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Aliens, Yup, I’m Probably One Of Them

Aliens, Yup, I’m Probably One Of Them

LECHEROUS ADVICE

Dear Lech: I’m worried that I may not belong on this planet. Will I ever fit in?

Alone Living In Essentially Nothingness

Dear ALIEN: I’ve spent much of my life, from elementary school days, looking and wondering what else is there to this world. Magic, Alchemy, Physics, Telepathy, and you betcha Aliens from other planets. And why the hell not? No fool should believe we are all alone completely in this universe if one believes in statistical universal evolution. If you’re a believer in God, then maybe you answer this as we truly were and are special and only a great creator could make this all work. Plausible indeed, the little things in life just seem to “fit” a little too perfect sometimes.

There is also the psychological twist that we are all just part of a A.I. symbiotic/soul melding psychic machine of imaginative reality.

Whoa, that last sentence sounded intense just writing it (even though it was mostly rambling).

Most obtuse thinkers out there probably have the same thoughts. Jedi mind tricks, mutant powers, a sexiness that goes on for days….. all those things that we assume lie deep down inside of us and we just have to tap into it. Perhaps we have though, just imagine a world where we all stopped being weirdos. Being a weirdo is as super as it gets. As I have heard before, why does it feel so damn right to be so damn wrong?

So what do you think you strange black alley cat, wandering around Halloween and scaring the hex out of everyone? Perhaps indeed, the alien you’ve been searching for is actually YOU. Trippy right? The mothership has tricked you so damn well on your way down into your human form that you don’t even know you’re not a human. All you know is that something is up.

You’re hearing colors and seeing sounds. And sometimes, just sometimes, we catch a glimpse of each other and stare way too damn long and awkwardly. Not in a sexual way (although that exists as has its place), but in a “hey you, quick question, are you from another planet or some shit?”.

I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to fit into whatever mold I was told made the most sense for me. Apparently, my life goal of creating my own spoken language and inventing a hidden musical note didn’t jive well with my parents. No classes for that shit in college.

So, F-it, I’m probably from another planet. Makes sense when you do the contingency, pathway and Venn diagrams on my life. It all leads to the main point that this man is more like an ugly duckling black swan choking on the bad apple of human disdain. Uhh, sorry for the pessimism. I’ll try to be more chipper once the kryptonite here in Chicago wears down and stops holding me back. Live long, prosper, and keep on painting on societies’ walls. The codes will shake out.

 

Word Brothel