So I learned I’m still stuck in my own head. I’ve always been stuck in my own head, except for a few hours of escape I achieved via sex or hallucinogens.
The pilot house of this vehicle, if you could call me that, is my upper palate. You can sit right on down there
In the captain’s chair, and take me for a spin. Look through my eyes – they’re a split windshield.
My septum is the dash board. It has leopard skin on it. Feel free to put your feet up. You can take me off road if you want.

When I was about ten years old I spent a lot of time alone, walking and hiking on my own adventures. I can often remember this feeling of a benevolent stranger sitting behind the windshield of my eyes, maneuvering the vessel.
He was a little man about 1” tall. He had the physical attitude of a super-keen 1950s gas station attendant.

I was always fascinated by mechanized creatures such as the Imperial walkers from Empire Strikes Back. Walkers were these big slow-moving metallic beasts of four legs, with long-barreled laser cannon on the sides of their head. Their drivers and gunners were inperial soldiers who sat behind armor plating in the walker’s head as it swung from side to side blowing the shit out of everything. I thought those things were bitchin’. I liked them so much I was probably a little self-conscious to even discuss it. That is how powerful I felt about manned animal-like machines.
How weird is that? It makes me think there’s something more to it than simple little boy truck fascination. There’s something funny and a little strange I recall from that age between nine and 12. Not to suggest that any age is more normal than another - but i seem to remember something unique about 10 years of age. It could be something to do with the development of consciousness. Maybe not the setting up of it, but the curing – where things really get hard, like Portland cement.

But what is it about trhe idea of sitting behind the controls of another creature that seems so far away from the adult thoughts people take on.It seems like a vestige of early consciousness from the hidden archives of inheirited memory. WhateverI gotta go to bed.
goodnight imperial walkers
Don't jump up and sleep on the couch