This is what science fiction feels like to me.

The Tower of Brahma. Sexty. See. (edit)

5/30/09

This a good chapter. I love when I just riff and skip along words, making more poetic than rational sense, though the narrative is there all along if you pay attention. The dementia of depression and obsession with multi-dimensional existences is intense, zen meditation alone while working the graveyard shift, or in this case, I was unemployed and looking at the trash of my life having just moved in with a girlfriend on Thompson & Bleeker, one of the worst corners on late nights, the only time I was nearly mugged was on that stretch. Le Paisson Rouge just opened as well, so it was a shit show.

I was unemployed and worthless. Nothing to my name but debt and my imagination lingering and tapping away in the newly reonvated Washington Square Park. But I wanted some manner of forward momentum. I wanted to know what I was supposed to do, now that I was starting over, without my best friend roommate, my only real connection to a social life, and then moving in with a sociopath, well, I had to write myself out of that mess.

So the SEXTY chapters are really just where I wanted to be when I was sixty years old, ultimate wish-fulfillment while casting myself the pawn in the older version's endgame, playing it out like a sci-fi flick with demonic hordes. The future will be a weird place and here's what I imagine it'd feel like to travel there, and what it would be like to experience something so familiar and yet evolved to a rapidly advance state as to be beyond our expectations.