Bookmaking log: more progress on secret project, much work yet to do
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Yes, this is a rare Wednesday edition of The Note. I have something sneaky going on this weekend and I don’t want to have to worry about doing The Note on Saturday, so we’re doing it today.
So I was working on the secret project. I’m on part 5 of it, by the way, part 5 of 12. There, now there’s some numbers on it. Numbers that mean nothing, really, because you dont know what the numbers represent. But humans like numbers, it makes us feel like whatever we’re doing or talking about means something.
But anyway, so I was working on the secret project and around 4:00 I decided to take a barefoot walk up the road to the pond. I took that walk, sat in one of the plastic chairs the neighborhood keeps up there, but I didn’t smoke my bowl. I brought a packed bowl, by the way. I was listening to the reality distortion music, just chilling, it was incredible, the sun on the leaves reflecting off the murky water, the dragonflies darting, the fish jumping, the turtles sunbathing on the rock across the puddle. Garden of Eden, I swear to Christ.
So I’m listening to the music, right? And the song Hoodz ‘n the Woodz comes on. Then, I’m suddenly on top of Board Mountain, all 888 feet of the bastard, my bowl is ash, and a gust of wind sweeps across the valley, the leaves dance wavily on their stalks, big bulbous clouds wisp across the sky, the sun dips carelessly between them and shadows larger than blue whales swim over the landscape like they were tangible things and all touched by the light was merely the shadows they cast. I look all around me at the shimmering leaves, the tunnel-like trails bounding off into the forest, the twin reservoirs down in the valley. The valley where I live. I hike for fifteen minutes and I’m on top of a mountain with a view of rolling hills that don’t stop rolling for miles, a view of glimmering blue water and blazing green trees, a view of ant-sized cars marching along their little routes carved into the landscape.
A few years ago, I would sprint out of my house crying and screaming because of a fight with this ‘man or that ‘man and I would tear up Board Mountain, talking to myself and ranting and raving like a lunatic, and I’d get to the top and rip a bowl (if I had any weed) and I would scream at the sky in agony asking what I did wrong, why I was so worthless, why I couldn’t get up the fucking nerve and just goddamn kill myself already.
A few years ago, I lived in hell.
Today, I live in heaven.
Still climbing the same mountain.
Still smoking the same weed.
I never thought I would get to where I am now. I thought my life would just keep getting worse and worse and then I’d be dead. But shit got better. I changed on the inside, ‘man, and you’re partially responsible for that, noted reader. Things actually got better for me, and if you think about it right, you’ll realize it was all because of you.
Since you’re there, noted reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~