Where was I going I am pretty sure I was going in the direction of five minutes like I mean I am going try to keep it to five minutes but when I think of where I was going? What was I doing? What chaos beset upon me as I ride down the mystic river of make-belief, make belief simulation as if I as assimilated in a test tube, test tube baby gone wrong should have voted for the other guy, The other small fry and after all what does height have to do or give to it all? I am sure they bang there headless often but where to go where to see? The grand canyon, the grand abyss of beauty within our minds only encounter when the third eye is activated and the walls come down, the blockage becomes non-existent, the addiction in check, to be able to see the metaphysical, to elevate, to time travel, to astral project as if the universe would never reject such a beauty, such genius, such a thought and moment in time that has now encapsulated the moment of five, the moment of freewriting, the moment of free riding, freewheeling and who gives a fuck where you are going?
Tangerine Onion, 72 x 12 inches, acrylic on canvas, 2019