back….. I arrived early, before I was supposed to, but I had to arrive, not because I had to arrive, I had to arrive because I just had to, because sometime back, before it all happened, before time turned. The wheels still existed back then, but the times were different.

California west coast kind of makes me nostalgic (not retrofitting my friend), for the lack of all the quirky mathematics that usually accompanied whenever I have went out in search of peace—as it happened, Peace took a new meaning when the two naked women doing ballet inside my head jumped out of my head and fell in front of a beach that had no exclamations in its name. It was new flyer reading ‘Sex on the beach’, the one that wasn’t the cola we are usually served in the bars, neither was it related to weird animals rubbing away their friction-energy into the sand, it was really sex, as I used to label everything with when my vocabulary used to just feed on…(cut the shit man). It felt Rome, French and English all in one breath, the foul memories that tried to enter the present were rarefied by just the distant sounds of the waves, as if my thoughts somehow developed some kind of walls whiskered with the wind of the tall pine trees.

I was looking for freedom, and that is why I didn’t seem to care, I was running back, to that lost and buried feeling of sometime when I believe I wasn’t taking it to the limit, the limits that are defined and redefined these days. But beautiful places seem to center themselves as some peace award, with all those past moments suddenly clinging on like algae and weeds cling on the shores of the ocean. Ocean and Ocean waves are one thing that make me realize the greater truth that I lose among the smaller things in life, that greater doesn’t have to mean greater and smaller doesn’t have to be smaller just because they are words that mean something in any tone of human inventions.

Somewhere in Monterey, our abilities to think went left and right. We actually succumbed to the pressures of wine, we crumbled, and we gave it to the wine, but it wasn’t the wine. Just a reminder of the good feminine nature of wine—that it does everything {that a woman does in a relationship – a woman in a relationship does in a relationship}(not sure I used the right set of braackets). They are actually the signs of times, which can happen to few concentrated molecules called humans are caught between the earth, wind, fire and water, it is ok, excuse me?—Please go and melt some ass please.

I wonder if traveling is one of those instincts that we are hardwired with, like we don’t have to learn to reproduce, it is something that humans have been doing since ages, that is how we discovered unknown lands, we seek, we are always searching for something, and our search makes us travel, it just makes sense like peeing—-just is so simple, we have to pee when the time comes. Even our genes from the ancestors have been traveling, inside me and you, we just don’t know that we are the same, and some of us are not moving enough to create space for others to move freely, I guess that I how it works, I am not here to butt the fuck really—to question existence really.

But it is good to search, I search more often that I should, I search when I don’t know what to do, and I search when I know what to find. If we find something that we were searching, we reset our options and fill more parameters to search. I guess to search itself is a satisfaction by itself; we do not necessarily have to stop traveling because we have found something, and it is the process more than the results may be that we should value more. We can’t be satisfied, which is beauty of the truth, we don’t need to question that, we shouldn’t stop just because we didn’t get a ticket on the suborbital space flight, our rollercoaster’s are rolled out in front of us, we just need to fasten our seat belts.

I have been a Virgin many times, and I have been stripped out of it many times, this is one of those times.

It happens sometimes, when peace gives way, and we are left speechless as we would feel if we are endowed with the pleasures of marrying a bi-sexual woman, it can get pretty unbelievable. I actually started writing this to give a sleazy account of what happened when I (and my friends) decided to go gay, but I have instead started shredding some inconsequential wisdom (if I will call it).