To tell you the truth, I was born in the entirely wrong era.

I am centuries premature.

My mind was intended to partake of the technological wonders of the future...

... where every man is a god...

... machines can adore you...

... and telepathy has been mastered.

Lo and behold, my soul slipped through a hole in cross-transit through adjacent planes in the omniverse in AD 1985, and I came to be.

While I'm waiting for cranial microchips that project visual transmissions confined entirely within our minds to be invented and teleportation to be realized, I peruse the stars in search of the gifts from above that always have and always will transcend every milestone of modern man's hegemony over the earth:

Art. Music. Science. Mathematics. Love. Spirituality. God (whatever It is). Philosophy. The abstract reality underneath and up above us.

It's all color in my head. Maybe that's what I'm doing here...

I like to think that God shines in aqua... and Heaven is full of purple cushions.

A magenta scepter and a well-coordinated blue three-piece should be the standard attire.

While on Earth, I intend to remain a straightforward enigma, a porous but flowing vessel, and a mortal that refuses to die.

'Til I'm convinced that what lies beyond will produce more beautiful colors than the ones I dream up, I'm hanging on and holding out.

A question for you to poinder:

Why does everybody think being brilliant is hard?

My three-step plan to awesome:

1. Lock and load.

2. Cock and blow.

3. Rock and roll.

We should make out.