Chronicles of Bulwonkle, Tourist Detective "Morning on the Island"

Beverly sleeps late. My body on the other hand wakes itself at first light always has. I think something is a little off with me because I have never felt fear in my life but just the thought of living in Alaska and not being able to sleep for weeks or even months on end … now that's scary to me because I need my sleep. Without a solid six hours, I'm for shit, man.

I like to run the beach around the island before the sun is even up. It took a long time for my feet to harden enough to make it barefoot. Sounds easy right I mean it's just sand but haul ass in it for a good hour to make it around the whole island that can be a pounding, believe me. I try to warn people that paradise will sneak up on you and just clean your clock it's terrible for that because no one ever sees it coming because it's “paradise”. Except me, of course.

I always go clockwise around because I'm right handed. I like this time of morning it's light enough to see but the island is still mostly sleeping or just rising and usually a sea breeze is just starting to kick up and birds sing and chirp and squawk. Big, fat Iguana watch from their perches in the trees and countless lizards scatter underfoot. I never get tired of the lizards here they're the smartest goddamn creatures on earth – did you know that? Just the way they cock their heads an look you right in the eye all the time as if to say, “I got you all figured out, Human”.

This whole eastern side catches the predominate winds and on my right a series of mostly three story beach condos soak up every centimeter of sea frontage. I hear my name as a hand pops out the window a boat docked and I wave back, “morning Augustus. Good hunting!” Lobster this time of year but Augustus would come back with fish as well you could count on it and I do often do business in the evening. He came from Honduras with his wife twenty years ago to the island so that his children may have a better life. Like most of us here, an immigrant or at least a transplant from the mainland. Very few islanders are original families here. You can tell the original family members if you pay any attention at all they are entirely different from Gringos.

Someone asked me once what is the difference and I said well they have souls. We all start out with souls, of course, only those who grow up on this island and stay here all their lives they live in such peace and beauty their entire lives that their precious souls never get beaten out of them.

My favorite part is the southern side of the island which is the most forested and natural area. If I gave a shit about birds, I would be able to list hundreds of species easily. But I don't. Did you know that the only living creatures related to dinosaurs are birds? That's why I don't fully trust the little bastards I think Hitchcock had it about right, frankly. Only a matter of time before the birds kill us all.

One thing I love about this island is that it has a good beach most all the way around. I don't see any structures until rounding the south side and heading back up the west side where mainly locals live in shanties lacking the amenities most of our tourists and local expatriates find essential, including myself, I am not ashamed to admit. I'm hot waters biggest fan. If you pay any attention, though, you notice that the people are by and large smiling and happy and the children are very happy. How many times I have seen people on vacation so glum compared to the local serving them and making not enough money from it to barely feed their family.

It's hard to be happy without a soul.

Near where the western side along the bay meets the northern side is the old power station with its enormous train car size generators mostly dormant now used only as backup since we put in an underwater cable from the mainland. By the time I return to our apartment taking up the second floor of Miss Avlanter's enormous old mansion, the sun is coming up. To my surprise Beverly is already on the deck watching the sunrise with a cup of coffee held in both hands blowing on it gently. A little steam rises up from the cup and her lips so close to the lip of the cup and the steam rising and the sun rising behind O man makes me love her so much you have no idea. I wish to God I could paint but I cannot draw a straight line but just this scene is the most beautiful I have ever seen in my life.

After I get a cup of coffee myself, I go out on the deck and stand behind her quietly stroking her long hair. She finally sips the coffee cautious as always truly a woman after my own heart. She says, you're taking me to breakfast this morning I'm up early.

I see that, I say. You are beyond beautiful right now. Epic beauty. Staggering. Mesmerizing -

Enough! Bev says, kissing the back of my hand. I took a piss and rushed out here so I could see the sun rise haven't even washed my face yet for God's sakes, Bull.

You doubt my perception?

It is my life's work to doubt your perceptions apparently but I love what I do – now take me in the shower then take me to breakfast I'm hungry this morning for some reason.
* * * * *

We hold hands walking up to Anita's Place and I feel very happy the morning is clear and not too hot and we have an invite to go snorkeling off a guys yacht. He's either the nicest guy in the world or else a front for some Mexican Mafia I'm not certain yet so this outing will be fun and hopefully informative.

