Day 186

And in the end, they all realized that the real monster was the one trying to eat them.
Politics can be so complicated sometimes ...

Day 185

Adult monster of today:
Not sure what this monster looks like, or even how they do it, but sometimes: weights are just chained to my arms and legs. And getting up from bed just doesn't seem possible ...
Set traps, I guess?
This thing is annoying! And I had so much to do today ...

Day 184

This is a particularly annoying adult monster:
Time over space lordz!
Yeah, there's more than one and they're more like pests than individual monsters.
These things essentially devour an individuals time at the least opportune moment.
Y'know when you're coming up on an appointment and it sneaks right up on you? That's because these lil guys gorged themselves on your time, when you weren't paying attention!
And to make matters worse, they use the time they've eaten and convert it into space! Space they lay right at your feet, putting further distance between you and the location of your appointment.
So not only is time fading away, your destination is moving even farther away from you!
The way to beat these things is by slowing down time, thereby cutting off their food supply.
How do you slow down time?
Build a time dilation dampener!
... or y'know, listen to music. Either way.

Day 183

Because this pops up in life from time to time, yet ANOTHER adult monster:
Death M.D.
The creature strongly resembles the plague doctors of the 14th century. However, as they were the size of a full grown adult, this one stands at just under a foot.
The monster is so named, because of it's primary form of diagnosis, regardless of symptoms you may or may not be exhibiting.
Feeling tired? Outcome is likely death.Not hungry? Death.
Trouble finding the words necessary to express a thought? That actually sounds like it may be symptomatic of a mild case of early onset DEATH!!!!!!!It's hard to argue with anyone that went to med school - I mean, I went to school for 8 years too, where's my PHD - but the best way to dismiss this annoying parasite involves defeating the fear of death; by living a good life.
Then Death M.D. no longer has anything to scare you with.

Day 182

Yet another adult monster:
The LOOKOUT lookout
A giant pair of bloodshot eye: with pupils ever dilating and colors ever changing. Equipped with an absurdly large set of binoculars, it has a megaphone for a mouth.
If your life is journey and you live it by setting sail, this monster would call out every obstacle and destination no matter how far away either may be.
Got a new job to ease up on the financial burden of being an artist?
"WATCH OUT! YOU'RE GONNA GET SUCKED INTO THIS AND DIE REGRETTING NOT SPENDING MORE TIME PURSUING YOUR CRAFT!"
Have a crush on a stranger?
"MEMORIZE THIS TIME AND PLACE BECAUSE YOU TWO ARE GONNA HAVE A BUNCH OF KIDS AND THEY'RE GONNA WANNA KNOW HOW SOOOOOOULMATES MEET!!!"
Indecisive about whether or not to go to that thing tonight?
"THIS DECISION MAY LEAD TO YOUR DEATH!!!!"
The lookout isn't a pessimist, nor are they an optimist. They're an alarmist.
What is important to note, is they only offer speculation. No solutions. No options for action.
Ask it "so what?" and the creature will have very little to offer.
I figure the best thing to do is give the lookout something irrelevant to speculate on. Like a TV show, or book series. Just whatever you do, don't let your life be led by a hyperbolic alarmist.

Day 181

Yet another adult monster!
The Butt monster. A giant disembodied butt in the way of your happiness.
Imagine: you're working hard - you set goals and you work towards them.
You're being productive and you are taking active steps towards your own fulfillment.
Then, something good plops in front of you.
An opportunity, a gift, just a compliment from someone.
You might even enjoy these unexpected olive branches from the karma police, if not for a giant floating butt that gets in the way, insisting that this is a trap or a distraction or actually something bad in disguise.
Maybe even somehow warping this boon into a convoluted justification of your own shortcomings.
You may ask, how does a floating butt do all that?
Farts. Fowl, distracting, off putting farts that will sour any positive experience you have, if you let it.
Beware the butt monster.
Beware.

