Random Beliefs by I Can't Tell Time When I'm Monte

CHAPTER ONE

Monte #1,545,153,656 isn’t about time. The framework for its operation isn’t about space – or even the perception about time and space. It’s more than that - it is absolutely less than that. Some would say it is a “spark of the alien divine.” The men and women able to articulate those vibrations are outcasts, living in caves (probably) or low-income housing (more than likely). Taking objects within reach and instilling them with magical properties through an organized set of desired letters, cadences, and appropriate punctuation (The Judge is watching, of course).

To be clear, the mission can’t be defined in terms of academia. Nor can it be summarized and glamorized 30 years later by bringing back a maverick Monte, fighter of good and evil. Monte #1,454,153,656 is air in motion, a vital heat through the ether, through space and time that is undefined, unincorporated, and uninitiated. Come on, nothing is real. You know that right? That’s what makes the struggle (the fight) so difficult. That’s why we consume. Fill the void. Doodle on your notepad, wear your t-shirt of a band only a few people have heard, or sneak out of the office a few minutes early. It helps to resolve the tension temporarily, but it does not complete the mission.

The messages received are not for this time, nor are they for any time. They are for those who see the swirling colors of light in their morning coffee or after they stub their toe on that damn uneven sidewalk during their 30 minutes of cardio three times a week in hopes of thwarting off Dementia (doctor’s orders). There will never be answers. Just signs and sigils of a vague direction. Leave the rest to Monte #1,545,153,656 to resolve.

Only for the biggest of headphones, the haziest of nights, the heaviest of lids, the chillest of chills. Get your nod on.