Myselves 1

1.

“When I talk to myselves,” began Jimmy (or whomever he might have been at the moment), “I ask myself three questions: Is this idea actually any good?; Am I the first dude to have the idea? And if not, is someone else with way more resources and money already working on the idea? If so, great, let him do it. I don't need to do it.” That night (July 3rd 2014), Jimmy claimed that maybe creation isn't all it is cracked up to be. I think he used the expression, “the bee's knees”, which is an expression I really like. But the idea of “myselves” is pretty interesting and got me thinking just now, which is the 4^th of July, the day after the above commentary by Jimmy.

Today I am thinking, there are many Joaos.  There is Joao the Man: Joao The Man is a Joao who walks around thinking he is The Man and sometimes feels like he is The Man and even tells himself sometimes, usually in his head, in private, in a whisper, “you're The Man”. Then there is Joao the Humble. Joao the Humble is a Saint type character designed, most likely, to temper Joao the Great or Joao the Man (he has more than one name for himself, come to think of it). Joao The Humble is pious and religious and makes Joao the Flesh pray before lunch and dinner and makes him really think twice before repeating mistakes. Joao the Humble does not always win and is super understanding. There is Joao The Rebel and Joao the Sharp. Joao the Rebel has a disdain for Life and an often uninformed criticism of Reality and/or The System. He is always kind of like, “Fuck this Shit", whatever or whomever it may be. Then Joao The Humble comes by and talks to him. Sometimes this talk takes days. And Joao The Flesh walks around pensive and people call him moody and then Joao The Sensitive appears:  he usually hides in the darkness of my mind because the brightness of the Realm of Living Energy just makes that motherfucker crazy...Joao The Sensitive can't handle shit, but he is pretty good at certain stuff...like being sensitive. And expressing that sensitivity. Joao The Sensitive has a vivid imagination and kind of can't distinguish between what he feels and what is quote unquote “real”. He sort of lives in a place with no lines, no boundaries, where all is One and Chaos is the true reality and living is simply making sense of all of that chaos and building a little sand castle to pass the time, until high tide, until bed time.