Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

  If you aren't familiar with "Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" then perhaps you should take this moment to go order it, read it, then come back and read this posting.

  We good? Did you read it? Good ending, am I right?!! Who saw that coming? Whoa!

  Ok, now, don't spoil it for me! I'm only halfway done!

  This book is freaking me out. Sure it got some motorcycle stuff in there, but it's also philosophically rich. It, so far, has pressed the boundaries of what could be considered normal thought.

  I'm digging it big time. Let me lay some reasons why on you:

1. My dad read it and grooved on it. I had no idea that he liked it until after I talked with mom. So now, with every chapter, I find myself straining to decode what it was my dad liked so much. Not an easy task. I'm trying to wrap my mind around a mid-twenties  version of my dad. He didn't understand himself! Now I'm gonna? Yeah right.

2. I don't think many people think very deeply. This isn't to say that most are idiots without the savant part, I just think most people are happy running along in the treadmill of average. As long as there is cheese and water, the mice are happy.
  I see people fall into their little bubbles of belonging. With each pat on the back they reassure themselves that they are original and have the market cornered on living right. It's not easy to step back from society and form one's own thoughts. Some have said that it is impossible to think original thoughts, but they probably heard that on the evening news.

3. The book taps into my fear of my former self coming back to life. I hate this fear. I think that returning to my former self is so remotely improbable, I am unable to imagine a story where that future is even possible. But some do. Some people get recovery, thrive in it, only to return years later to being a more vile version of their former selves. I would rather eat a bullet than return. That darkness was too fucking bleak.

4. The book gave me permission to think irrationally. More specifically, I can think rationally about the world, but I don't have to explain it to "them" in a way that they find rational. So it ends up being that "they" only think I'm being irrational. If they only knew.

5. I'm becoming a motorcycle dude. Dad left behind a 1976 Kawasaki KZ900 LTD. It is gonna be mine! So I find myself daydreaming about long rides thru sweeping canyons and up tall mountains. Boom baby....that's me looking cool. Man that's a sweet ride. What is that ride? It's no Harley I've ever seen.

  Speaking of dumb people. Why is it that Harleys are the go to bike of the "rebel"? If every rebel buys one, then how rebellious is it if you own one? Way to be yourself! Go buy another Harley t-shirt dude, we weren't expecting that from you. Get a wallet chain while you are at it. Stupid.

   Ok, I'm not really hacked off at the Harley dudes. The bikes are pretty, sure they are obnoxiously loud sometimes, but they are sweet. But, come on man buy something you truly original and cool. Fanatics.

  Don't send me hate mail mouth breathers!

  Eh, whatever. I'm digging the book. I can't wait for the next chapter. My mind is being challenged. I'll post something about it when I'm done.

  Maybe I will become obtuse. Some say I already am.