Sleepy Thief

Here I will right a first hand accounting of a boy who accidently stumbles into the long lost hidden treasure before finding the treasure map.

Morning: I am eating breakfast. The box of Corn Pop's cereal boldly claims that the included morsels have a "BIG YELLOW TASTE." Perhaps this is the way yellow tastes, I think I cannot taste yellow unless I have synesthesia - but I understand. YELLOW itself is just a label, however the feeling I get is in agreement so it works.
Afternoon: We are all driving in a car east, I am getting dizzy watching the opening and closing of field/sky/tree. My mom says one of her friends has been feeling "A BIT BLUE." Sometimes when I feel sad I am not color blue but I feel deep color blue - I understand.
Night: Driving home I am looking up at the night sky. It is BLACK.

Concept: If I can successfully induce synesthesia it could be a super hero calling or famed eccentric detective. See if I can bundle all senses into a singular sense of understanding. Perhaps make abstract concepts easier to work with.

Today I was in my room reading a book. My sister called me into her room saying "Matthew, look hurry." I go up and waited for the daze of blood rushing to my head to wear off, then zombie shuffled to her room. She was lying down in her bed watching an episode of Barney played out in pure static. Specks of black and white flickered across the screen but no figures could be seen but we knew it was Barney. The reception was poor. We listened to the sound of the voices and we laughed.

When I was a little child I would often spend the day with my mother.
Dad was off at work and we used to sit upstairs and eat warm tapioca pudding with rubber spoons and watch Bob Ross paint away a million trees on the television.
Sometimes it would occur to me that I needed something downstairs, but I was too afraid to go alone. So my mom would say, "I will sing you a song as you go." The sound of her sweet voice permeated the walls as my little feet made haste down the stairs, even skipping whole steps. (This scene if reminiscent of a recurring dream I had as a little kid of flying down the steps but being unable to reach them when I wanted to - floating.) Granted I still sprinted for my life, afraid of of every speck of shadow, but such a simple song gave little me much courage. Sometimes I think she would even stop, or rather I would stop being able to actually hear it (due to distance and volume) while she continued to sing. Nonetheless the song lingered on inside my head.
Imagined sound seems to still exist within me. Given a sound that continues to occur I tend to to continue to believe it is playing even if it is long gone. I kind of latch onto it and it gets stuck into my memory register. For example if I am hearing a repeated pulse or drone in the distance and it stops I might continue to believe it was playing. Perhaps it's just the songs willingness to sing, or my willingness to hear.
Another sound related thought revolves around sleep. When I was younger I would often awake to a dull ringing. The more I focused on it the louder it became. I would often find myself moving my body under my blankets in the middle of the night or rubbing my hands against the pillow in an attempt to stop focusing on the sound and get back to bed. The thing with the sound was that it never decreased in volume until I forgot about it. My stream of thoughts would make it get louder and louder to the point where I could think it no louder, but it continued to grow unbearably so. Focusing in on it did not give it any shape or meaning, only intensifying the noise. I was uncertain as to whether the sound emanated from some external source or was just something inside me like electrical residue from my dreams in my brain. It always did sound electrical in nature, like the strange sound occasionally found from an old television.

All of my senses take time to feel. I am reacting to something that already happened while the new event keeps happening. When I process a visual image in my mind through my eyes, it takes time to compute it. Thus every single moment I experience is inherently delayed from the source moment. I am living in the present, experiencing the past or perhaps living entirely in the past. There is a delay in everything, I am not sure if I can feel that impulse or something happening as it is happening, only residual waves of what was. Like stars that burst in deep dark space and we still see their light for ages only delayed. I want to be in the heart of that burst sometimes!

If I travel on a distant satellite far, far away and look back on the earth with such astonishing resolution and detail - will I see dinosaurs in the light? If I cannot travel at the speed of light to reach these impossibly distant sights then if I listen ever so closely and intercept and translate old and minute earth sounds can I hear their roars as their tear through the underbrush of a the pre-historic jungle? Do their roars still vibrate through me right now as I speak, vibrate through this very planet very softly like a slight tremor many miles from the epicenter of a quake or quivering lips about to touch.
fun: Using these distant tremors to aid in thought or harmony or emotion of music. Harvesting the distant tremors and resonances of ancient screams of volcano explosions of Pompeii or slaves collecting bees making honey or of faded tan drums pounding away during a Mayan sacrifice to aid in the richness of my simple songs.
fun: Perhaps part of why practice makes perfect with instrument learning and song, the collective result of all of my learning and great/terrible songs, tested and failed experiences returning to their source instrument and bolstering and strengthening it to my current state. Like an aura. It makes me what I am today, these foolish things reflecting on me.
Can I travel long and far and fast to see myself writing his message as I write it right now? If the second I publish this I run up - perhaps. Space is closer than Australia, just going up takes more effort. fun: Mammoth pogo sticks.

When I take pictures with my camera am I in every single photo I create? Can you see me reflecting off the eyes of my subjects, and even the waxy leaves, the bark of trees, the sturdy table or birds nest they will become years later. Can I tell if the photographer said "Smile!" by the blades of grass bending ever so slightly in the wind spurred on by the gusts escaping their mouth?

