Nostradamus I aint.

So why do we find ourselves so often pre-occupied with the future?
Its as if we think that seeing what comes next will enable us to deal with what has come before, will help us to decided what must be done now to change what will be tomorrow.
In the end we must face the sad fact that many of us can see into the future, or at least into the broader screen of the "macro-future".
We know that there will always be war and famine and pestilence and death, so long as we as a species exist. We can be fairly certain that the future holds corruption and greed, misery and strife, conflict and growth, failure and redemption and constant struggle. We can even say, with a fair degree of certainty, that the world will end eventually. I'm fairly confident that most of us would even be willing to go out on a limb and state that the sun will rise tomorrow. We all know that there will be tyrants and saviors, murderers and healers, politicians and prostitutes. Deep down I think we all know that there are certain universal constants, certain patterns of human behavior that we will never fully be rid of.
These are the factors that drive this future everyone seems so keen on seeing.
As for the small future, the psychic friends"what will I do, how will I die, will ever find anyone I can get along with for more than a few months" future, well who really cares? In the end, our existence washes out of the same celestial sluice box as every one else's, and with roughly the same results. A lot of hard work, a little bit of gold, and a whole whopping mound of shit left over.


I have seen the future!!!

Its a lot like the present,
but with kinkier sex toys.

Sickly Sweet Smell of Rotting Cedar Logs.

The warm valley fog rolls in, covering the newly green hillside in a swirling cloak of transient humidity. The calls of the nocturnal fauna, disturbed from their long days rest by the sudden darkness, quickly fade as the mist permeates the woods in muffled silence. Deer, emboldened by the quiet darkness, wander pathes normally only traveled at dusk. As the mountain slips into instant twilight, one can almost feel the world beginning to crawl with life. Twilight stealthily envelops the forest as it did in the beginning.

Something

In a den of thieves an honest man is suspect,
in a state of chaos a sane man is pariah,
in a world of traitors it is patriots who will hang.

The voice of reason is drowned out by the bleats of the panicked flock while vulpine eyes circle in the gathering dark.

Burning Out in Spectacular Mediocrity.

I'm told that in the real world people get vacations and take sick leave. I keep wondering just how one seeks employment in this real world that I hear so much about.

I remember thinking at one point that I had something unique and interesting to offer the world. Lately though I just can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm not an actual person, just a piece of hairy machinery that requires constant maintenance.

The days and weeks seem to get longer,
the years and weekends seem to get shorter.
I'm starting to think that I made a mistake not pitching it all and running off to join the circus.

Tell me,
how exactly does one go about getting kidnapped by gypsies?

Rocks on a wall.

Do you remember mud between your toes?

Do you remember chasing flying ants with a spraybottle full of water,
watching hawks and dragonflies,
chasing deer just for pleasure,
tracking cougars just to see if you could?

Do you remember jumping barbed wire fences?
Stealing apples, walnuts, and figs from the neighbors orchards,
fleeing pell-mell through the forest after being caught,
rubbing the rock salt from our wounds with wet towels,
and laughing while we did it?

Do you remember the smell of woodsmoke in autumn?
Muscles burning with exertion,
splitting billets of oak and pine by hand,
spending days scrubbing sap and pulling splinters?

Do you remember stealing a bottle from your parents,
and then getting sick drunk for the first time because you didn't know when to stop?

Do you remember laughing so hard that you couldn't get your breath,
then turning red,
getting light headed,
and laughing some more?

Do you remember the feel of a wood heated home on a cold winter night?
Warm spiced drinks,
brandy and whiskey and heavy ales,
dancing round the winter bonfire with someone you loved,
holding someone close?

Do you remember that?
Can you remember that?
The springtime of life.