Well, we both got sicker than all get out by that evening--Especially me, thanks to the little snooze I took in the water, courtesy of that jackass Wonderaz. My truck barely made it to the ER at a little community hospital in Ozona, Texas. We sat there in the emergency room for over four hours; I was pukin' and hallucinatin', while Wonderaz tried to play grabass with the admitting nurse. Finally, Dr. Sanchez stumbled in, took one look, and instructed the nurse to admit us as he turned and hurried out, retching and gagging as he went.

They stuck us in the same room with just a flimsy curtain between us. The next day, Joeycat came down and tried feeding me some chicken soup. I was still feelin' puny, so my ol' pal Wonderaz grabbed the bowl, slurped it down, and then stretched back out on his bed. I could hear that jackass smackin' his lips, belchin' and fartin' while the divine Joeycat commenced to givin' me a full-body massage. Man, it was heaven!

Ol' Wonderaz just couldn't stand it that I was gettin' all the attention, so the next thing we know, he's over on my side of the room "lookin' for his medications". Trouble was, all he had on was one of those hospital gowns that does not cover the ass--y'all know what I'm talkin' about. That silly fucker kept bendin' over, lookin' under my bed, with his family jewels just a-swingin' free as you please. To make matters worse, his catheter was still attached and he'd pulled it tight as a bowstring across my bed.

I finally mumbled as loud as I could, "You stupid jackass, get back on your side of the room!" He replied, "Mmm-kay" and shuffled back to his bed. His foul displays, however, were far from over....
A few seconds later, we heard a buzzing, accompanied by sounds of "Oooh yeah...oooh boy....!" We pulled the curtain to look and were astonished to see Wonderaz face down on his bed, bare ass hiked up in the air, holding one of those little battery powered fans and blowing air on his ass. Joeycat just shook her head as she closed the curtain back. More, however, was yet to come....
Less than a minute later, we heard the radio crackle on and Marty Robbins soon filled the room--*Down in the West Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love.... * We could tell Wonderaz was also jumpin' up and down on his bed when, all of a sudden, "KA-BOOM! PANG! CRASH!" Before we could react, "riiiiip!". Down comes the curtain and there's ol' Wonderaz, gropin' around like a blind man without a cane.

We couldn't make out what he was trying to say as it sounded like he was yelling from the bottom of a well. It quickly became apparent he'd fallen from his bed; the battery-powered fan was jammed in his ass; and somehow, he'd managed to get his face lodged squarely in the middle of his bedpan. Other than that, he was buck-ass nekkid (except for that damn catheter tubing trailing from his pecker).

Oh, though Joeycat was laughing uncontrollably, she did try to help, but ol' Wonderaz just shoved her aside and went bumping and stumbling out into the hall. Unfortunately, at that precise moment, he ran into the local Sheriff's wife and got her tangled up in his catheter tube. Even more unfortunately, Sheriff Easley was right behind her, along with their daughter and the rest of her 5th grade class. As class sponsors, they were on a field trip to the local hospital.

We didn't actually see what happened next. We just heard what seemed like an endless series of metallic-sounding blows *pang-kong-ping-kank-ponk-ponk...", followed by the pitiful wailing and sobbing of a grown man well past his prime. Finally, things got quieter until all we could hear was the buzzing of that fan.

Oh well, me and Joeycat enjoyed our privacy after that. They transfered ol' Wonderaz to the big hospital in Fort Stockton. Several weeks later, I tried to ask him how he liked it over there, but he just looked at me real funny-like and started shaking. Amen.

Never in a coffee shop, either. I fucking hate coffee shops. Full of Phish and pretentious people. Besides, all those flavors confuse me. When I want coffee, I want coffee, not double-latte-tall-mocha-swiss-de-caff-frappeed-organic-pesticide-free-Tom-Collins-black with a whammy bar. Fuck all that. We would avoid those places like the plague and just hit the diners, with the other down to earth folks. I want to be waited on by somebody named Floris or Marjorie, not some bitch named Sunbeam.