One of the greatest joys of my life is the fact that animals besides humans are incapable of understanding the art of acting and some of the other facets of society that we have constructed. I love to see the aloof dog in the scene, completely oblivious to the fact that they are "supposed" to act a certain way while in it's eyes you can see it wants to play and is and aware of the cameras around it. The same thing goes for how unabashed animals are in mating.
The miserable television show "Man Vs. Beast" brings back some of my fondest memories of human and animal interaction. The premise of the show was to present certain challenges to humans in the peak of their human ability that dealt with usually oblivious animal competitors.
The main highlight of this competition for me was how much the humans cared and how most of the animals did not give a shit and still won. Here is one example from the show showcasing a human track runner facing a giraffe and a zebra. The highlight in this one is the strain in the human face and the localized seizure the disoriented giraffe experiences in the middle of his stride. It's hilarious - the animals have absolutely no clue what is going on. Here is a definate favovrite. The famed Kobayashi up against a Kodiak Bear in a food competition. Kobayashi is shoving his mouth full of hotdogs using his defined technique all the while the bear glances around and occasionaly swipes a handfull of hotdogs and stuffs them down with no effort. Classic.
Here is another classic.
In the following days I would like you to be aware of animals as you watch television or movies. On a semi-related note I would like you to tune into animal planet each superbowl for the famed "Doggy Bowl" to see dogs imposed into human settings. What you have in store for yourself is one of the most bizarre segments of television you will ever encounter.

I am always willing to reward the risk taker ant. I will generally smash the black one carrying a fallen comrade back to be consumed, or the pest I can just barely feel tickling on my skin. Sometimes, however, I will find an ant riding my drapes as they blow in the breeze, hanging tight with all of his might. Not only would I feel guilty for slaying the fellow (Imagine surmounting Everest after weeks of arduous travel only to be swatted by the hand of Zeus) but they embody a spirit that I applaud. Be it a journey of hunger, conquest, merriment, straight up confusion, being lost, or whatever I think it is a cool idea. These ants are the Lewis and Clark of the insect world - please do not kill them.

I will just follow some thoughts out and draw some connections and branches.
What if U.F.O.'s are in fact time machines from the future. Humans from the future visiting to say "hello" and to observe. Many alien descriptions point to a highly advanced and evolved humanoid shape. I really enjoy listening to retro sci-fi themes.
I think that design can reflect the enviornment, which presumes that the common alien shape developed in a similar (if not more futuristic) setting. I find it interesting that someone might find an anime human attractive in the context of their drawn world, however if they were superimposed into reality they would find their features, such as the eyes, grossly out of proportion and disturbing.
I fear the existance of humongous world crushing beings, simply walking through the universe and destroying my planet like my hand waving through dust in the sunlight (It is incredibly difficult to catch dust in the sun, you need to let the dust find your hand, any quick movement to catch it will send it spiraling away out of your grasp because it is so miniscule and transient. This relationship is kind of similar to outrunning your shadow, your reflection in the mirror, and certain types of falling love) .
If one of these walking giants took out the earth on it's stroll what would happen to our ghosts? With earth destroyed would we just be all floating in space haunting the same space that once was? I do not fully believe in ghosts. I think the possibilty of finding like-sized humanoids within the entire scope of the universe would be true but unlikely. Imagine a space ship landing on a distant planet and failing to realize the lilliputian civilization at their feet while mistakingly looking for a handshake that will fit.
Lately I have been thinking frequently of black holes and they still scare me a lot.

Wind blown skywriting font.
Nearest monkey bar locator GPS app.
Implications of odd/even number of human in existance on concept of soulmates.
I don't know how to get to many places but I know that anywhere takes me everywhere.
IF EVERYONE ON EARTH MOUNTED ELEPHANTS AND DID FLIPS YOU COULDN'T SEE IT FROM SPACE- CONCLUSION SPACE IS BORING. (I really just make fun of it because it scares me immensely.)
Results of other animal species attaining interspecies communication before humans (the birds and the whales will gang up on us.)
The (But) Simon Said So Massacres.
Honey jar of butterfly ashes.

IT'S ME AND I AM IN LOVE WITH EVERY LITTLE PLACE OF YOU.
thanks!

The sign at the fair said "See the largest Ox."
I had one dollar to spare. It was stuffed in my pocket, curled and ruined. Probably the result of some frivolous waste I had purchased earlier. I was led to the isolated back of the fair, down some hay littered ground to a small plastic tent being guarded by just some teen. You could hear the bustle and reflection of the fair but it seemed remote now as few were around. I forked over my dollar and carefully stepped into the tent before me.
You go inside this place, it is dark and you can hear deep and long breathing. It was tired. Then our eyes met in the dark. These black, black eyes with white halos fucking shimmering. Standing before me is this great beast. Confronted by this definitive greatness. Here is something inches from my face that could absolutely destroy me right where I stand. Crushed deep into the earth, sinking so deep and impaled. Right now with all I have to do, just me idiot boy and Ox.
& Awe.
The creature was obviously heavily sedated and emanated such a sadness, like some sort of fallen hero (Sleepy proud dragon is slain, gold treasure keeping failed, prince wins the hand of her.) I think he was just remembering and thinking. I was unsure what to do, so I did nothing (as usual.) I just watched him lower his head in dark, chew upon hay, great horns lowered. Now I think of you, where ever you may roam.
What kind of reward for greatness is this?

Imagine the first whistler's delight.
This is how I feel today.