i was riding down cornell to get mister and i heard the distinctive liquid burbling sound that goes right through my conscious threshold and lights up my pineal gland, and i look up and i just see the trees and then i look over and see a guy pointing up looking over at me saying "sandhill cranes!" and i look and see a convex line of them pulling south, the lovely lovely primordial birds, and then he look at me again, peering as though through clouds of time, "doug?" and it takes me a moment to resolve his image and it's my oldest friend paul from high school in villa dark who i haven't seen since the war on terror began. uncanny.
what's uncanny is we fell out over the evil lie of the war on terror. he bought into it. we were peaceniks in high school, and i felt disgusted. i cut the relationship and we haven't spoken since til today. though it felt fine, i don't think we'll go into the old stuff, or even go on, who knows. we know nothing really. i do know the sandhill cranes are a native spirit animal of peace. so if we leave the thing there it's in a better place than the terror and the broken friendship. oh yeah, we also went to ram dass together, and he died last week. and now the w.o.t. or whatever the fucking hell the government thugs call it is almost twenty years old. 2020. 2020 vision. it's all hindsight now we know chaos is coming, but we don't know shit about chaos in the land of plenty.