In any case, in High School, I was also involved with the school newspaper. I was first a writer, then the editor of the features section, then by my senior year I was the Managing Editor (which is kinda like the Vice President). And this was a pretty large school too, large enough that when we ran an ad for a counseling hotline regarding questions of “sexuality”, the Reverend Fred Phelps started picketing us (you have not lived until you see your name on a gigantic sign that reads “*Your Name Here* Will Burn in Hell!!!)

Well, that year—my senior year--two people on the staff of the newspaper particularly stood out. One of them was the editor of the News section, name of Justin Ramirez. He was about 6 foot 6, one of the most popular kids ever, the school president, and had been on the Varsity basketball squad since he was a freshman, which was pretty amazing (fuck you MrSherman, this is a 6A school, some 6 thousand students). He was even being scouted to play for KU. A really great guy, charismatic and personable. And a true go-getter. Nothing could stop this guy. The guy most likely to succeed out of any of us, to be sure. And nobody deserved success more than he.

There was also a writer for our Arts section named Tommy Scott, who was about the sweetest kid you could ever meet. A senior, very kind and flamboyant, and also openly homosexual (which, BTW, did not help our case any with the Phelps crew), and I really respected that about him. The bullshit Machiavellian posturing of high school is bad enough without having to deal with sexual-orientation discrimination at the same time. To see him, you wouldn’t notice how strong he really was, but it was there. Certainly a stronger man than I. He wasn’t in your face about it either, nor was he sexually confused in the least. He knew who he was and that was that as far as he was concerned. I respected that about him immensely. Just a very courageous and charming young man. And despite all the shit he got, I had never once seen him anything but jubilant and full of smiles and charm.

Well, one day, the Editor-in-Chief and I (a good friend named Katie), were going about our business, as was the rest of the room, when some lady nobody had ever seen before (must have been a counselor, heh) came in and asked for everybody’s attention. When she had it, she announced very matter-of-factly that Tommy Scott had died that morning, about two hours earlier. Seems he was pulling out of his drive-way to go to school when a truck smashed into the side of his car, killing him instantly. He was 18.

I remember the next part very vividly. The counselor kept talking, saying something about how counselors would be on call if anybody needed them, something about a memorial service, but nobody was listening at that point. A girl, Tommy’s best friend, immediately began to scream as if a knife had been plunged into her stomach. A few people started sobbing. Must of us just stood there dumbfounded.

A few months later, Justin had gotten news (a few days before his 19th birthday) that he was very likely going to play ball for Kansas University. This was his dream, mind you. Immediately upon hearing the news, he got in his car and headed for Topeka (about 20 minutes away) to tell his family. He wanted to be there in person when he gave them the news.

Halfway home, he picked up speed in his excitement. Took his eyes off the road for a moment or two. Ran off the highway. Totaled his car, and himself. Died a few hours later. The rumors that he was to play for KU were, in fact, true, though not announced officially yet at that point. At his funeral, the entire KU basketball team laid a team jacket on his casket.

About a year later, a good friend of my little sister (who is 19 now) died. Her name was Anna Riphahn. She was 17, and already a published author and artist, who perhaps had gotten more coverage from our high school paper than anybody else. She had won some big contest with a children’s book of a fairy tale that she wrote and illustrated called The Timekeeper. A very beautiful work, I might add. She was one of the most promising young students at the school. One night, her and a few friends were driving home from a concert(somebody like Sting like Billy Joel or something). It was pretty late. Anna had laid down in the backseat and had fallen asleep. Some pickup truck swerved out of its lane and struck their car. Anna was killed, the others were fine.

[Names have not been changed to protect the innocent, because…. well fuck, because they’re dead.]

Well, about an hour after we had heard that Tommy Scott was dead a good while before Justin and Anna were taken, Katie (The editor-in-chief) and myself found ourselves in a nearby Denny’s, smoking over our cups of coffee. We had decided to take the rest of the day off. We were also discussing what the newspaper would say about Tommy’s death. Mostly, though, we were simply reflecting.

