Mickey Mouse Bullshit

Whenever someone writes about endurance my chest begins to tighten up like I could throw up the delicious ice-cream cone that I’ve just consumed.

I admire those who can take a lot without ever defending themselves. They take it, they swallow it and that’s the trouble gone.  Take the blame and that’s it. They love you for it, it’s as you’ve washed their hands clean from sin. Blame me and my heart will not be stirred by it at all. It’s the art of indifference. There is a lot to fight against, but there are people who are not worth the effort.  So I try to view it as a children’s game.

We come up with so many concepts; concepts that educate and inspire the young and the moment this one young person feels most alive is when he is most courageous and would gamble with his life if it came to it.  Years later, he’ll realize that experience is an influence that has implanted many seeds in his mind and body and they’re growing like diseases…One feels them when he shudders. This is how anxiety comes to life. But I ignore it. I try to view it as a children’s game as much as I can.

I know I’m in need of a territory that’s spacious enough to accommodate my mess, although I am not sure what mess, as I throw away a lot of things. Once it’s gone, I don’t think about it, no matter how attached I’d felt to the object. Maybe a person changes, after all, I don’t know. But really, the moment you view something like a children’s game, you no longer find the seriousness behind it all and you simply let go, because it no longer matters.

In the end, there are a lot of things that you don’t give a shit about, but you can’t make them go away. I forgot about those. If only scars were like bruises.

Once you have your shit together doesn’t mean you have gained faith, it simply means you have tidied up your kids’ toys, nothing else.  I think faith is something different…

On the other hand, playing a children’s game for real is a whole different scenario.  Two adults who play Mickey Mouse Bullshit is a sacred thing and I never realized the preciousness behind it. Games where losing and winning do not matter…

Don’t you sometimes close your eyes to teleport yourself somewhere? And the moment you open your eyes you’re still here. I guess this is what P. K. Dick meant when he said reality doesn’t go away.  To me, reality is the result of soberness so far stretched like the way you perceive things hours later after a joint. Sometimes the melancholy involved can be very romantic and you shed some tears of appreciation, but it also happens that you come to realize something unpleasant.

Like now, I feel hot, I feel heavy and I am not sure how long the ice is going to hold me. Do you ever try to look at your feet when you’re dreaming?  I don’t think it’s possible, but we can turn it into a children’s game and call it “Where are my feet?” This game will be of purpose. I need that.

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