Anita's Child

Run Away World of Japan Page 6

25. I closed my eyes, folded my arms and rested against the back of my chair, and tried to picture what I would write next. The sound you hear playing in the background, if you haven't turned off the sounds, is the same here, as I sit here pondering. I was so close to ending this story after I wrote the last passage, number 24. I thought it would be just perfect, since I started writing this on the birthday of my son Mario. Why not end it to coincide with the death of my father. I asked a good friend of mine, about my thoughts of ending this story, hoping to get some feedback, but there was none. Just as I suspected. It really doesn't make a bit of difference if I stop or continue. That leaves me with an empty feeling of "why bother?" Why do I live with the illusion that anyone really cares whether or not I continue. OK, a couple of my friends appreciate what I'm doing, but there is a chance that maybe the novelty of reading this exposition of my innermost feelings and thoughts, will wear off and life will continue galloping along without any need for my existentialist uttering. What is the meaning of this life? What is the importance of a few of us seekers, searching for the meaning of life? What individual parts of life have more meaning than the rest of it? Does life exists for life itself, never to be questioned, or is it something we are labeling, in order to begin the quest of understanding it? Try this theory of mine, and see if it makes any sense. I personally feel it is as true as anything can be. First let me explain a few things. We all understand what rot is about. I once read the story of an UFO abduction where the woman involved said she was given the message that an important human problem is how to cope with rottage. Rot after all is one of the stages of life, which we commonly understand, takes place during the last phase of any particular biological life-form, that part better known as death. But if I turn this around, there is another way to see rottage as being the first stage of life as we know it. Any large heavenly body in the universe, that cools off enough to allow steam to condense into water, will, I believe, eventually after a time of gestation, help the "planet" to rot into life. Rottage happens and "life" springs into being. This simply means that life can happen everywhere in this universe, not just here on one isolated planet. The universe is teeming with "life", most likely in numerous amounts, with variations on the same theme. Of course there will be differences in the life-time-cycles of all these rotting planets allowing "life" to happen. Some of us have seen and witnessed alien beings flying around in magical machines that certainly took many, many thousands of years to develop. Our turn will come now that we have seen that just about anything is possible. As the saying goes: "The difficult can be done, the impossible takes time". Since there are a few, if indeed a very small minority, who truly understand we aren't the only life-forms in this universe, life take on another meaning. To understand that we are not alone in the universe, will certainly remove our medieval understandings and free us from the shackles of thinking we are so unique, taking ourselves so bloody serious, to the point of fighting over who has the right religion to praise life. You certainly don't need religion to explain what is happening throughout the universe. Life happens, and it is not the doing of any particular entity. We have to get rid of all our out-dated rotten ideas and see that rottage, in a new light, is the driving force with the potential to create life everywhere in the universe. Everywhere I turn, I read and see how billions of us are still living in the Dark Ages. Some have already been to the moon and back, yet there are other nations on this planet that will never have the chance nor will they even have the desire to investigate other life-forms beyond this dying planet. Never will they dream of touching down on another planet, much less journey to other star systems. Life is: Bountiful, good, exciting, awe inspiring, fascinating, wonderful, merciful, challenging, contesting, at times dangerous. It is developing, improving, dying, going through changes, soon coming to a biological ending transforming into magical machines. But most important of all, it is an eternal evolutionary process independent of whether or not we survive on our planet. We are not alone, we are not the only ones alive in the universe. Take a walk, as I have done on many nights, and find a dark area where you can see the Milky Way with billions of stars. Gaze deep and try to imagine all the billion galaxies, beyond our own. Feel the immensity of it all, and be thrilled that you are aware of life happening everywhere. Beings like yourselves are certainly standing out there on their wandering planets. And as far as the eye can see, and beyond into infinity, wherever it may be, there will be other beings, staring back at you, thinking the same thoughts, sharing the same awe.
26. Let me see if I can with reasoning present some kind of logic. If I have a lot of clothes, I must have spent a lot time acquiring them. Clothes would be important to me. If I have a lot of food, the same could be said about it too. So if I have a lot of time, would I have spent a lot of time acquiring time? Wouldn't time be just as important to me as clothing and food? Time: I've spent a lot of time, most of my time, in fact all of my time, thinking about the time I have had, have and hope to have. I've been saving time, spending it, wasting it, hoarding it, watching it, even trying to slow it down! Time: When is the best time to spend leisure time thinking about the time you can spend reading TIME, having the time of your life? Time is so much. Without time, matter and energy would not have a leg to stand on. This is getting a little complicated, and perhaps a bit boring for some of you, so I think it is about time I put an end to this talk about time. I could try to stop talking about time, but it would be there the whole time making sure that I get enough time to think things over. There is no way to get around time, to do something without including time. Without time the moon would not rise majestically. Without time we could not experience the greatest emotion, love. No moon for lovers, no loving of an ascending moon. Without time,..matter wouldn't matter, it couldn't behave energetically enough to function matter-of-factly, so nothing would matter at all. As a matter of fact, it is a timely thing, for the moment, that the thing we can't put our finger on, is happening all the time, allowing the things that truly matter to become a part of our reality, by giving us the tools and objects we use measuring all our movements and our moments. The measure of life. I have many clocks spread throughout my 3 room