Midway through our conversation, a man at the next table leaned over. He was a blue-collar worker, already with a five o’clock shadow despite it being noon. Dirty from his day’s labor, scruffy, wearing old raggedy work clothes. He looked mean and harried.

“Excuse me,” he said as if we were old acquaintances in a bar, “What are you guys talkin’ about? I overheard you sayin’ something about a friend of yours dying?”
“Yes”, we said to him. “A friend of ours died a few hours ago. We just found out.”
The man scratched the hair on his chin for a moment, pondering this.
“How old was he?” he asked.
“18,” we answered.
“That’s a great age,” was his curious reply, and he pondered a moment more. “How did he die, if you don’t mind my askin’?”
“Car accident.”
“Did he suffer?”
“I don’t think so. They said it was instantaneous.”
“Was anybody else hurt or killed in the accident?”
“Ummm, I don’t think so.” He thought for a moment more.
“That’s a great way to die,” he said. We looked at him oddly. He continued.
“There is nothing me or anybody else here in this world could say to make it better. It sucks. That’s all there is to it. It just plain fucking sucks. But I can tell you one thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Only the good GET to die young,” was his reply. With that, he tipped his hat, paid his bill, and left solemnly.

I don’t know why I bother mentioning any of this. I know this will all sound sappy and contrived, and I suppose in a way it all is. It is just something I needed to write, something that has been festering in my head for awhile. Nor will I claim these three were close personal friends of mine. They were not. I knew them all, though I can’t claim I was very close with any of them. And I am not going to wax philosophical about the death of children. There is nothing I could say on that subject that has not already been said a thousand times over. It just plain fucking sucks. That is all there is to it.

I used to ponder death and the afterlife and all that shit constantly. I do not anymore. Why? Well, for one, after a certain amount of thought given to it, the ideas start becoming redundant. For another, I honestly just have no clue why people die or what happens to them after the fact. I don’t know, nor do I care to ponder a question to which the answer is unknowable. I respect the people who are sure that you enter nothingness upon your death about as much as I respect those who are sure of a Christian heaven and hell. What both fail to account for, and to respect, is the inherent mystery of the Universe.

And I freely admit I have no clue. Nor do I particularly want to know for that matter.

But I do have a bit of a wish. A request for God, so to speak.

I love to dream. I have such wonderfully vivid narrative dreams, full of a better mixture of fantasy and reality than any artist or author could ever hope to capture. If I could, I would live in my dreams. Just constantly be wandering the wonder and beauty that my subconscious produces for me every night. A place with no rules, no boundaries, where everything is as you paint it. Where anything is possible. Where everything is valid and knowable. Where you are the creator of your own universe.

My idea of a perfect death is a quick one. One in which nobody else is hurt or killed and no suffering occurs.

And my perfect afterlife?

I wish to just be allowed to keep dreaming.

I wish that what happens is that you “fall asleep” forever. Where reality fades into your dream worlds, and you are left there, in your own universe, to your own thoughts and fantasies. The idea that you are thrown into the oblivion of nothingness upon your demise is just unfathomable to me. The realist in me recognizes that that may be the case, but the optimist in me will protest and fight that idea tooth and nail until the day I will know for sure.

I hope that when your brain shuts off your consciousness, that the other parts still run on autopilot for awhile. That you are still allowed the faculties that allow you to dream, to live vicariously through your own fairy tales. Perhaps you eventually fade away into nothingness. That would be okay. So long as you get that time in your own world, which would seem infinite enough to you. That is all I hope for. After you leave this universe, I dream that you are allowed to live in the universe of your own making.

One more ride out before you merge with the infinite.

I think the Universe owes us that much.

I dream that Tommy Scott is still alive, in a world full of painters and poets and where nobody is intolerant, everybody just sees the beauty in others. Nothing more and nothing less. Where he is respected just for being a person of value, just for being a good man. And I dream that he is happy there.

