Via kylark, some inspirational prose culled from A Flower Called Nowhere.

I've been thinking a lot about realities and how some people just accept the one they are in, as if somehow superimposing a different reality on top of the empirical reality is some kind of cop out. Sometimes I feel like I'm so removed from society and embedded in my little synthetic reality that the juxtaposition sets me whirling. I travel mostly by bicycle and shop daily for groceries like the Europeans or New Yorkers. Often as not the music that gets cranked up when I walk in the door is free jazz or abstract noise. I don't ever turn on the television and commercials and advertising are not a part of my life. I don't buy a lot of prepackaged food. I don't try to get ahead at my job. I don't pay attention to much American media at all, the Ipod bathes me in a never-ending stream of music of my choice. I have friends that live in the empirical everyday reality and I have friends who live in their invented reality, and I have to say that the ones who have manifested their own unique reality are far more interesting. I know that my co-workers think I'm bizarre because the things I strive for and the values I uphold are in total opposition to their chosen lifestyles. I got one of my friends a job where I work and I can just imagine how the office pictures us, two crazy city people who can barely keep from floating off to la la land. That's OK. We're faster and smarter and more efficient and so they just have to put up with the subversive and sneaky paranoiac anti-establishment wierdos. If I can get a couple more dreamers into the office the balance could be altered permanently. The power base could possibly be shifted, the lunatics could possibly run the asylum.

So fucked up the room is spinning. I love time out of mind. I love it when empirical reality blurs and the magickal reality gets superimposed over everything. In my reality art and creativity is the only desire and we glide silently through darkened dripping futuristic urban wastelands on fixed-gear fighter jet bicycles and we fight the forces of oppression and evil with our magic and improvised weapons. In my reality music and writing has higher value than exploitation and capitalism. In the city reality darkness joy kicks lights gnosis secret codes and sacred texts are all strung out on a golden ribbon unwinding unspooling like a Cortez the Killer 10 minute long winding vacuum tube implosion guitar solo just undulating and shimmering and trailing off into infinity where there is no body and there is no reality just thoughts and impulses floating in the abstract cosmic ether just sparks and flashes of light in the nothingness.