Day 180

The problem with someone like you, trying to provoke someone like me, is that I don't have your cheekbones.
Yea. Cheekbones.
If I had cheekbones like that, I'd keep them away from any sort of conflict.
Preserve them, much like you have. Keep them clean and uncut.
Maybe even moisturize. Do you moisturize? You should moisturize.
Now. My ugly mug, on the other hand, its already pretty banged up on the front end. Genetic lottery, I begrudge no one, it is what it is. And it has led to my crafting such a magnificent personality, as you are currently privileged enough to be sampling.
As such: a turn or two or three with a pipe or brass ring or a knife or gnashing teeth or a couple of thumb screws - do we have thumb screws somewhere around here? Never mind we'll send for 'em - what I'm meaning is: I'm not losing much from some too heavy petting.
But you.
You step to me, you better kill me.
Anything short of that and - well ... you got them pretty cheekbones.

Day 179

Another adult monster I've encountered:
This one can be particularly annoying, and one I had encountered a lot at college and university. Possibly most of high school, too ...
Whether at work or in a social setting, I may find myself out of sync with the people around me.
Either I'm feeling optimistic and energized or I find myself on low day - I'm simply not walking to the same beat that the others are.
That's because, unbeknownst to me at the time, there was a little monster floating right beside my ear.
A tiny gramophone with wings, who plays the soundtrack of the world around me directly into my ear canal; but at either a higher rate of resolutions or slowed to a crawl. Either way, I'm not in rhythm with the the world around me.
And that can be isolating.
So go away tiny gramophone.
There are people alive today who have no idea what you're supposed to represent, even!
You're an antiquated reference!
You're the one who's out of sync!!
You're constantly in need of readjustment from a disembodied hand after repeating the same song lyric over and over again, not me!!!!!!

Day 178

The lad came to the base of an ungodly high cliff face.
The next height could not be seen through the gathering mists.
It seemed our would-be hero, had reached his end. This impediment would be the thing to end his quest.
He removed his cap, tossing it to the ground in frustration.
He ruffled his matted hair and paced back and forth. As though the ritual would make the mountain somehow smaller, or himself taller.
Neither occurred.
With a sigh, he picked up his crumpled hat, placed it on his head, and began to walk back the way he came.
But then he stopped and looked back at the impediment to his journey. One with no perceivable end. Or even a beginning . . .
So, seized by impulse, he clasped the rim of his cap and tossed it up into the mist.
When it didn't fall back down to Earth, the man smiled in spite of himself.
He wasn't about to scale a mountain.
He just needed to fetch his hat. After all, he couldn't very well return without it now, could he?

Day 177

"What do you most desire?" asked the voice in the dark.
"I don't know," Came my response. "Kind of busy with work to think about it." I explained with a strange calm, despite my clearly being faced by a monster in the dark.
"How can I take, if you've nothing to offer?" Came an almost petulant hiss.
Though neither form, nor face, nor feature could be perceived; I could sense this unseen other's disappointment.
"Sorry to disappoint." I replied. Still calm, though now more than a little insecure. "Perhaps return in a year or so. Maybe then I'll have some exciting new opportunities?"
"You won't." The thing groaned. "I've seen your type before. You'll keep insisting on dreams to come, that never do. Opportunities on the horizon, which never appear."I was being measured up by a voice in the dark.
"Best leave you behind and move on. Otherwise I may starve myself to death!"The sound of slithering scales, followed by flapping wings are heard. Then: nothing.
Just myself alone. Alone to face the reality that I had been spared by a creature of the night for no other reason than having no drive. No dreams. Nothing of value to take.
A life presently void of wonderment.
Who knew adult monsters would bring such existential introspection ...

Day 176

The irony of this working artist's struggle was that he needed money, as much as he hated it.
He hated needing it in order to work.
He hated working for it, while still needing it.
He hated hating it, for needing it in order to work more and need it still!
It wasn't that he though himself above service, or labour. He would gladly do both, with a song in his heart if it meant offering something valuable to the world around him.
However, it seemed an injustice that the thing only he could provide; namely art made by him, was less economically valid, than a list of tasks and tricks that both could and would haply be performed by crowds of eager workers without complaint.
People who want to work in order to live. Who live by their work.
He simply worked in order to work more.
He felt he was taking, by working.
Instead of giving.
This is the artist's struggle. The artist's fear: not giving.

