Dear World

Please Kill Me,

Welcome back (or for the very first time), my crew of cyborgs – unwittingly connected to the mainframe. As per usual, I hope that you’ve all made it back with most of your body intact – and your mind thoroughly wrought with wonder.

So- Meditation. I understand that this may be a bit of a stretch from my normal writer endeavors, but bare with me. This past week I decided that it was necessary to plot out my plan for the remainder of the year. Admittedly, this is not something that I’ve been a fan of in the past – but with all of the things that I’ve got quickly approaching from beyond the horizon (as made obvious by my renewed love of vodka), it’s become clear to me that structure is necessary.

As I attempted to plot out my near immediate future, I discovered that in the wake of my bombastic tirade of authorship- it was not only my life that had become cluttered-  but my mind as well. (This could have also been the cause for my stints of writer’s block in the past few weeks.) So, as I normally do in times of existential crisis – I got black out drunk. This may come as no surprise, but this solved NOTHING. All it did was make me feel immortal for a few days; only to sober up and realize that I was in the same position, (only now it was a problem that had aged 48 hours). Ever the believer I tried again, to the same result (and a now 96 hour- old mental cage of fuckery and woe).

*Sidenote* – Fuckery: A building (not unlike a bakery), in which one is fucked. [Synonym – unfavorable position -mental or otherwise-. (Yea, I’m doing definitions now).

What to do? What to do? Well, I’ll tell you. being that I smelled like a distillery, i mostly avoided people (no need to add their judgment to my own nonsense), so Google to the rescue.

After reading the several types of cancer, (that WebMd assured me that I had) I found a site that provided some sonic therapy for the mentally stressed. It provided me with some steps (deep-breathing, closed eyes, relaxed sitting position, etc.), as well as this instrumental (Indian Meditation Music), and several others.

God damn it !!! Meditation.

I’ve never really been a fan of the technique, but after reading some pretty convincing testimonials, I thought “fuck it”. (Besides, at this point my liver was basically Studio 54.) I needed something a little less self-destructive.

After some internal criticism, I was finally able to relax. I traveled far and wide into the deepest recesses of my mind, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t work. In all honesty (and I swear I’m not a hippy for this), I came back from it with some much need clarity and inspiration.

I hate to say it, but in this case – the hippy’s got it right. (That, and it’s way cheaper than going to church ((damned charity plate.)) I guess that I’m a meditator? Don’t quote me on the word, but I’d recommend it to anyone in need of a good cerebral colonoscopy.

This is what we’re doing kidos. I’m heading back to the lab to kick ass and make up names.

*Peace sign*,

-Antwan Crump.