Back to work Monday but slow down, rushing gets you
nowhere fast. Dream chasers hitting the speed bumps/roadblocks of normal work
day dreaming about a life full of Sundays. Dreams usually aren’t real – just our
subconscious fucking with us, or maybe it is all real just not on the same
reality plane as woke world, so idk man, have dreams and chase them but also
don’t become consumed by them because as I get older the more I realize how
important it is to fuck off, to not be productive at work because they ain’t
gonna give you shit but a hard time anyways, and just sit outside and enjoy the
spring because what the fuck if it’s your last?
The other night I sat in an old ass metal swinging
chair listening to the primordial symphony of spring peepers and assorted other
amphibious soloists and at one point it all died down, no discernible reason to
my stupid human brain, but I knew they’d bring that beat back, and they did,
with gusto. I could’ve slept right there dawdling in that swing looking up at
the sky after my eyes adjusted, able to see every tree, forever, just sleep and
sleep and sleep, wake up still asleep happily asleep finally rested the life
full of Sundays finally in effect.
But Monday beckoned and I had to go wash my
clothes and dry my goodwill work clothes on low tumble so they didn’t wrinkle
and hang them up and pretend that this was necessary. Half my closet is that shit,
at least the hanging part. Delusions, and dead dreams, washed and hung every
Sunday afternoon. So slow it down – ain’t no progress to get to, you push the
stone to the top and it’s gonna roll right the fuck back down as soon as you
stop pushing against it. And if all you do is push against it, you’re gonna
wear out way too fast. You’re only human; enjoy that shit.
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