I dream that Justin Ramirez is still alive, in a world where opportunities are endless, where he is on a blacktop, teaching his kids how to play basketball, and going over all the productive things he plans on doing today. Where he is not thinking over past failures, but rather, is asking himself “what can I do NOW”. And I dream that he is happy there.

I dream that Anna Riphahn is flying through her fairy tales, immersed in the universe that springs from her unlimited well of creativity. Where she makes children happy, where she romps with the fairies and the wizards and whatever the hell else she can dream up. Where she can live in the world that she can create. And I dream that she is happy there.

And I dream the same for everybody else who is taken so young.

Mostly though, I just dream of being allowed to keep dreaming.

And part II of last night's banner announcement: we now have banners in the forums. Support our sponsors ... there's lots more we want to bring you!

Studying his next shot intently, he doesn’t realize that I have arrived. Admittedly relieved that I have a few minutes before I’m face to face with my past, I settle into an empty seat at the otherwise crowded bar. I watch him from across the room and I am filled with a combination of emotions that is almost overwhelming. Nervousness that borders on nausea mingles with the feeling of excitement, and an aching desire to touch him again.

I turn my back to him and run my fingers through my hair as I try to regain some composure. I know I shouldn‘t be here, yet my heart wouldn’t allow me to decline. Why do I insist upon torturing myself with illusions of a relationship, with this man, that will never exist? My mind swarms with all of the reasons why I decided to exclude him from my life over a year ago as I mentally reprimand myself for the sudden surge of happiness and comfort I felt earlier when I heard his voice on the phone.

A hand on my shoulder makes me uncomfortably aware that my window of opportunity to leave unnoticed has expired. I silently plead for my heart to be strong as I turn and am directly confronted with the one person in my life I have never been able to let go. He takes my face gently in his hands: my heart begins to melt. He leans in and lightly kisses my lips. I smile softly and feel relieved as I allow strength to drain from my body. With naive honesty I confess to missing him, and because of a momentary lack of self control; I also admit that I have found it difficult to stay away. He smiles in return, and with true arrogance expresses that he knows I’ve missed him and that I must certainly be dying to have him back. A silent moment passes as his thoughtless words register making my heart horribly aware of the hurtful reality my mind has known all along. A game, just as before. His toy, there for him to play with when he desires, and to leave on a shelf if something better is within reach. Confusion sets in as I try to understand how my heart could so terribly mislead me when the truth was so blatantly obvious.

I take a few steps backward before breaking the stare and turning for the door. He grabs my arm to try to keep me from leaving, but there are too many people around for him to risk making a scene. He releases his grip, but I am the one that has let go.

** Banners are now up on the main site, and will shortly appear in the forums as well. As wonderaz has mentioned, we're trying to bring a variety of ads to you, and will continue getting fresh ones in the rotation. There was a question about how we derive revenue from them ... the answer is: we have many different kinds and it will vary. Some ads are pay-per-click, some require people to register or become a member on their site, and still others pay a percentage of sales.

** The Spamatorium is now open! Check the link on the left (under the main buttons), and submit your personal site with a short description. Within a day we'll have it approved and up on the page for others to visit during those forum dry spells (which seem to be less and less common of late). We do ask you provide a link to Asylum on your site, and please, no commercial sites.

** We'll change the gaming poll soon, but the results weren't exactly conclusive. We may follow up with another one using the top 3 from the last round (Chess, word game, 2+ player cards). In any case, we're working on more additions to the site along these lines - soon!

** Today's User Update is from CHiPsJr, and the AAS has provided their latest astral prognostications. Check them both out, and comment in the Suppository. Also, look for a new columnist to grace our pages starting tomorrow...

As always, let us know through Suggestions if you have a brilliant idea ... we continue to check in there, and go back through past threads when considering enhancements to the site. Thanks for making Asylum what it is...

So naturally, I was delighted to discover the internet, and forums like this one, where enlightened mockers could gather and poke fun at true-believers everywhere.

Except that after a while, the thrill began to fade. It wasn't that I couldn't find cynics on the net, or elsewhere. Quite the opposite, in fact. I found myself awash in a sea of cynicism, and finding the atmosphere not to my taste.

