A year ago, also a lifetime ago, I flew to Peru. I had a whimsical urge to see if I could turn an otherwise boring ass, hum-drum travel day into an interesting and entertaining piece of visual art, an amalgamation of surrealism and beat poetry. I suppose it’s up to you whether I accomplished that or not but it sure was fun to make. My process was thus- I boiled the experience down in my mind then I poured the spoken reduction over the flash fried footage to be served upon this rectangular glass plate for your mental dining pleasure. It’s simply and honestly about, what it was actually about for me that day, but also every single damn time I fly- a contemplation of death. Death has been on my mind as of late because- reasons. I hope you enjoy
Say, do you think about death much? I think about it all the fucking time. But, I’ve got my reasons, I’ve got my rhyme.
Theres no point resisting, it’s just that before this life there was an eternity of us not existing and after death- forevers fold will reclaim the ill and old, swallowing and consuming, resuming in which the constituents that we call “me” will flee, life is short, just a smidge, this moment connects eternities you are the bridge.
I don’t mean that I think about death in a fearful or dark way, that’s not what I’m trying to say. It’s more like I’m a moth in the purple night, always flying towards that elusive light.
I hear my clock being ticked and just when I think I’ve got the whole death thing licked, I go fly on a fucking plane, oof what a pain. I’ve got my wheeled box and my extra socks and shit, did I leave something naughty in my carry-on bag? Am I gonna get locked up will I have to pick a rag? Well, fuck it, customs can suck it.
Just.. kidding don’t, you know, put me on one of those lists, I’m trying to do fucking art here that’s all. That's not my fucking bag,. Was that my name I heard them call?
Alright how does this damn thing work, uhhh, Anywho, there’s this thing that monks do. They meditate in graveyards because, you see if there’s a belief you hold you have to be bold and push past the salves and comforts that are meant to quench all that hot fear and, oh looky here, hello my dear, y’all having fun is it true? Yeah we.. are.. too, I.. Guess, shit, I digress.
Not a fan of being packed in a can with all these motherfuckers, like a sardine, know what I mean? But I do enjoy observing humans in their un-natural habitat walkin’ around like that but what I’m saying in fact: there’s not much anymore that pokes my amygdala gets my goose than riding in a fucking plane.. alright time to get loose..
Numbers and carpets, my own depths I must plumb, excitement is rising I might mentally cum. Bag on my back, box on the floor, I can hear death taunting as I get close to that door.
Yep, nothing like a plane ride to remind you of the forever slump nap in the airport of the eternal, nature sucks you back into the quantum womb so fiercely maternal
It’s all about perception see, it’s just an exercise a lens thing, change the color of your mind ride the metal wing and rise then, surprise! Look at this airport art, looks like toilet paper stuck up a wormhole’s ass, and really needs to fart. I don’t judge but that quantum shits not gonna budge.
Humans in their un-natural habitat, you know where it’s at, still gathering round the watering hole predator and prey now explain their roll, with delicate fingers and blunt teeth, a jungle of plastic we do bequeath, we lost our hair we lost out tail, just drink the water then bail
How many licks to get to the center of a wrinkly pink meat pop, “however many it takes just don’t stop” but how many motherfuckers does it take to give a plane an enema? 6 to watch 1 to do “we don’t like plane poo, once you start don’t stop and don’t you spill a single drop”.
At some point you’ve gotta pull your head out of the rosy asshole of the collective perspective, drip drop, drip drop, drip drop, only you can make it stop.
But if you work reeeal hard blood, bone, nose to the stone maybe you could be a bronze face right here in this place. No one will notice, you won’t get thanks, when you’re dead all you were, gets distributed to banks
You’re just a number to them, a squiggly line, if that’s how you roll then cool that’s fine.
But here’s a trick, wait is that a drippy dick? Did they get that in here by truck? Oh shit there’s another one, dicks in the airport what the fuck? See what I did there? It’s about attention if you care, uhh I’m trying to take a piss in here, maybe try not to stare.
Airport fashion show, reach down and touch your toe, there’s a yoga called fun, you can even use your tongue.
Busy busy like a bee but what’s on the inside you’ll never see, we all smile, for a while. We wear it like a mask and taking that shit off is a really big ask.