Day 175

Tonight's high fantasy adventure will not feature dragons.

I do like dragons, but they're getting too check press these days.

Neither will our imaginary quest feature wizards - nor any magic of any kind, really.

There will be zero sword fights, no riddles before a weeping willow and zero lakes of fire.

It will be the impossible tale of a man being able to sustain himself by pursuing his crafts. He will not have 3 supplementary jobs, he will not have to sacrifice sleep, exercise and socializing in order to commit to these endeavours. 

He will, in effect, be a working artist.

That's the fantasy.

That's the impossible thing we'll be thinking on.

Day 174

Retreat is a natural tendency. People need space, sometimes. Vacation, meditation and long afternoons alone in bed are all commonplace activities. Less so is the compulsion to seal oneself in a small cave.
Yet, that is precisely what our hero had set out to do.
And with the last stone in place, our hero now finds himself - at last - completely isolated.
Cut off from the light of day. From words and worries; the world itself.
He and himself alone, completely, as intended.
...
Now what? He thinks to himself, having finally achieved solitude.
Why did I want this? He asks to no one.
No answer comes.
No endgame was ever truly envisioned, he just knew it was what he had wanted.
Want spurred on by drive.
Some kind of calling - yes, he was called here. To this place.
To this pocket from the world. His own crack in space and time.
Here, where there was no supervision. No witness.
Anything could be said here.
That was it! He needed privacy in order to ...
...
Shit.
He really had no purpose for being here.
Nothing would come of this.
This wasn't a separation from the world, it was a perfect representation of it.
Fumbling through the dark of a cramped cavern, trying not to use up all the oxygen.
Alone.
"Now what?" he says, this time aloud.
"Now," the stranger replies, "we can talk."

Day 173

A man practices waking up with optimism.
He lies on his bed, faking sleep, awaiting the alarm he has preset.
It goes of, playing some happy tunes.
The man rises eagerly, feigning only the slightest weariness - this is a practice run after all - and lets the cheerful music play long enough for the man to dance into his wardrobe and greet his smiling reflection.
He turns off the alarm, finally satisfied with the results.
Tomorrow morning he will wake up drive and optimism, and he will have a good day after.
How could he not.
He's been practicing waking up all night ...

Day 172

Wake up.
The walls are falling down...

Day 171

If you can't win it, it's not a game. And if you have to win it: you're no longer playing.

Day 170

Once upon a time we were two figures fumbling in the dark, trying to discover one another.
Then a flash of light came and with it, a moment of brilliant vulnerability.
Only a moment; but one in which we both were witness to what would never be unseen.
I saw in you a terrifying depth of complexity and promise. Like it;s night time and the ocean and skyline are indecipherable, and I'm just  swimmer trying to find dry land.
In awe. Overwhelmed.
And yes: scared.
What you see in me ... well. I guess I never asked.
I just assumed you saw me for what I felt like in front you: small.
Funny, I never thought to ask.
I should've asked.
A moment's sight. Forever more shy.

Day 169

While drinking flavored vodka and ginger ale, instead of exercising or juggling, our hero pours over old correspondences and transcripts left over from his school days. When looking through numerous submissions and inquiries from nearly five years prior, he makes a startling discovery: he had presented the incorrect phone number for all of them! The result of which had given rise to more than a few grudges and created fractures in numerous social interaction.
Too late, our hero realizes the error has been his all this time.
Sadly, too much time had passed to make amends.
And so, our hero sets out to invent time travel.
It is the only course of action . . .

