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As the gap from being present fades, the realization is that my autumn days are here

It is not temporary, it will progress like a malignant tumor bringing about bewilderment

The anatomy of self becomes less reliant and my stride becomes a shuffle

The indelible art tells my story in ink which is fading into mosaic colors

Memories of wrong doing haunt me. I plead guilty in hope for a light sentence in the afterlife

I’ve become a conscious being aware of the many sentient spirits close at hand…..I miss them as they have transition to the stars

Beyond doubt, the universe makes the rules. I’ve learned to be careful for what I wish for 

The cosmos rules my destiny. I like to think I do but the joke is on me

I still feel compelled to travel with an uncontrollable urge to risk everything….I blame my genetic code with the wanderlust gene of drd4. 

Maybe the transition won’t be so bad after all, I’ll be able to surf the cosmos as I have always told my grandson

Imagine paddling out into the liquid night of space and surfing the rings of Saturn….

This unknown experience grows wildly within my imagination and the freedom it brings to my soul 

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I slid my right boot then my left boot into the hole leading to the tomb’s tunnel. There was the soft, muffed sound of my pants sliding against the rough stone as my feet fell into the tomb. My knees passed and my thighs followed – which was as far as I got. I was stuck between two worlds. My companions started laughing before cheering me on. “Push! Push, Dave”. There was a scraping noise as my 34 waist and belt buckle tried to shimmy. I’ve been told in the past, during romantic endeavors, that I have ‘a booty like a black man’ – something I’ve always thought of as an attractive asset, but which, in this instance, was a real liability. ‘I think I’m too big, guys,’ I told my audience, ‘I’m wedged in!’ as giggles grew louder and escaped from the darkness of the tomb. I too began to chuckle, which was uncomfortable considering the added pressure of stone against my waist.

When I returned to the States and the Tonight Show, I shared my big ass adventure with one of the comedy writers for the show, Larry Jacobson. We both had a good chuckle when Larry added. “You know Dave, if you were Kim Kardashian you’d still be stuck in that tomb.

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“The journey towards success is more like a traveller lost in a desert, desperate to find an oasis, desperate to quench his thirst. 
But it is not about how grave the thirst is but about how long he chooses to walk thirsty.” — Chirag Tulsiani

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My aging process was not gradual or gentle. It rushes up, pushes me over, and then ran off laughing. No one should grow old who isn’t ready to appear ridiculous. I’ve been there, done that, and bought a T-shirt. I’ve never lived a life of quiet desperation. Now I replay all my adventures in my afternoon naps….bonum vitae,

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One of my favorite movies of all times is One Night On Earth. It’s a cinematic dream of just how connected we are as a species and all the synchronicity that life flings at us. The movie is a collection of five stories involving cab drivers in five different cities from around the world. Which is a causal or persuasive link to my nocturnal behavior of getting out of bed, grabbing my camera and climb behind the steering wheel of my KIA and drive. I actually like driving late at night. When I say late, I don’t mean 10 PM, or even midnight – I mean like the witching hours from 2 am to sunrise. There is no other time of day where you can see typically the most congested street completely empty. It’s like being teleported as the last man on earth. A bat maneuvering in the dark, it uses a process called echolocation. Echolocation refers to the process of using echoes and sound waves to navigate around objects. For my excursion into the great Basin of Los Angeles, I too use echolocation in the form of music to tap into the auditory cortex of my brain and beyond to the “seat of the soul” the pineal gland. The music dictates when I should proceed straight ahead or turn left or right. Tonight’s soundtrack is “A Perfect Place” a Morricone-esque soundtrack by Mike Patton. Ready set go!  Among the endless metaphors for life, a road is perhaps one of the best. There’s times for speed, times for caution and times to stop. Ahead, the lights of a psychic storefront beckon me to take time to stop and enjoy the cold Pink’s hotdog I picked up earlier. This is A Perfect Place for my One Night On Earth.