It's Important

I think it's Important...
To wake up really early once in a while just to see the sun rise. And to appreciate how it manages to do so every day. Guaranteed. You can go back to sleep right after.


To help a blind man cross the road every now and then. Not to restore his faith in humanity. But to restore your own.

To lose yourself in whimsy every now and then. So that you don't lose all them lovely colours to the monotony of day to day life.

To accept your mistakes. For that is the first step to never repeating them.

To accept yourself as well. Because you're born alone and you die alone. You better get used to the person you're with most of the time.

To put away your cell phones when you're at dinner or chilling on the beach. The world can wait. Your best friend getting bitten in the ass by a crab won't.

To slow down your car and let an old lady cross the road. 'Cause don't you just hate it when those douchebags run around speeding?

To put yourself out there and to let yourself get hurt. You might have a scar, but if you look at it right, you'll have a great story to tell.

To not forget and to not recall. Because the present plays a much bigger role in deciding the future than the past does.

And lastly I guess it's important to smile. 'Nough said.

How I Look At The World...

This is how I look at the world…

We fight of dragons with little wooden sticks. We climb mountains every now and then. Some are covered with snow. Some are covered with grass. Sometimes we ride around on little rams. Slow and sluggish but surefooted all the same. When we're in a hurry, we hop into the pouch of a kangaroo. Making our way through urban jungle, and over the lake and through the tall tall elephant grass. I see cars pass me by sometimes in slow motion. They disassemble, reassemble and then go along their way. Driven by little fish breathing out bubbles made of sulphur. 

Sometimes we go to the beach or to the circus. We pick sea shells off the sand and try not to get our shoes wet. But we give in to temptation. Our only saving grace, a pair of pants rolled up at the bottom, clinging to us thanks to belts made out of stones. Sometimes flowers. I like belts made out of flowers. 

I stare at myself in the mirror and see a person I haven't met in a while. We shake hands and talk over a cup of tea. Trees hang out in the distance. Breathing and swaying at the same time. Everything I sit on is made out of soft gooey soil. An elephant footprint marks where I rest my bones next. 

My fingers type away and race across paper. My eyes dart from side to side making sure there are no clowns around. I don't like clowns. I think they're horrible people with all that make-up and those oversized shoes. 

The sun sets and the sun rises and no matter how many times I talk about it I am amazed all the same. Whether I'm climbing a coconut tree or talking to sea weed in a yellow submarine, I feel the presence of a force that feels warn to touch, yet is cool when I breathe it in. 

Colours in the sky look like elves went painting again. The Ogre makes a new friend. A bunny rabbit trims his beard. A buddhist monk smiles at his new discovery as we all sway to the cosmic music playing in our heads.

Pretty girls walk by me and smile. Cigarette smoke rises into the purple sky and stings my eyes as I chalk out my next big plan at world domination.

Except the world isn't mine. It belongs to Timothy. Timothy's nice that way. He likes to share his old Beatles records. 

Ukuleles run across the starry night sky. Migrating to warmer climates. Double basses sit at home, worried sick about pretty much everything.

We feel itchy every time we hear about bugs and crawling pests but we forget they've all gone on vacation to Billimora, It's an off-beat place. You probably haven't heard of it.

I sleep when I'm tired and I wake up when I'm still sleepy. I smile at sheep crossing the road, talking about last night's episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen. 

I rub my chin and wonder and ponder about things that are to come. Will they every make those nuclear paperclips? Will I be a good dad? Where do pixies come from? Where can I get some pie?

I see false hope fairies walk around. They drag their feet and sing to the marble steps leading up to the clouds where little yellow men sings old Bollywood duets. 

Sometimes I blink into existence. And slow down time with my little finger. I eat as much as I can and then run away and hide when someone complements me about the kind of person I am. I'm Magenta Green sometimes. But I can't be sure. I don't have my glasses on today. 

Yet sometimes I sit and type on and on and on, staring at the keyboard only to look up and realize that all the letters have changed places. And that I'm typing in Mandarin Chinese.

But I like how I see things. It feels warm and gooey. Like love.