When I think of the name Tim I envision this kind of
caterpillar-version of myself. The potential makings of my future self were
there, and who I would become had its kernels forsure. But, the emergence of ‘Chess’
the Cheshirekat this was primitive and unrefined. And how and why that word and
not another I don’t rightly know-
the sound of it I guess, the crisp hissing of certain language has attracted me
to words. And at a young age, I must have been playing basketball with a
neighbor at about the age of 10 the first time I vocalized this concept. In truth
I had envisioned this as early as I can remember, as if the question were “how
long have you been an artist?” and the answer is; always.
I have always felt distant from the name Tim. It is not my
name. It is a name my father gave me.
It is the dream of a man that is not to become.
When I say “Cheshirekat” I feel at home in myself.
When my friends call me Chesh I feel connected, understood,
and loved.
The love, the love is why I do this. Because I am addicted
to it, like all humans, I am addicted to it and I cannot relinquish it. It is
the drug that keeps us playing. And it is the ache for which we gauge our
lives.
And we heal it. And we heal from it.
It helps us carry ourselves. As it is inherently ours.
And Chess is inherently me.
While it has been a long time coming, for the first time I have
to ask myself; “what does this really mean? Who am I even?
And for the first time I have an answer: I am addicted to
the becoming.
My left hand could slap Nietzsche to death I am so übermensch.
The becoming, like a sweet seduction that coils around my
wrists and pulls me to the earth. With the march of time, the more orgasms I experience,
the more dancing I have, the more experiences I experience. And forsure, this
is coupled with rage, this is coupled with the chains of being human, this is
the fiery dance that is the human experience. And we are awoken in the flames.
I dream of something so different than this.
And yet this is all that I know. This world of constant
change.
I legitimately experienced the entirety of my childhood environment
become tract homes. In our modern way shit changes quickly. And so we adapt,
rapidly. I am of these future generations that will constantly be forced to
adapt rapidly. This too, I see as becoming.
As we are to become and become, like these tor versions of
ourselves, radiations of mental encryption. That only become known through
manifestation and we bring them to life. We bring our actions into existence
and so shape our own futures as we are the gods of our own actions. And I believe
that this stems from a bit of the void. We are the dark energy we seek.
Why is the universe expanding? Because we’re fucking looking
at it.
And I am certain we’ll meet aliens. We will become and
become until they wish to know us openly. Which might be tomorrow or might be
never in our existence. And with this caveat I think it is important to
reevaluate who we are as a species.
I think the native Americans
have it right: we need to fall back in love with our planet. And it doesn’t mean
that California rests on the backs of turtles and this explains the plate tectonics
of the San Andreas fault, but it does wonders for understanding the importance
of the layers of gasses that sit upon one another, forming a bubble around the
rock in space we live on. And inside that bubble we exist in our entirety.
I think that we need
to Native-Americanize our thoughts with our place on the planet. I think that
the secret will lie in the meshing of our technology to our nature. We need to
learn to wield our technology like etherium before we can ascend into the ranks
of our own species. And assure that the future of our technology is centered
around concepts of creation. Quite literally, we would have to become it.
I have my doubts on that.
I imagine that millions will die. They will learn the true
state of nature and they will die.
In the way that I wonder if I could strangle a person if I had
to; so too, I wonder what I would do to survive. But this remains a fleeting
thought and I enjoy dancing in the setting sun far more than I care about angry
people and their machines.
In a sense, I am too busy being cool to give a fuck about
tyrants.
But then the question also emerges: am I too busy to help
the less fortunate?
And I find that the answer is yes as well.
Once while walking on the beach,
I saw a baby pelican fledgling. It was alone and malnourished, its eyes had
some kind of cataract-gaze. It was stumbling where it stood and it was
surrounded by a group of seagulls that were aware that it was not long for the
world. They were diving in and taking shots at the ostensibly blind bird and it
was to play out in its entirety hours later when I walked by again, and the
young pelican was still alive. Bleeding more now, no longer standing, but still
alive as the seagulls lacked the strength to finish the creature.
There was nothing I was willing to
do to save the bird from its fate. And this is true pretty much across the
board, we don’t care about anything that isn’t us. It is the nature of our
nature. Our struggle is so much more real, our pain is the only real pain. And we
cannot care less If it is not our tribe or our family, we care little for the
lives of others. Whatsmore, we can’t even help them. Even if we wanted to how
much blood are we willing to hemorrhage to save our fellow man. How much blood
will we shed to save our planet? How much bloodshed are we willing to spill to
keep our minds closed and our universe simple?
And the answer is: an endless amount.
We are divided upon levels of our own survival, typically centered around
wealth, while the nature of wealth in our world separates us from each other
and ourselves.
The people in Beverly Hills are too
stuck in traffic to give a fuck about the hopeless homelessness on skid row.
They will pave half a street, I have
seen it.
As if to put one psychological wall
up against LA county, like a constant reminder, “you are not us.”
And I will say it this way: I do
not wish to become that.
As, what I am becoming is something
quite different. And I am forced to ask myself, “what exactly is that?” and the
answer that I have, is that I have to do
it. Someone has to be it; and that someone is me. Only you can be yourself. And
I am becoming committed to the idea of who I am to become.
It is your destiny to discover who
you are to become. Not all will share this destiny with you and you must find
it in yourself first. But the truly awoken will make the journey. They will
carry the burden. And they are the future of our world as there are thousands
of species of orchids and they will cross-pollinate quite readily if given the
chance. We are the emergent orchids of our world.
In
college, I managed Raymond Burr’s orchid collection. My greenhouse had a
variety of species that would commonly cross-pollinate each other. What’s more
they were said to be of a separate genus Layleia is different than Cattleya is
different than Brassia. But if left in close contact with each other they had
no problem getting busy with one another, especially if I were the one
pollinating them. So it made me realize that the only thing that separates
these species is the denomination we put on them. WE make them a different
species, nature simply separated them.
We are
this emergence. We make ourselves separate by believing it. We are like or
unlike something simply by believing it. And people lie to themselves every
day, all day in attempts to be more like some kind of idea that they have.
And who’s to stop them? Nobody.
Quite literally, without police or
a judicial system I would end certain existences.
Because I am a certain kind of
primate that is becoming.