It's easy to kill one bird with one stone, I always say, shoot for killing two birds with one stone. Why fuck around, right – I mean life's too short?

Hey Babe I was thinking what about adopting children - I would be a great dad and you would be a great mom.

Bev says, you would be a terrible dad, Bull that's out of the question – volunteer at the school with the kids maybe? I've already been a Mom, thank you very much.

I'm afraid to do that volunteer with the kiddies deal because one of the little buggers might claim I touched em in the bad place just to fuck with me.

What? Why on earth would a child do that?

O Bev I wished I lived in your world of rainbows and unicorns Jesus kids are little monsters I think I read that in Psychology Today. Have to think ahead, you know that, calculate those unlikely and often unseemly potentialities. It's a dirty job but someone has to do it. Give me credit remember when I was talking about how an airplane engine could fall out of the sky and crush someone then we saw it on the news, right?

I see it coming, Bev, it's a gift and a curse, what can I say?

You know Bull for someone who claims to have never felt fear, you sure are paranoid – you ever think about that?

You mean paranoia IS fear? Damn, I turn that around in my mind as we get to Anita's? I just learned something about myself here that I've been terrified my whole life. It was a real moment of realization for me rare thing these days.

Thank you, Beverly, you taught me something about myself.

Don't thank me, it's what I do. Welcome to the human race, Bev says. Damn I'm hungry.

"Bulwonkle, Tourist Detective" (working deep cover on the paradisaical isle of Nohwar)

What can I say, you know, I can proffer no rational defense. She literally had me at “hello”. I couldn't even begin to say exactly why some gestalt of physical mannerism, physique and her blue eyes and her calm, strong and yet open energy. Now how possibly to articulate just the energy of her a grounded, even nature and it was so clearly just how Michelle had been created by God. I felt my ego boundaries melting and thought, “O shit, here we go again, man, down that rabbit hole of love.”

For better or worse, that's how I am, right, just how I was made by God: While to the world I show a fist, in love I am that guy following my heart around like a puppy on a leash. 

Come on, I entreat Michelle, swim with me? 

No, she says, it's chilly this morning and I'm tired of fighting that Sargasso. I'll stay and drink all the coffee, she winks, you go ahead, Love, knock yourself out.

Don't drink all the coffee, Michelle. Don't be an asshole, I tell her serious as I can be as I start off across the couple dozen yards of sand separating our deck from the shores of the Caribbean.

You're such a huge asshole, Bull, that you are not allowed to ever call anyone else an asshole, ever. I know we went over that rule several times already.

I yell back, You have too many rules, you know that right!

Just go swim and let me drink coffee in peace, Bull. I can't laugh hard this early in the morning or something bad might happen. And keep your goddamn trunks on and I mean it now! You have a responsibility to be a good citizen!

I turn to face Michelle dropping my shorts on the sand – you’re not the boss of me, I yell back at her. I look up and down the beach a good, slow, easy inspection with a hyper-vigilance honed since suffering early childhood trauma: turn your weaknesses into strength, I always say. But such is the life of a Tourist Cop working deep cover in paradise where, by the way, you really have to keep your wits about you at all times because paradise has a way of sneaking up on you and cleaning your clock when you least expect it, man.

Anyway, everything's copacetic, time for a good swim.

I don't know why but I thought of Michelle giving me a hard time about swimming naked. Fucking society right, it's a classic Freudian trap. The Id is such an innocent monster and wants to run around naked, happy and free and crap all over the place. That poor little bastard  just gets shoved back into its box by social pressures and all it wants is to be itself. So it's no wonder that twenty years of life sees people so uptight that they cannot take a proper crap for god's sake. I work myself up as swim against the very slight current of the morning tide, the water feeling slightly warmer than the air today. And then there you go, I can't swim naked in the ocean because I am surrounded by these anal retentive types. Well my Id is free, dammit. 

I stop to float for a long while on my back and look up at the clear blue sky. I think of forming a support group called, “Anal Expulsive Anonymous” but decide against it for more or less obvious reasons. The money would be in Stupid Anonymous, I just know it. I'll instruct the members to mail in their thoughts and feelings to me on the back of twenty dollar bills, right. Damn, that's like free money hanging on a money tree waiting to he plucked. Note to self, Bulwonkle: get on that chop chop. It's hard to find time because deep cover tourist detective work is more than a full time job, man, it's a way of life.