A bing and a voice and like a carnival rube, I shoot like a sperm down the plastic white tube to the aluminum egg and I always touch it and I beg, “don’t fucking crash, ok? I’m not inclined to die today” But then I relax into it and remember, “hooray!” I’m about to fly through the atmosphere with a roar and a boom, kinda wish though, I had a little more legroom.
Are you picking up what I’m putting down? Things can get boring here on the ground. Gravities hug familiar and near, buckle up and taste your own salty fear. Like I said it’s good to plumb your depths or you’ll never know, board the fucking plane it’s time to go. You know a thousand different people see a thousand different you’s. Boy it’s getting crowded I hope this plane has booze. Look at all these electrified meat golems made of stardust who harbor unto themselves an entire cosmos of viruses and bacteria, cells and DNA. You’re a fucking miracle that’s what I’m trying to say. Death pshaa, it’s not even a fucking thing, energy is never created or destroyed to what do you fucking cling? Wait, what’s that weird vibration thing? “She’s breaking up captain!”
Engines start whining we’ll be airborne in a bit. Oh, great NOW I have to fart, or wait is that a shit?
What’s that cranking noise? It’s fine.
What’s that shaking? It’s my leg it’s mine.
Why are we swaying? I bet the wheels are loose.
How does this fucker even fly?? Two wings on a caboose!
This is getting long yeah, I know wussup? Here’s a little memo, I don’t give a fuck. Landing soon fix your hair, sure am glad I don’t fucking care
Look at that we didn’t die, we made it here the wifey and I and our companeros we all travel well, relax into the fear flames and it ceases to be hell. Speaking of hell, we’re at LAX for a 3-hour layover. A drinky poo I’d like but don’t need, why does everyone in LA smell like weed? They don’t even finish their ceilings and shit, lets pontificate just for a bit.
There is a message here that I’m trying to say,
We grind and we grind every fucking day.
We get lulled into comfort, security makes us blind,
Do something different or scary and you’ll find,
that in the back of your mind behind your thought
It’s pristine and free from all the lies you’ve bought.
There aren’t any shortcuts you gotta do scary shit.
Lube yourself with determination, or maybe just spit.
These things are pretty handy though, take a break where you can.
Cuz eventually you have to navigate in the quagmire, oh man.
It’s like a shuffling deck of cards, cards of meat, zigging and zagging on tired ass feet.
Look at this shit hardly a seat.
It’s about the moments you know? Who cares where you go.
Its about wide eyed wonder, there’s nothing outside of now to plunder.
Speaking of ceilings and a drip, its leaking in here what a trip.
Why does it smell like gasoline should I fear?
Fuck it I’ll just drink my bloody Mary then maybe disappear.
(sigh) Man I could do this all day long,
everything sounds cool with a funky background song.
But we’ve got another 9 hours in a plane, I wonder if that drips gonna stain?
See how the mind do, it won’t shut the fuck up.
I just let it pour out I prefer an empty cup.
Let’s wrap it up, back in the tube, the fear has subsided no longer a noob.
“I’m not gonna touch the plane this time”
(touch the plane or you’ll crash)
“I’m not touching the plane this time”
(touch the plane or you’ll burn to ash)
“I’m not touching the fucking plane this time”
(touch the plane or you’ll die)
Fuck it touch the plane, make yourself feel safe, that’s why.
This is it folks are you still fucking here? Being brave doesn’t mean that you don’t feel fear. Imma break it down here’s what you do, it’s just like you’re getting a fucking tattoo. The more you clinch up the more it will burn, mastery doesn’t just happen it’s something you earn Take a breath relax into your seat, loosen your muscles wiggle your feet.
If you blow up, you won’t even know instead think of all the cool places you’ll go,
Wow, this is one big ass metal Twinkie, man something in here aint right someone left it stinky.
Well thanks for coming along on my little monologue thing, gave me something to do and someone to bring, I like hanging out, just me and you. It’s true it’s not sass…
Innit crazy though, you tap on some glass, then show up at some big ass geometric buildings like hollow concrete giants lying dead on their sides, metal flies landing and taking bits of its meat away every day and you drag your plastic wheeled rectangles around to zig and to zag then into the plane bathroom to shag and you ride the shaky hollow metal sausage, weee through the upper atmosphere for 9hrs then geee next thing you know you’re in motherfucking Lima, Peru! Toodaloo.
Share this post