As I sit here typing I find my thoughts pulled in a bazillion directions, you know, those quintessential moments when every synapse seems to be firing overtime and a collage of images swim before the mind’s eye. That’s me, right now, at this moment in time, the Shrubbery for once at a loss for words. Such is the nature of cognitive dissonance and the existential blues.
My mind trips down a plasticized boulevard while music chimes in ear, Strawberry Letter 23 by The Brothers Johnson. Groove tunes in the echo chamber that is thine cranium. Alas, the music switches, Hands of Time by Groove Armada, and thoughts meander yet again to some far off time and place that’s infinitely more appealing than the reality I marinate in on a daily basis.
Music switch…now Still Loving You by the Scorpions thunders from my computer system, speaking of the eclectic nature of my latest iTunes play list. It traverses the fine line between reality and fantasy, that far off place where dreams and fairies are created. This is the very place Winnie the Pooh resides, in that place atop the trees, where a boy and his bear will ALWAYS play.
And there I am, in my tree, looking for my beloved teddy bear. Music switches as Hey Jude by the legendary Beatles begins its soulful refrain. A fleeting glimpse of the bear of my youth, that tattered and worn yellow fuzzy bit of fur and stuffings. I remember the day I got him; it was Christmas morning, I was five, and the damn thing was bigger than me, and it was my favorite gift before or since. It was the perfect treat at the perfect stage in my life, truly a cosmic convergence.
As the sands of time sift through the hourglass that bear was always there. Through familial migrations, countless elbow drops from my dresser, drunken pratfalls after a night of massive alcohol consumption, there sat my bear, ever attentive, ever seeing, war torn and fuzzy. It was one of the constants of my life.
Music changes again…now 7 by Prince blares, with its harmony and R&B flavor coursing through the air. Mood changes also, now introspection replaces nostalgia.
How far do we travel the road inward? Who knows, for the road winds like serpentine cable strewn across a gymnasium floor. Only the perversely anal would trace the entire length of coax to its origins, the anal or those hungry for answers. Then you reach the point where the trail starts and you find a piece of audio equipment. Now what? Who the fuck cares, just crank up the music and relax, or dance, or whatever you do when the song of your choice is turned up to a righteous decibel level.
The iTunes now pumps out Doot Doot by Freur. The 80’s come crashing back into focus. Those carefree days when the upturned collar was vogue and pastels and fluorescents donned the cultural landscape. My God, I’ve never seen so much hairspray and eye shadow in my life. The shit was delivered in buckets to the humble abodes of those 80’s teen vixens, those tramps that stole hearts and bloodied the less fortunate.
Then my high school sweetheart dashes through my consciousness. Blonde hair, 5’8”, solid D-cup breasts, washboard abs, thick yet supple thighs, skin like a ribbon of silk. She was an enchantress, a succubus of the highest order. Then gone she was, faster than you can say her name. What the fuck happened? I still have no idea.
Ahhhhhhh, now The Fray streams from my speakers with their enormously popular ditty Cable Car. My mind’s eye focuses on the present, and my failure to pass the Colorado Bar Exam again. Shit. Three more months of constant study makes Shrubbery fucking grumpy. I begin pondering the future and whether or not law is in the picture. Yes, I spent an obscene amount of money on law school so the thought of giving up that dream is nauseating yet appealing. Too bad no one will pay me to play video games.
The baby blue sky floods through half drawn blinds. The day begins anew as does the train that is the current conscious. Down a new track it steams, belching smoke and fire, inexorably drawn to God only knows what or where. But relax, enjoy the ride, and let come what may come.