Day 168

I know why you're distressed.It's overwhelming, isn't it? All the worlds burdens falling at once and you are asked which ones are to caught?
Put simply, you are crippled by indecision.
But I am going to help you.  am going to ask you to make a decision, a difficult decision, and you are going to make it.
So, which piece of your body are you going to lose?
Overwhelming, I know. So many pieces to choose from.
In my experience, you must take stock of these overwhelming decisions and narrow them down to a choice of one decision, or another.
Infinite possibility: down to a choice between two.
So: you are about to have a piece of yourself removed and - DON'T INTERUPT!
...
A piece must be removed. Likely you'll want it to be a small piece, so let's make it a choice between finger or toe?
Which shall you lose? Finger, or toe?
...
Finger! Excellent choice!
Loss of a toe would most certainly cause a limp.
Now rather than think, which of these ten fingers shall be subtracted to make nine, ask yourself: right, or left?
Ring or pinky?
You see. Less stressful.
I hope this will aid you in your future decision making endeavors!
Now. give us your hand; the one to be mutilated.
Yes. The one you chose to be mutilated.

Day 167

And then we woke up.
Both at once. In a bed neither of us had made.
In a home neither of us knew.
Each possessing no memory of them self, or the other.
Yet, there remained in each of us the deeply rooted assurance that the person next to us, was supposed to be there.
That wheresoever we were, we were supposed to be there together.
So lay there, in a strange room's strange bed; guessing at the life me might have, when we both must rise up and discover who we are.

Day 166

Best way to fold a fitted sheet:
Lay the sheet on your bed.
Lay yourself on the sheet on your bed.
Place your hands in the top two corners and your feet in the bottom two corners.
Pretend you're trying to escape from a pit of comfy sheets, thrashing wildly hitherto and erst-ways!
Eventually you will be wrapped up inside a fitted sheet.
You will find it comfortable and soothing.
Take a nap.
Dream of a world where fitted sheets are easily fold-able and all anxiety can be solved through play.
Take that dream with you upon waking.
Wake up.
Live your dreams.
You win!

Day 165

Missed connections:
That night she learns you're not gay.
And you learn she is ...

Day 164

Nothing is certain and everything is a gamble.
But I'm willing to bet all the money I don't have, against all the money you do, that our odds at happiness are much higher in that space between where I stop and you start.
That the demilitarized zone that some reality setup between all living creatures - so that we will never be closer than extremely close, while killing ourselves trying to get closer than that - is where we should go out to and meet.
Because the battles are in ourselves. We're each our own mad, ego maniacal dictator trying desperately to convince our inner kingdom that we're gods unto this world. When really we're scared, confused children.
But when we step outside into that indifferent air, we at last find room to breathe.
To stumble. And stumbling gives way to dancing. Dancing to the music of the laughter you're making, and that is being made around you, by another deposed deity.
We find ourselves exiles from ourselves.
Where is this magical place?!
In the space between me and you.
And it's waiting for each of us to fill it.
So ... do you wanna dance with me?

Day 163

He'd collapsed near the foot of his bed, too tired to finish the journey to his rest.
What mattered the difference? On the floor or on a mattress, the following day's struggles would come.
Let gravity win out this time.
Let us submit.
Then, as if in stark reply, the man's arm snaked itself across the floor, and finger-tipped it's way to the foot of the bed. The hand grabbed hold of the solid frame its owner's body slightly nearer.
The mind had given up, but the rest would not allow a floor side slumber.
"Even this, I must fight?" He whined, "Even now?"
"Even this." Came the gentle reply, "Even now."
Gradually the man found himself in the fetal position beneath the covers of his bed.
His mind ready to be at ease. To let subconsciousness perform it's midnight miracles ...
"I'm sorry." He thought.
"I forgive you." He replied.
"Thank you." He sighed.
"You're welcome." He assured.
All of him would be grateful, in a few short hours, for this simple comfort.

Treat yourself gently.
Acknowledge when you are not.

Day 162

There is a door. A very special door.
Special, not because of the material of which it is made nor its design - the door itself is actually quite banal, if I'm being honest.
But beyond this commonplace door, lies something truly special. I'd go so far as to call it remarkable...
I won't tell you what it is, since that would be -well - telling.
What I will tell you is that the door is locked and that they key is hidden.
You may find clues to its whereabouts in a song. A song sung only once per year.
Listen for it. The song with the key.
The key is in the song.