mojo is driven by guilt.
It's 11 a.m. I'm in bed and my alarm
clock on my cell phone goes off. I hit snooze. I like when it says
it's snoozeing. I just think that's a funny spelling of the word.
I go back to sleep and revisit familiar places in my dream world.
And just when it's getting good the alarm goes off again. Snoozeing
is annoying to me and so I finally decide to get out of bed.
Guilt drove me out from beneath
the covers of my dream machine. I would feel guilty if I didn't
get out of bed. Though I'm fine with being in bed all day, for some
reason I just can't stand to tell anyone else in the world that
I slept until 2:30 in the afternoon. I just can't speak those words.
Not today. It saves so much money and life is so much easier; being
in bed. No one honks at you in bed, no one cuts you off, no one
takes the honors for your work when you stay in bed.
And no one makes money sleeping in
bed. So I got out of bed. The sun is actually shining and the music
in my car sounds so good that when I turn it up and put on my Blueblocker's™
I feel good and I can't even hear all the traffic behind me honking
in anger in rage in a rush to get back to their sea of cubicles
that reflect the gaseous, shaky fluorescent lights from above.
I'm driving to a diner where they
serve eggs and the waitress is very nice to me, even when I don't
tip her. Nice people, the act of kindness, the act of being nice,
acting. It all motivates me a bit more to do a bit more before I
go back to bed. A walk past a glass, first-floor board room meeting
where I'm taunted: "moon them, show them what it's like to
be free." And so a few steps back and the pants come down before
I walk in front of the over-sized window where there appears to
be a serious business meeting taking place. Men and women all in
the divine act of business, acting like business people with their
suits on and their egos wound tightly around the idea of their day-time
character. The overwhelming need for me to show them what being
alive can be like makes me show them my ass in the freezing Chicago
winter cold. And before I walk away I look into the window to see
if they're with me. And they are. Their inner child begins to giggle,
then laugh, then release from the mold to which they'd been sentenced.
And that motivates me. Liberty of the soul. It's okay to laugh you
Thank God they'll never know what
time I got out of bed. And with that, it's once again time to visit
some old friends in my dream machine.