And so it begins.

About a week ago I had this dream; driving and then turning at a busy intersection. And being hit sideways by a speeding car. Dead. Or worse. And now it has actually happened. Just like in the dream. A few days later before I drove again, I wondered if it would. Reality does not cease to amaze, or to side fuck consciousness. What does it even mean though? Now there is trauma, something that I almost half-heartedly, subconsciously admit to wanting. For some therapeutic, masochistic, self pitying reason. All I know is that this event has given me good enough reason to start this blog. This super-connected cyber collection of useless information. Oh well. Now I know what all the fuss is about, the grit and grind of mortality. But still something does not phase me. Fuck all the poetics, the smoothing out of wrinkles and attempting to sound like an online teenage pseudo-philospher. I just want something else. From this. And I'm not angry, no. And I'm not confused. I'm not clear headed either, like I am after mushrooms or sex. I'm tired. And stressed. And the back of my mother's car is missing and I almost just killed most of the sacred women in my family. I'm like some sort of fucked up freudian subconscious sexist or something. I don't want to be though. I don't want to be a lot of things. But I am. The truth is, when I wake up and go out into the world, I don't know how to agree with it. I just don't. It disagrees with me, and I with it. It's all in the disagreements. It's all in the falling out.