I swim back still a little bitter about that tourist family and all the fuss they made when all I was doing was trying to help, as usual. Someone needs to be concerned about their safety as tourists! Besides that their children should see adult genitalia so they can come to accept that our human form for what it is something natural and nothing to be freaked out about. Jesus Christ these people are positively primitive.

Back on the deck, I grab us both a cup of coffee and join Michelle overlooking the aqua marine waters glistening brightly with morning sunlight. 

Here comes a family down the beach now Bull, she says, patting the chair next to her, sit down next to me and be quiet and leave them alone.

I say a bit more defensively than I mean to, are you still talking about the uptight family from the states -

You were naked lecturing them with their children right there -

Whoa, hey, I never lecture! I was welcoming them to our fair island and giving them some friendly and I might add free safety tips.

Whatever, Bull, just sit here with me hold my hand and smile.

So I do and happily so. I love Michelle for a lot of reasons but definitely one is for being such a perfect smart ass. We watch the family slowly make their way past, husband and wife holding hands walking ankle deep in the surf with the two small children, a boy and girl, frolicking along a little deeper in. All of them pink as baby mice. Blue sky and Caribbean green sea as a backdrop. Coffee. Michelle’s hand in mine. Life is good and our little isle is safe and sound for pink as baby mice families to carelessly wander the beaches. 

I lean over and kiss Michelle on the neck then ask her seriously, how come no matter how hard I try to come across, you know, and really talk to people, they end up mostly saying, “Please don't hurt me, Mister!”? Another thing I love about her is how I can talk to her about anything and how she takes me seriously. Michelle really gets things.

She says, It's a combination of the delivery, standing way too close which, by the way, we've talked about that, remember personal space! And then there's your eyes, Sweetheart. She stoops to kiss me on the cheek going for another cup of coffee and I die a little bit just looking into her bright, blue eyes and that smile. It’s not your fault, Babe, Michelle touches my cheek, that your gaze razes people to the ground. They think you’re insane but I know you’re just a bit aspy.

Tripping From a Mushroom's Point of View

Hey, psst, dude - you ready to trip on some humans!?

Wha? I think I nodded off – what now - ?

Well, I hope so cause they’re coming our way right now. Hey don't tell me you've never tripped on humans before?

No, honestly, I haven’t ever - “tripped” as you say.

Oh, wow, a neophyte? Well, well are you in for some fun, kid. Okay, they’re getting close so I think this shit is going down. Not much time now just listen up cause we’ve been eatin by these humans for millenniums. Personally, I love me some human. I mean Srsly! First rate nervous system. Some say Dolphin's better but never had dolphin myself so I don't know?

I don't understa -

Listen - first of all, bro, relax. Really that's the only advice. Chill. You’re in for a quite a ride. Don’t let it get to you, right? Just enjoy it. Go with the flow. Repeat that to me now.

Sounds maybe easier said then done?

No repeat, “Go With the Flow” dammit!

“Go with the flow” the neophyte said without much conviction.

Anyway, Tripping Spores on humans is as natural as sucking life out of death, right. Just let yourself break up and flow on through them. It’s wild beyond your wildest imaginings, trust me on that. We may end up in the same one but doesn’t matter since once we cross the brain barrier and light up their fabulous – if you don't mind my sayin! - nervous system. You’ll see soon enough O and listen even if we’re not in the same human, we can hook up again once our symbiosis with their full nervous system is complete O dude here we go … laugh, bro, laugh … this is going to be a blast!

"Now Is Dynamic" Metaphysical Essay

June 2018 and the skies are not on fire so I'll give thanks for that and while there are no jetpacks a fact over which we all of a certain age hold inside of us a smoldering resentment that if brought up to the level of a thought might be, "I was promised jetpacks dammit man promised and where the hell are the jetpacks? I'm not really seeing it and I'm not happy about it". Still there is much to be grateful for just as a species that we are even still here. I think we humans should carpe diem really will be a full blown miracle if we don't self destruct so each day is a gift. Tell the people we love we love them, forget bucket lists there's no future do it now. Now is the fulcrum of time lean into it and now becomes the way, the soul's path, that roaring torrent of the winds of the Tao. When I realized that eternity is not a very long length of time but is the absence of time, I feel like "Now" made more sense how counter-intuitively stepping fully into now somehow is like stepping into a stream so is movement and there is a back and a forward and a constant flow my thought comes to mind that the river is itself around every single bend so "Now" is not static more to the point, Now is dynamic

