Sometimes, on days such as this one, when perils I’ve experienced, or at least learned of, seem to be especially troubling to a man who’s known his share of trouble, I journey out here. And it’s dangerous out here. And just now I’m standing on a ledge. And I have to be careful! One false move here might send me dangerously downward. And when I say dangerously downward, I’m not only referring to the rocks I’d land on far below me, I’m also referencing possible entrapment into that domain supervised by Lucifer which most agree lies beneath rather than above us.
But I know that temporally it’s never too late to change one’s ways. Yet, of course I also know that temporal ways aren’t easily changed. And, if I’ve never spoken, written, or done anything completely righteous before, I’d like to begin right here – right here and now as I now begin to relate some words about myself – words which I’d just as soon had not been related – but words which apparently need pronouncement simply because they speak to the commonness of the so-called “common man.”
And it always seems as though there are some people talking in the background of my life. But I don’t know what they’re talking about. And I think they speak my language, but I simply can’t hear them. And I think that’s because certain sounds only bounce within my mind, and then can’t be formulated into what my psyche believes I shouldn’t know.
Yet, of course the fear and paranoia which are synthesized from my speculations concerning what those people may be saying torment me consistently. And I don’t know if those talkers are talking about me! And I don’t know if they’re gossiping about me! And I don’t know if they’re saying I’m evil – or at least that I have been evil in the past! And it doesn’t really matter that I’ve never been abidingly evil. All that matters is that those background talkers plant the seed of possible evil in my mind.
But of course as I look downward from this ledge, I know I never had any intention of jumping from it. And I can hear the sounds of the city from here. And, unlike the unknown, but mindful conversations which I just alluded to, these very real noises of a city alive – a city in motion – do penetrate my eardrums. And they make me realize that if my life ended I’d no longer (mortally at least) know of all that’s still happening in what once was the sphere of life I’d known around me.
Sure, I believe I’d then know of all earthly movements. The eternal portion of my existence would have begun then. But I’m a sort of “temporal snoop.” I like to know everything about everybody, but I don’t want many people to know much about me.
And thus I’m leaving this ledge now. And I’m walking back toward my house. And I’m going to continue to write about what I assume will be some drastically unorganized thoughts and stories. And when I’m done writing them, I’ll turn them in to Ralph Hawk. He’s said he’ll edit and rearrange them. And boy, what a job that will be!
Nonetheless, since I’ve been given what’s basically a “free literary hand” here, I’m going to use it to the best of my memory riddled, unstructured, and unbridled abilities. And I’m going to try to communicate to whoever may read these words that a mental price is paid daily by those of us who live in the city which deviates from what so-called normal people consider normalcy. And I’m going to hope that so-called normal people will realize that we who live here, in this city, exist every day near the edge of insanity, and the ledge of good and evil. And every day it seems we’re not supposed to follow the Joneses.