Ours has become a brutally cynical society. Witness, as evidence, the fact that we have elevated David Spade to celebrity status. David Spade can't act. He can't perform any task requiring talent. His sole claim on our entertainment dollar is his ability to make the occasional smart remark in a slightly more snide tone than your average Joe. Our society considers this to be a skill worthy of a seven-figure salary. Worse still, there is Bill Maher, who earns his paycheck with a television show on which three liberal celebrities, a liberal studio audience, and the host himself spend thirty minutes making snide remarks at anyone who espouses Conservative beliefs. This show bears the ironic title "Politically Incorrect." His recent standup special bears the title "Be More Cynical." I can't bear either. Yet he, like David Spade, is a celebrity, based solely on his ability to be snide.

Cynicism is also all the rage in academia. Literary "deconstruction" and the concept of the sociological "kritik" celebrate their own lack of advocacy. Adherents to these schools of thought take it as a point of pride that they tear down the foundations of society without advocating anything to replace them. Apparently, advocacy or constructive reasoning are exercises for suckers.

A 23-year-old author named Jedediah Purdy (we can forgive him for his name, I hope) recently wrote a book called For Common Things in which he makes a pretty persuasive case that excessive cynicism...indeed, the worship of cynicism...has become one of our society's biggest problems. For one thing, he contends, cynicism is intellectually lazy. Anybody can lie back on their couch making smart remarks and tearing others down. Those smart remarks aren't going to improve the world in any meaningful way, though...it's those who choose to reason and to actually defend their conclusions that bring about improvement in the world.

For another thing, and probably more importantly, cynicism is cowardice. Purdy contends, and I agree, that most people who adopt cynicism as an all-inclusive attitude towards life are motivated primarily by fear...the fear of taking a stance, being proven wrong, and as a result, being thought foolish. Say what you will about Conservative Christians, at least they have the guts to stand up for some principle, and to advocate their principles before a cynical public. They may not be as educated as the makers of smart remarks, but they sure have a lot more guts. They, unlike the scoffers, are unafraid of the shame that comes from being proven wrong.

Look--there are any number of people who deserve richly to get an intellectual ass-whipping from those around them. Dangerous and foolish ideas deserve thorough refutation. And smart remarks are an important and entertaining part of that process. That's what Mencken was all about.

But we've lost track of the advocacy process and started just worshipping the smart remark. We've lost track of the difference between tearing down someone else's idea in order to build up a contrary idea of your own, on the one hand, and just making clever remarks to prove how cool and jaded you are on the other. We've ceased to respect wit; we've come to worship cynicism.

One of the differences between this forum and many others is the fact that the people on it have the guts to stand for something. There's all too little of that going on these days. If we want to make popular discourse a better place for people like us, it's time that we declared war on cynicism. It's time to expose deconstructionists for the mental masturbators they are. To call out Bill Maher and his wannabes for the cowards they are. And to call a Spade a dickhead.

Mercury enters the ninth house early this week, with the Sun and Pluto already in this area, making this an important week for legal issues or travel plans. Venus rides into the 11th house later this week, which means that truly compassionate friends will be needed. A difficult matter may arise that friends need to help you out of.

Now what this really means is...

You have Mercury, the Sun, and Pluto combining to screw up your life this week. If you can’t get your ass out of the country, you can count on getting served, arrested, or having some other unpleasant event happen that requires you to retain legal counsel. Hopefully, you have not pissed ALL your so-called friends off because you will probably be looking for help with the bail.

Uranus is in good alignment to support career interests, and ensures progress on any projects currently in the works. However, no financial rewards are seen this week. The flip side is that rewards will come just in time for Christmas, since Venus is about to enter the monetary area of the chart. It may take the shape of a reward or bonus for the efforts you are putting forth now.

Now what this really means is...

Uranus is in good alignment. You should be regular for that reason alone. This is a good week to suck up to the boss even more than you already do. Although you are flat broke facing a bleak Christmas, you will find a credit card you forgot you had and will still be able to plunge yourself even further in debt buying expensive toys for people that you have to constantly remind them of your name, like your family and co-workers.