Transformation II

Caught in the throes of metamorphosis 
No one outside sees inside
the Pupae
Serene on the outside but internally
ecstatic discomfort
Amphibian dreams, the dreaming of plants,
of fungi,
The world at large of Kaleidoscopic patterns
and sacred geometries
Four billion years of evolution exalted
in new being
Frail, transparent wings still wet and new
still folded shut
The Moth head bowed introspectively
wings drying
Finally unfolding of the self body fully
wakens the soul's purpose
The moth takes flight under the full
Scorpio full moon

"Sometimes Angels Save Themselves"

After ten klicks at a hard run, she feels a genuine gratitude for the lightness of these titanium alloy blades but has to think about slowing down, light as the swords may be, the effort wears upon her now. The ground had been mostly open and her lead on her pursuers only slight and it was about time for her to make a move so she reaches in as deep as she could and thinking fast she pours it on with a surge of speed meant to draw them on behind her even faster which it does as they kept pace still nipping at the heels of her boots.

The country now rolling prairie with sparse ground cover and no trees at all. She crests the steepest hill yet and just as she starts descending spins on a dime planting herself firmly dropping to her knees leaning slightly forward in toward her pursuers at a forty five degree angle to break the forward momentum facing now these oncoming horrors of self doubt, self hate, fear and madness with both swords drawn and held fast blades forward crisscrossing arms bent at ninety degrees and wrists locked now a bodily knot of tense muscle awaiting the impact of the karma screaming down upon her full bore. Her ploy works as the Banshees lost in their hot pursuit are caught off guard and cannot break their forward momentum believing they had her at last so that their forward momentum slams them into the waiting assault of her blades. She closes her eyes muscles trembling with effort as her back, hips, thighs and quads absorb the brunt of the impact feeling the hot gore of flesh and bone and blood impacting her face as the bulk of them split one after another by the blades disembowel cascading over her compacted body now taught like one great muscle and in a split second it seems these demons so long in pursuit are ripped asunder by the onslaught of their own momentum executed against the razor sharp, implacable blades of her swords.

Opening her eyes, shuddering involuntarily, exhausted, she drops the blades to the ground. They do not clatter but thump dully so coated are they with blood and gore as they hit the hard packed dirt and rock. Her body trembles from the strain as she falls back upon her thin ass cheeks rolling onto her right side then and covering her head with her hands sobbing once and for all time a wracking sound that seems to tremble the earth underneath. She sobs so hard and so long that she cannot breath feeling she would pass out from lack of oxygen before finally managing a gasp of air. She realizes dully now barely conscious that she had been running for more than ten kilometers. She had been running for her whole life full tilt running for as long as she could remember being alive. Running out of a child's helpless terror, running in pain and in misplaced guilt and fear and in anger and fervid, hopeless remorse.

After some unfathomable length of time curled up there on the stark, cold earth alone in a pile of gory flesh already grown cold, she manages to walk the fingers of her right hand over to the hilt of one of her blades feeling too exhausted to cry any longer and when her long, thin, blood cakes fingers touch the hilt of her blade, she thinks a little wildly - “it’s over now, it’s finally over”.

"A New Spirit for the Discriminating Palate"

The Zeitgeist, a distilled spirit,
A sip hits like some violent ambrosia 
Goes right to the head packs a wallop
That Bright Lights and a Big City bang
For your buck

Drink a full glass and feel the glow
Delightfully provocative, resplendent
With fantastic and colorful lies
Makes you want to seat yourself
Firmly and get a grip, go to ground,
Only you cannot

Drink the bottle now you're talking
Racing ever faster to stay in the same place
A spinning and roaring of The Machine
Grinding away at the inside your own head
You no longer hear the throaty roars
Of the beguiled
Or sense the underlying seas of violence
Waves of the masses bucking and heaving
In their painful throes

The Hangover finds you on the floor at dawn
The soft dawn glow stabbing you in the eyes
You feel like a lone survivor of a bar massacre
You remember crawling away undignified
Through a confusion of the legs of combatants
At once feeling grateful to have slunk away alive
And feeling that survivors guilt and missing all
Your dignity -
When you find someone who loves you
To tell the story, you start by saying:

"One more sip and I'd have been a goner!"