Trevor Blake: Nine Plus Nine
Nine years ago I made a post on the internet. Here’s what it said…
Oblivio writes: “I once rode a bus into the Berkeley Hills, to the state park up there, while tripping, mildly, on mushrooms. It was a resplendent day, a day much this one, and I was the only passenger on board. I had my journal open on my lap and was filling it with statements on the subject on lostness, the sort of things I always think when I’m tripping — “you can only be lost when you wish to be elsewhere,” “to be lost is to lack a story for where you are,” etc. — when I struck on the idea of addressing my future self, the one who would return to these words one day, looking for wisdom. It has now been nine years. This is what I wrote, using giant, child-like letters:
“HELLO, MICHAEL-READING-THIS-IN-THE-FUTURE. WHY DON’T YOU GO OUTSIDE AND LOOK AT THINGS FOR A CHANGE? YOU HAVE AN INTERESTING MIND BUT WHERE DOES IT GET YOU?”
Well?
