Take a Penny, Leave a Penny
Meandering in a fog now. Don't even remember where I was going, or where I really came from. The satisfaction that comes with blogging is very sterile and inhuman, but it's a stable source,
So far at least. Always there, like a corroded outlet, an escape. Loyal.
I've had a fascination with numbers for the last few years, some would say it's devolved into a pathological obsession, like Mason from Black Ops, but fuck them. They don't know the whole story. Sometimes I lose sight of what's a coincidence, what's a pattern, and what's a connection I'm making because I desperately want there to be.
A few months ago, I was staying in a hotel while trying to find an apartment. I had left my home state for reasons I'm still trying to figure out. I met a man in room 101, strange fellow. Very strange. He was tall, black, homosexual. (as I wrote that, I subconsciously adopted one of his peculiar head-twists, as in I moved my head in the same way he would, while seeing his face flash in my mind's eye at... 12:21, which I will explain later.) He had deep, brown eyes, so much so that they looked completely black, and it difficult to see the surrounding white.
He invited me into his room, and I accepted. He seemed very accommodating and pleasant human being, despite that hint of off-ness. We struck up conversation, and I had told him that I was here for a special purpose, but couldnât say what. It was just something I felt. I explained to him my fascination with numbers, and the man pulls out journals of the stuff. Seeing significance in when someone is âon your mindâ and the time they are on it, referring to them as âself-calculations.â I had seen this type of synchronicity before, but half-heartedly chalked it up to mere coincidence, or delusions of reference.
The fact I had met this man, in this hotel, in this state, during this week, seemed to confirm that there was something to it. (12:33)
We smoked weed and he began to give me a foot massage, which later turned into a full-body (completely platonic) as we watched Pawn Stars. There were correlations in the events on the program to my life that I can never explain without coming off as completely insane, because even I do not know how to explain them to myself, other than things rarely are as they seem. (Thereâs a tiny lizard staring dead at me. Wonder if that means anything.)
In either case, there were other strange events surrounding the happening. The address of his gym was 1221, which is why that had significance. 12 is 21 backwards, and reduce to 3 and 3, 33, my life path in Numerology, like that means a damn thing, the street address of my rehab (also in this state) being 33701, street sign read 33600, and now my landlordâs license plate has 33 on it. Not sure what any of this means, but the fact this shit keeps intersecting my life through gross improbabilities slaps me in the face with the possibility there could be something to it.
Also, the man told me to watch NASCAR. He was a big fan, and would correlate the numbers of the cars with other kinds of kookdom going on his brain. I only watched once because it happened to be on, and curiosity got the best of me. (curiosity? Like what killed the cat, because youâre mummified, motherfucker?) Other stuff, I can see how it could appear insane from the outside looking in with ease. Either way, the first and only time I watched it, the two cars in the lead were 11 and 22, racing neck and neck. Hmm, weird. Turns out they both crash into each other and car 7 wins. I wish I could remember the time it happened.
I donât know why I post this, at all. I barely understand why I do anything anymore. These types of events intersect my life all the time, so much so that I canât call them a product of mere confirmation/observation bias or delusions anymore. Do I believe there is some hidden, transcendental netherworld of consciousness that many people are simply unaware of because theyâre too busy to notice it? Or, if they notice it, destroy it with skepticism? Hard to say. Iâm all for skepticism, but what Iâve said here is truthful, to me. Whether it is real or not is an entirely different matter.