Well, we traverse, now the reverse of our previous direction which brought us south to this anti wilderness. Direction: north. Objective: Largo Key or, more commonly, Key Largo. Snorkeling perhaps and other fun awaits our arrival. Big birds circle and call… 

Last night, to some extent, I felt endowed with that certain elusive energy we can call, for lack of alternative, ‘the ego,’ or should I say that mystery we call a sense of self-worth, of value. Desirable, one might even say, if being desirable were a good thing. And how can it not be? Well, that’s a subject for sharper minds. But, nonetheless, of all the mysteries, all the puzzles, all the ploys to drag me in any direction (and they are all around, all around), by far the most indefinable, indefensible + difficult is this fate vs free will dichotomy about which I have surely already said more than enough. 

Sunset show included Balancing Man, Cat-Man, Highwire Man, and, perhaps most spectacularly, Christ Man, peddling his spiritual wares. They make it so simple, don’t they, so black+white too, I might add, all or nothing but easy as a quick dip in the local baptism font, or even easier… a quick mental trip to the baptism font, and they speak with good conviction too and quite sure of the arguments, all the rational and logical arguments which fall as so much useless, momentary distraction in the patient benevolence of his infinite holiness. All contrary arguments are flawed because they come from man, and man is flawed. All while the ‘real’ truth comes pouring forth from his wide, zealous and potentially deranged eyeballs. Proselytizing it was. Spreading the word of God. And, of course, that all or nothing ideology that may yet drive me to church from terror if nothing else. But at the same time there’s something that feels freakishly like a sham about it all, like this infinite holy construct is actually the devil’s work, not that of an angel at all, gaslighting of the worst kind, and for those who give in and ‘accept,’ well they are the ones truly lost. But that’s just my own human pride talking, nothing more, that and my sad desire to cling to the short distraction of my human ‘joys’ my drinking and carousing, the joys of the flesh, etc. What better place to peddle this stuff, too, than the Florida beach at Spring Break, where the mad spectacle of wasted life is so laid bare, where everyone there must on some level feel the empty, depressive tug of an undertow beneath the raging hormones. Just a thought.

He stood there, gesticulating, wild-eyed, and created a display of proof for his premise. People razzed him. He continued, committed to his quest + mission. He would have happily been crucified in order to lead us from temptation. Or would he? Hm. If the chips were really down? What do I know; who am I to question his commitment? 

Well, I do believe in god, in a manner. I agree, to me on one level it seems self-evident. I believe in it that pushes the ink through the pen to the paper of this page. I believe that something touched life to the system, put the ghost in an otherwise inert machine.