guess I will have been long paroled in the old-fashioned way, same as so many others have gone before. Yep, Romeo and Juliet, together in eternity. Though maybe had he been more observant, maybe had she let him know about that whole temporary sleep thing, they might have been together here on Earth, too. Geesh, Shakespeare! You are one gloomy dude. And coming from somebody as grim as me, that's pretty heavy. Wow, deeper and darker is the rabbit hole, curiouser, and curiouser my thoughts become. I don't know what I'm after anymore, anything but my own advice. I can see the point on both ends of certain arguments. I can see the hurt from both sides. I can see situations with the water so far beneath the bridge it can't even be seen, much less reached. All I know is we forgive others more for our own sake and how the land of right can be a very lonely place. I'm not saying to never take a stand. I'm just saying pick your battles, choose your ground, and build a sturdy castle, but don't forget the bridge. That being said, I also say that not everybody deserves that bridge, nor do you owe that bridge to everyone. For some, the moat with the hungry piranhas, crocodiles, and sharks with frickin laser beams attached to their heads is quite deserved. The difference between a mistake and a deliberate wrong is intent. The former is forgivable. The latter, in most circumstances, is not. From what I remember about that funhouse ride of long ago, is there was also this thing I call the boomerang phase, soon followed by what I called the tennis phase, where it's back and forth with your opponent. When this happens, the object is to claim victory by not letting the ball back in your court. He may think he's winning, but believe me he's not. Neither is she. You are. Give it a few years and you'll see, too. Kick her out and send her on to him. Game point. No "love" lost. Karma will give them all the hades they deserve and more. Never be anybody's Option B.
I have to admit that when I speak of letting go and getting past, I'm not so good at such things either. Maybe some I have, but it is also likely there are some things I'm never going to be able to move beyond. I can forgive the ex for all the horrible things said about and done to me. Not so much, when it comes to how my children were hurt and continue to be affected by her thoughtless actions. Though it hurts me deeply to have lost my grandparents and other dear elders of my family, I also accept it is a circle of life sort of thing, as my turn will be in the fullness of time. I accept this less so when it comes to my mother, even though the whole fullness of time thing still applies, well because that's my momma. As for my baby sister, eight years my junior, I will never accept the unfairness brought upon her by fate. My time should have happened before hers, and both our times should have been at least decades away. I am angry with fate and the gods on her behalf, and I am also angry on my own behalf. Because I needed my baby sister to talk to, I needed that two-way crisis line. Why would I call a damn stranger? A stranger will never talk me down from the figurative edge. Only she of the similar brain was ever capable of that. No stranger will ever be allowed to hear my soul. Never, not ever. I blame the gods for theft and a murder. down will never forgive them, nor myself for that matter. There are things I will carry to my own grave. Okay? Okay. I think it's time for another subject change clean cup move down. Hatters be hattin' my friends. Clean cup, mooooove dooooown! Watch for mad watches! Mad watch! Mad watch! Yeah, two days slow. Am I the ship of Theseus? Am I the Metamorphis? Am I a completely different person? The only certainty is times have changed and I am not the same. Maybe the seeds were always there, buried in my core, hidden from even my former self. Yes. Time.... Has changed. All I am left with is a name that no longer has the meaning or power it once did. I am more this new name. The seas of this life have been rough, dealing its damage, and I've replaced these bits and pieces of myself, one by one, time after time. Somewhere along the line there was this point of no return, not even a desire to return. It's like, I wasn't.... finished. Not that I am now, but certainly more along the way. Yes. I am that Ship Of Theseus. I am the Metamorphis.
Instead of Disneyland, there should be sixties land, kinda Monterey pop, Fillmore East and West, and Woodstock experience, not to mention the Jimi Hendrix experience.... The slogan could be, "The trip begins here." Before and after pictures could be Doctor Timothy Leary 1946 and 1967. Younger me would definitely go. Present day me would struggle not to. There was a bit of magic in the music of that era. Music used to be my doorway. Now, it's just a way to get through my days. I like the 50s to the 90s, but for now, it's the boss. Yes, that boss. And while Bruce Springsteen's "Born To Run" befits a motorcycle drive down highway 9 better than a forklift drive down a factory line, it still goes okay. Besides, nobody can accuse me of not listening to "The Boss" at work. I updated my work tunes last night as I was getting bored with my old ones. I stream absolutely jack shit, BTW. These are files I have had for better than 20 years. I don't have to worry about bandwidth or signal. I don't shell out money every month for something I don't own. I'm from the good 'ol 20th century, my friends. I can get with the times on a lot of things, but not the insanity of not owning your tunes. I bought them in the 1990s, and they're still with me today. also have no patience for ads either. My tunes, my time. I like it this way, and I do this my way or the highway. That's the way I rock. That's the way I roll.
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