I
was back to st. Louis from my first semester at mizzou como missouri. It was uncanny. I was alone thrift store shopping down on forest park expressway. At the vincent depaul across the street from the goodwill. They had lots of furniture the records were in the back. I was on my way out disappointed about missing stacie. Static stacie or nikki nicole sophmore honeys that both knew that i wanted to be more than friends with. I was walking out and then something floored me. Later i would realize that i was having a very much phillip k, dick moment. What i saw was a lamp. A lamp that had an illustration of a seaside sailboat with pine trees. Wind in the sails seven pines. This lamp also had the illustration that i had sharpied upon it fifteen years earlier. I as a five year old had penned in a bulbous plane, a bomber unleashing its explosive payload dropping from the jet frozen in mid air never to reach it coastline objective. Talk about frozen i stood there in some time travelled shock. It wasnt as good of illustration as i remembered it bit nonetheless a stark statement from an obvious very young person. I should of examined it closer bit i was overcome with a feeling of paranoia, a cosmic joke and the joke was upon me. Feeling survielled and observed had become more and more a stressor upon my world view which within a year and half later would supernova from participating in the metafiction of william s, burroughs, borges, thomas pynchon, and phillip k. Dick. A page in Valis contined only my nickname the boys in the band called Exit had given me, swill. It was confimation of metafiction. 1992 had intersected for me with 1977 specific ticket that exploded waltzing mathilda kyrios. Space time had stopped its terminal rules and presented itself as malleable. 
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