The Oklahomafrican Sun

11-1-11

      There's so many things I've never done that now I realize, and I wonder if I really care to ever do them or not, or am more concerned about the idea of doing them, because experiences aren't always all they're cracked up to be- like these people who run around obsessing with experience and soaking it all up, having to be and do everything, or get a taste of it (I've been some of that mindset), like a bunch of experience hogs, and then they find they don't have something that's truly fulfilling, because all they can appreciate anymore are the big roller coasters, and not the tiny subtleties of life, like the shadows of dancing trees shaking their branches and leaves along a sunglint wall, how the trees just stand there and soak up the sky and the sun and the wind and rain and moon. When everyone's just a one-of-a-kind. An aborigine typically doesn't hang out on a laptop as far as I know, a meerkat doesn't speak Spanish as far as I know, a hamster doesn't whistle, I don't skydive (though maybe I will sometime and I'm just waiting for something traumatic to happen so I can jump out of a plane and forget about it), a sloth doesn't fight morning rush hour traffic (I want to be a sloth in a dream world)- All this steel- complexed, green colored paper money chasing rushing urgency to crowd the earth with more man-made tumbleweeds (plastic bags blowing through parking lots) and obligations for unnecessities just feels unnatural- but it was created and self-imposed, self-inflicted.

     I'm knocking on your door- I'm not a salesman.  I tried and I can't much do it.

I didn't really want to sell you anything in the first place- just give until I have nothing

and then the world will say hey look at the bum who is sometimes in reality Christ-like- though

sometimes a rotten bum.

     This week I'm once again a spy from my own world on this world and the sunrise on

the Oklahoman plains is the African sun on an African-looking, Oklahoma grass-blowing terrain, and there is a zebra that lives in Oklahoma, a long-maned lion perched on his grassy hill, watching the same sun set in the distance of the Milky Way.

     There are giraffes, a hippo, rhinos, a jaguar that lives in the Heartland. I saw them the

other day, an unexpected free pass to the zoo from a friend. It was like a heartwarming

prison full of friends who for the most part are really well off and don't know any better,

kind of like everything else. Except I knew and they knew they were really just stage

performers and thrived on the love and applause.