apartment, ticking along, ready to remind me what time it is and where I am in time and space. Thank goodness for that. I need to know where I stand, relative to the cosmos. I need to know how long ago it was that I came into being. What other events took place during that measured moment. Who dropped what on whom, what blaze ravaged which town, what devastating earthquake changed a section on the face of the earth I inhabit, what celestial eclipse took place during this time. I want to understand that when I was 5 measured years, W.W.II was just about to end. I like knowing that it was the same summer I came out of an orphanage. When I turned eight, they invented the transistor. Knowing that, I can deduce how long it would be before I'd enjoy the fruits of the transitored dream machines, our computers. It took a long 48 years before I could experience electronic magic at my service, at the tip and tap of my fingers. To abruptly change the subject, I would like to do something different. I have been writing in real-time, in sequential time, from the very beginning of my story. I'd like to dip into my past writings and insert two "Incidents", as I call them. Some of you have already read them, but most of you haven't, I know, for I only shared these with a handful of friends on the Internet. I'd like to have them here to help explain my nature: How I responded when confronted with a situation from out of the blue. Life is so good about that. Without surprises, good or bad, life would lose some of its' charm. That's why I avoid fortune tellers. Not because I don't believe in their gifts of soothsaying, but because I want all my surprises, to remain truly surprises. Life would be boring otherwise. Take for example my first incident, which I remember as "The hitch-hike". The other incident took place on a late night "Greyhound bus ride". -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- "The Hitch Hike" One night in Los Angeles, I was heading back home to Santa Monica and it was late. The buses had stopped running, so I was forced to walk and try to hitch a ride. I did manage to get a lift. An elderly couple picked me up. My guess was that they were past 50 years of age. I was at the time about 25 or 26. They were both quiet and I sensed somehow a bit of gloom. My senses just picked it up. I asked if there was something wrong, and to their surprise that I sensed something, they opened up and told me a sad story. They were driving around that night, more or less drifting, like two lost souls in the night. I don't remember who started to relate that they received a telegram, earlier in the day, informing them that their only child, their son, was killed in action in Viet Nam. I was speechless. I felt so sorry for them, and I still do to this day. I doubt if they are still living today. But if their souls are still drifting, I'd sure like them to know that I haven't forgotten the night when I sat in the back seat of their car and listened to their story. -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- "The Ride Back Home" I took a Greyhound Bus up to Northern California, thinking that I would like to take some pictures of the tall Redwood Forest; The giant Sequoias. I stayed a while to photograph some of the trees and surrounding area, being careful not to drift too far from the roads. The first leg of this journey was Santa Monica to San Francisco. When I was in Frisco, I bought a round trip ticket to the Redwood area. When I got back to San Francisco, I was hungry so I ate something in a restaurant. After I finished eating I completely forgot about the return ticket fee which I would need for the return to Santa Monica. To my shock I saw that I only had enough for a ticket, just a little more than a third of the distance! The bus was soon to depart and I had to make a decision quick. I purchased a ticket to San Luis Obispo. I get on the bus. When San Luis Obispo is the next stop, I'm glued to my seat, faking a sleep. The bus driver does the count, counting heads as he walks up and down the isle. He pauses a few seconds, as if in afterthought. I'm watching the scene through a squinting eye. He returns to the driver's seat, and off we go. The next stop, the same procedure. I'm still awake, nervous, feeling the horror of being discovered and being asked to leave the bus in the middle of the night. There must have been at least 5 more stops before reaching Santa Monica. It was about 4 in the morning, the city was asleep, but I was wide awake, so glad to "come home". Such a relief that I didn't have to spend the night in some jail for loitering. I thanked the bus driver as pleasantly as I could, but I don't think he realized that I was thanking him VERY much. Such a moment in life when I feel so proud to be a citizen of a country that believes in the term, "the exception to the rule". I think the bus driver understood that someone was "free riding", and possibly understood that it was a person desperate to get somewhere. The bus driver had the heart, and the wisdom, to help. He probably understood that being stuck in "no-mans-land" in the middle of the night, is no fun at all. This is one of the many reasons why I "give my art to the world". I have so much to be grateful for. So many have helped me, directly and indirectly, that I feel honored to have the opportunity to show my thanks by giving back, the best that I can do.

27. Sometimes I wonder, what am I doing? Why am I writing these words? This business of opening up my heart, telling the story of my life, serves no real purpose. The world and my private life has not improved since I started this endeavor. My son Mario, who more or less, promised to keep in touch with me, if I refrained from contacting him, has conceded to the wishes of his mentally twisted and mean mother. He is such a coward when it comes to doing what is right. He is so afraid of his mother, he doesn't dare go against her sick and selfish behavior. He will soon be 22 and she still controls him with her demented hatred. She has succeeded in poisoning my biological rights to father my only offspring. And the Fascist State of Sweden stands behind her, not making any effort to undue the wrong she has done. I am drowning in my bitterness. Most of my friends, family and acquaintances are all enjoying their lives as parents. I can't even dream of seeing my son getting married to a chosen sweetheart. If he has any children, I rightfully should be crowned the grandfather of his children. But no, that won't be happening. Such eventual thrills have been locked away from me by the ugly actions of one single human being. That is a crime. Before my words turn into verbal bile, I'd rather end this story. I have nothing more to say. enough said, Carl Toothman February 29, 2000 Halmstad, Sweden
Run Away World of Japan

Carl Toothman
Halmstad, Sweden
April 7, 1999

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