I was yesterday sitting somewhere in Africa while a show went on and my body sat at 3231 Creatives. The chairs appeared in the gallery as did the people and the chairs. It was a very incredible thing. I was there and yet I was not.
I slept like a log interrupted by injections of caffeine and heroin although only blood and sugar pulsed through my veins, or so I imagined. I still don't know. I was happy to meet everyone. This is a fact. But I wasn't there, meeting them. Not really. Although I looked like a human, I was not. If only the other people knew.
I'm not really here.
In the morning, the rain began again. There were grey clouds in the sky and I didn't want to wake up because I was afraid the hope that I had begun to feel would become real. I also was afraid I would go back and be stuck in Africa forever and that I would never be able to escape.
I wanted to sleep like a log in Africa and dream while my art was displayed in an Art Gallery and I was reminded of the old times, of the old dreams, hearing whispers of old memories when things like having an art show, doing an animation seemed possible and I didn't have to escape, mentally to Africa.
And I wanted to escape it all. All of these imagined things.
I'm still not sure it is ok.
I rode my bike to the foothills, cursing and laughing at the weather, at my stomach, at the two hours of sleep, at the broken brakes, and I rode up to a small state park where I would oversee two groups that day. The first a group of college students. I took them to their plot and we start working. I point out things. I'm too quiet. I hate being an outspoken leader and volunteer overseer yet feel compelled to do so at the same time. I don't want to push them. That's not my place. I'm here to just help. They sit around for three hours looking bored and pull a it of ivy. I eat something that I can't remember. There are conversations. Were they real? Was I in Africa or perhaps somewhere else? I'm reminded of my mom in a conversation with another man and talk about a movie she liked, only realising later how weird and non-sequitir that must have seemed. Bees. Free coupons.
I ride my bike home. Tired. My brain is still in a cave or Africa. I wish the rest of me were at home.