I see the museums of tomorrow filled with the artifacts of today.  Remnants of our lives are there.  There’s even an ornamental pot filled with a hodgepodge mix of our cultural DNA kept tepid on a neutron stove.  Don’t ask if you have a place or if I have a place there.  Don’t ask.  If you’re high, you’ll know.

(10:15…unfinished blog:  this is a day long composition…that I will be updating throughout 4/20…)

They look back on us, you know.  They look back mostly with piercing eyes trying to pry into our mysteries.  Gimlet eyes that radiationally hunger for our absorption.  That is the hunger I feel.  The hunger that wants to know what it felt for us to be real.  For us to be.  Listen, you’ll hear them from afar and feel their gaze.  The future is finally becoming our voyeur.  Time itself is tripping.  And all our *realities* are subject to revamping.

(10:29…unfinished blog:  this is a day long composition…that I will be updating throughout 4/20…)

Yet drawn am I not only to the numinousity of this back-infusing future and our current prospects for lunging thereto, but also to our own ancestors capacity for wondering about us—and us about them.  Can we suspend temporalities and huddle in a nurturing timelessness?  They *pushed* us to here.  Can’t you feel the push? We are where they left off—the empowerment of their future, their dreams.  We are the culmination of countless human Fizzies fuzzed into fruition.

(12:05…unfinished blog:  this is a day long composition…that I will be updating throughout 4/20…)