The presence of Pluto in the house of relationships means that matters of the heart are on the forefront this week. Also, Mercury moves into this area of the solar chart in a few days, making the romance even hotter. if you are studying for final exams this week, know that Venus entering the ninth house means that education is in your favor.

Now what this really means is...

In your usual devious manner, you will convince your mate that you didn’t really mean it when you said “I hate you, you fat-assed piece of shit.” and the make-up sex will be great, for you anyway. If you have finals coming, you will have studied your Cliff Notes well or hacked into your teacher’s computer, obtaining a passing grade. You may rest assured your lack of morals is intact either way.

The Sun and Pluto are in conjunction in the work area of your chart, a very powerful sign that something important is likely to take place with your employment in the next few weeks. Mercury is also paying a visit, which means you'll probably make a decision very soon. Venus is also on your side in the monetary department. Some external source is about to pay off big for you (banking, corporate money, etc.)

Now what this really means is...

Thanks to the Sun and Pluto, something terrible will happen at your job and you will make a decision that your friends and family will hate you for. You won’t notice because they already hated you. You will come into some money but still give everyone origami birds for Christmas that you made yourself, which will cause them all to hate you. You won’t notice that either.

For weeks now Uranus and Neptune have been playing hell with your relationship matters. Venus comes to the rescue later this week, bringing peace. Your communications will vastly improve with the help of mars, so make sure to hold your tongue for the next few days. You might receive a message of some importance in the next few weeks, thanks to the Sun, Pluto, and Mercury converging in the fifth house.

Now what this really means is...

As usual, you are at war with your mate but if you can refrain from running at the mouth for a few days, they may actually shut the hell up too, in a few days. You may be getting a very important message in the next few days thanks to the Sun, Pluto and Mercury that you should either anticipate with dread or joy.

Something important is about to occur in your domestic life, thanks to mercury moving into the home/family area of your chart. Since Pluto and the Sun are already residing there, the next few weeks can bring a change to a difficult situation, if you handle matters delicately. Your work prospects will brighten later this week with a visit from Venus in your sixth house.

Now what this really means is...

Your home life is going to hell in a hand basket but if you can get over yourself, you may be able to keep from getting thrown out right before the holidays. What may help is you getting that job offer or advancement you were hoping for but you will probably regret taking it later.

Travel plans may go awry this week. Jupiter aligns with mercury in a rather difficult fashion, so expect delays or last minute reroutes. Or, you can just stay home and enjoy Venus’s influence in your domestic areas. You’ll feel encouraged to add to your home surroundings, perhaps with new furniture or art. Make sure everything is tidy, as the Sun and Pluto are bringing you visitors later this week.

Now what this really means is...

If you plan on traveling, take camping gear to the airport. If you stay home, you will be compelled to undertake a major home improvement project just in time for unwanted company to show up and trash the place.

Somewhere near the end of the week you can expect pleasant news concerning a domestic matter, since Venus begins its transit through the family area of your chart. Be prepared to empty your wallet. Mercury is joining with the Sun and Pluto in the money area of your chart, which may lead to some difficulties in the spending area this week.

Now what this really means is...

You will receive good news involving your family, like your brother was just arrested for embezzlement and won’t be coming for the holidays as planned. Mercury, the Sun and Pluto are taking a crap in the money area of your chart so be prepared to write a few hot checks just to make it through the week.

Mercury enters your sign this week, helping you become more outgoing. This is a great time for communications. Which goes hand in hand with Venus entering your third house, creating a more sociable atmosphere and making dealings with the outside world more pleasant. But be warned. The Sun and Pluto indicate a personal matter that is very delicate. You may have to address it in a new way to escape the situation.

Now what this really means is...

Mercury shows up this week which for most other signs, would mean you would be more outgoing, but for a Sag it just means you will talk louder and interrupt more than normal. That, mixed with the abundance of holiday gatherings means you will probably be saying something that will take some effort to make amends for when you sober up.

