Under the shadow of the bodhi tree, meditating perfection and visualizing aspects of an entertaining live show. Impossible visions if mottled with vodka-sweat or thc-attached braincell mutation. Must be clear and tired. Laying vertically spinning nauseous with the pace of the world magnetic pull spin. Noxious gases, realizing the religious experience everyone must feel when entering space. But there is no sound for a muslim call to prayer. Like one man summits everest (sigarmatha) with the doobie brothers playing 'jesus is just alright' every step of the way the last few hundred feet. Hours of work to achieve these feet. Sheer altitude and exhaustion. Must take a step every few minutes to conserve energy. At this point you are in another dimension and the mind races to capture enough fuel to make it without allowing the amassing snow to sound comfortable. Blood turns to ice and inhaling is potentially disastrous due to icicles forming in the lungs or the throat. If they don't melt they will pierce through vital organs. Becoming a snow man. every winter. Come to life and melt.
I visualized where I would be in six days. On stage again. A real stage. Real music. Real people. Lunatics and wranglers. Try to steal my heart out from under me. But I'm here for art and for fun and for parties and booze. Let me live out my healthy fantasies under the beaming sun. There is time to careful preparation and spark notes. There is time for improvisation and sweating bullets that rain down onto the audience like hail storm. Everything will be just fine for me. I've made enough friends. There are enemies here everywhere. Must not let any of them penetrate our defenses. We are a solid army. We all visualize the experience and the lights and confusion. Confetti cannons aimed at our heads. Let's forget we exist for awhile and fall rhythmically into the cadence. The same one kerouac felt with his bop musician days 80 years ago. The same one hunter thompson explains during his times on motorcycles in gangs. Surveying gangs. That same pulse that keeps drums beating somewhere in the jungle forests. Thick tribal beats that no one in the modern world understands anymore. We are immune to all of that.
