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Sleeping a lot but still remaining tired makes one question themselves. What have I been doing with my life that makes me fall asleep every time I sit down on a padded surface, whether it is a rug, lounge chair, or stool at work? Am I addicted to stimulation, and thus, my body naturally balances this addiction with sleeping at random intervals? Maybe, it is because I do not eat meat, but who really needs protein anyway?

Yesterday I went to a memorial service, among other things. I did not know the guy. I knew his wife. But finding myself completely connected with him kind of made me wish I went to random funerals more often. First of all, I do not cry much, and I cried at the service. It would be beneficial if my body produced more tears. Also, I am quite pessimistic when it comes to life. Going to the service made me think that maybe there is some meaning in it all, if only a little.

Lives are just so fascinating. We might not do much in the grand scheme of things but seeing what one person has done with 20, 40, 60 some years is illuminating. They obviously touched people’s lives. Hell, I was sitting there, crying, touched without even knowing the damn guy. Do a little, meet people. It’s something.

Of course, funerals always make one question themselves. What if I am addicted to stimulation because I want words of inspiration to be said at my memorial service? I should start befriending comedians or poets before I die just to ensure that the speeches will really make me look good. I guess, in the end, everyone looks good.

So what have I been doing with my life that makes me fall asleep and never feel fully awake? Obsessing about the end, obviously.

Thanks to Thanksgiving break and much much coffee, I have created my first zine! Monday I will go around and distribute them. I will send anyone free copies of my zines if they promise to write me back a letter or reaction or a zine of their own. Email me your address or comments to wearealwaysmortal@yahoo.com.

“Art does not hurt us. The tears that we shed at a play are a type of the exquisite sterile emotions that it is the function of Art to awaken. We weep, but we are not wounded. We grieve but our grief is not bitter.” – Oscar Wilde

age: 78

location: Montana

Sometimes I wake up questioning my sanity. I hear dreams evolve from what you think of two hours prior to falling asleep. So when I wake up after dreaming of giraffes dying their fur brown while carrying a machine gun in their hand, I have reason to be worried.

It’s not just that. There’s an intense pain in my right index finger and my hip when I try to kneel or stand up or walk up or down stairs. Mentally, I’m not too well either. Sometimes, I find myself completely lost in my Montana home in which I’ve never moved out of. Suffice to say I think I am dying.

So the other day, I made a list of the things I want to do before I die. It was a short list, mainly because I don’t have many expectations for life, but a list nonetheless.

1 – Cheese fries. I want to try cheese fries.

2 – Meet a politician cop that I can respect.

3 – Find the best piece of literature ever written.

As you can see, I had a lot of work to do. I made it a little easier by changing the respectable politician to a respectable cop because I don’t have a lot of time, ya know? And it takes a lot of time to achieve the impossible.

The next morning, I call my friend May Atwood, whose husband owns a motorcycle, and I asked if she wanted to give it a spin with me. Maybe take a day trip, I said. Really, I just needed a way out of this town if I wanted to get my hands on some cheese fries.

May, being the doll that she is, agreed and picked me up. She rolled up in one of those bikes with handlebars real high, and I hopped on, and we set off in the wind. I felt just like Peter Fonda in Easy Rider except that May and me were two aging women with grey hair and a helluva slow metabolism.

You see, Montana isn’t home to many burger joints. Towns in general are scarce, and I can’t say I’ve had a yearning for anything different. I wouldn’t want to be driving through any other terrain except that of Montana’s.

May just kept driving, never looking back at me as to when she should stop. She’s a free spirit, that one. When I did see a fast food restaurant up in the distance, I had to tap her shoulder and ask if she was hungry cause I sure was, I said.

We pulled up to Mickey D’s and my legs were weak with anticipation. I went up to the nice young man at the counter and asked him very slowly if he had any cheese fries. “Cheese fries, hmm,” he said, “We don’t but I’m sure we could melt some cheese and put it with your fries.” My heart sank.

“Oh there is no need to do that.” And I turned around and left even before May walked in the door.

“I thought you were hungry,” she remarked.

“Oh this place is trash,” I said because if I was going to do this then I was sure as hell going to do it right.

We hopped back onto the bike and drove on ahead, leaving that so called fast food joint in the dust. The state was coming to an end though, not that Wyoming looked much different, but we were getting pretty far out there. You always think that you could just keep going and going before you realize at some point you have to turn around and go home. May would’ve kept going for days if I hadn’t suggested we go back.

What was I thinking, looking for cheese fries? Maybe I am going about this all wrong. Life is not a checklist. Still, I must carry on.

And that’s when I saw it! About 200 meters ahead. It had the lights on top and everything.

“Hey, May, why don’t we see what this baby can do!”

She revved up the engine and we were about going 100 mph when we passed the cop car. Sure enough, he came right up after us. May wasn’t the least bit fluster and then there I sat, more excited than when we went to Mickey Ds. I thought for sure this was a sign.

May lowered her sunglasses at the officer.

“Miss, do you know fast you were going?”

“Oh for god’s sake, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” she said.

“I’m going to need to see your license and registration.”

“Oh for god’s sake, I left it at home.”

I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to ask him of his family. And his career. And if he loved every moment of his life.

“I’m sorry miss but I need that license. I am going to have to right up two tickets.”

bastard.

You know what most people mutter under their breaths? Well, May says them out loud. I swear, she scared the shit out of that goody two shoes, play by the rules, son of a bitch. Still, he handed May the tickets and we sped off, getting home in no time.

By the time we reached my house, night had fallen. And when I mean night, I mean so black a light bulb is only glimmer, so silent the crickets make a melody, and so cold that no one would know its summer.

May and I said our goodbyes and as I watched her leave, I realized no one can come close to someone whom you’ve known your whole life, as I have with May. Regardless of whether or not you enjoy their company.

I sat on my porch that night to say my goodbyes. Sure, the trip was a bust. No cheese fries. No respectable cop. As for the best piece of literature, I would definitely have to say it would be this one.

Its really okay, though because you know what? Not once did I feel like dying and that’s the best way to go out.

“Me, wherever life is lived, O to be self-balanced for contingencies, to confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as the trees and animals do.” – Walt Whitman

“We have too high an opinion of ourselves. We align ourselves with the angels instead of the primates.” – Alan Fletcher

“If you look at the path, we do not see the sky. We are earth people on a spiritual journey to the stars. Our quest, our earth walk, is to look within, to know who we are, to see that we are connected to all things, that there is no separation, only in the mind.” – Native American

Every time one thinks, that thought exists.
That scene envisioned exists.
That person imagined exists.
Reality is only a fraction of what
Is real.

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