‘Tis the season to spend money, and Venus entering the money sector means you'll be able to afford to be generous. Don’t let Pluto get you too worked up this week. You’ll be faced with a lot of in depth soul- searching, and feel frustrated over unanswered questions. These matters won't have an answer for a few more weeks.

Now what this really means is...

You will be doing well financially which means you can afford to buy nice gifts but you will be true to your nature and won’t. You will become confused over the true meaning of life and start wondering why you even bother to breathe. By the time you figure it out, the holidays will be over and you will blame your depression on them and your family.

Prepare to make new friends, as Mercury joins the Sun and Pluto in the friendship area of your chart. Try not to get involved in other's affairs this week, no matter how hard they try. If you're asked out this weekend, don't hesitate to go. Venus enters your sign this weekend and puts you in the "party" mood.

Now what this really means is...

There will be new acquaintances in your life but they are probably undercover cops, so don’t sell them anything. Friends and family will most likely try to get your opinion on a disagreement which you should avoid becoming involved with as, no matter what you say, you will be a peripheral victim of domestic violence. Party hard this weekend as your chances for getting lucky and/or catching a STD are high.

Mercury will help your insights on what you should do in your career over the next few weeks. Important news may be coming with mercury influencing Pluto in this area. Venus enters your twelfth house later this week, making you feel a bit lazy. Take that rest you want so badly, even though you feel like you don't have the time.

Now what this really means is...

Mercury will be coming in to play this week, giving you the ability to for insightful opinions about what your future track in the work force should be, but before you can implement these well thought out plans, your natural laziness will come to fore and you will decide you deserve a break from it all. You can count on the mundane aspect of your life to continue unabated.

Seamless and even the flow of assets into assets into stocks into bonds into liquid into…

He wakes up inside of this neon dream surrounded by $$$$$’s and $$$$$’s of personal affects. He is inside of a polystyrene freak show and this clutter of “urban survival gear” is his bedroom.

He was sleeping…

Rhythmically breathing from within the neural confines of his vacant, subconscious.

He slips back into his slumber like the sandy tide into the open blue ocean…

…His eyes open and hundreds of tropical fish surround him. The sea floor is a network of interlaced coral, the color’s range well outside of our known spectrum. Beautiful fish dart about the phosphorescent mesh, and he stares out at them, floating in the buoyant tropical water as you would in the zero gravity of outer space. Bodies neither sink nor rise. No up and no down.

Just floating.

Captured between judgments. Somewhere between right and wrong. No sense of accomplishment and no fear of admonishment for anything that he thinks or does or says or expresses. Suspended from the opinions of anything else in the whole of the universe. Just his mind and his self... Together. Two lovers eternally grateful for the other's company, alone within each other.

This is the ultimate act of sensory masturbation.

…He feels a large cold hand close around his neck accompanied by an annoying voice, shrill and unintelligible, coercing him away from his utopian loneliness. An alarm reminds him to get up and as he stutters back into his conscious mind he can hear the alarms actual meaning: “.R.e.t.u.r.n. .t.o. .t.h.e. .s.t.e.a.d.y. .s.h.i.t. .s.t.r.e.a.m. .o.f. .f.i.s.c.a.l. .d.i.a.r.r.h.e.a. .a.n.d. .f.e.c.a.l. .s.o.c.i.a.l. .d.e.s.i.r.e.” it repeats.

“…I have my SUV and my bills and my children and my acquaintances and my wife and my mortgage and my DKNY shirts and I have all of the shit that money can buy…” – A consumer report.

Here, among the animate, he has everything that he is supposed to have. Here among the animate, he doesn’t have his self.

Walking through these crowded streets among hundreds of other people among hundreds of individual consciousnesses he feels completely alone; a refugee in an unknown land. Unsure of why he ran away and where exactly it is that he ran to.

Again he finds himself huddling close to his empty overcoat, fighting against the cold and overbearing nature of reality… Fighting against everyday and like everyday he is fighting to return to his self.

To return to his sleep…