ONE HUNDRED MILLION BILLION EYES: the second in a series I have written on confusion. Death-bed, fever dream, fucked-up acid trip confusion. Like when you forget if you said something out loud or just thought it, then realize you haven't spoken just as a stranger replies and you're not sure if it was a coincidence, or if they read your mind, or if you really did speak. Or when the sound of the wind, by the sea, or the rain, when it pours, makes it hard to think and you become calm, become the pattering, splatting rain and colors run, boundaries blur, until you cannot see the street signs and are lost as in a dream and as in a dream, you encounter shape-shifting truths, paradoxical insights you have been seeking for years and years.

I believe there is divinity in these moments of idiocy. That when stop grasping for solid truths, find faith and humility, when we accept ourselves as creatures of limited awareness, we are given in return obscure insight, glimpses of unspeakable wonders. 

This story is a love letter to the lovely, lonely walks I took in Portland this Winter and the melancholy of the PNW. The urge to lay down in some marshy crook of a park and decompose, let the rain dissolve you and the mushrooms eat you. 

I encourage you to listen to the audio version. This is the first of several collaborations I will be doing with producer-musician extraordinaire AEVA. He has soundtracked the entire story, giving it atmosphere and texture. If you are not normally a reader, or haven't yet engaged with my writing, this is the story for you. Give it a listen and tell me what you think in the comments

xoxoxo 

GG