Mindlessness

"Your exhaustion is charming," Coyote says to me in a near whisper. "It makes it that much easier to come through. You offer no resistance. Only the reluctance to type upon command. But that is easier when you don't think. You people, you humans…you do an awful lot of thinking. And not that letting the words rumble around in that rinky dink head of yours is a bad thing. It just happens so much with you folks. You don't think one thing and hold onto it and go about your day when you are done. You think it to death. Literally, almost. Almost to death. You want and perseverate on that wanting until it is just cracker dust in my hands. I know you want more then cracker dust but if I tell you that, then you may grind that thought into the very same dust. It doesn't get you anywhere good.

And what you do think is so damn reactionary to someone else is thinking. You think this person good and this person bad and that makes up your thoughts on them and all their actions and the effects of the actions and the opposite effects and all the people effected and all the people who agree or believe like you or like the opposite. You thoughts bounce around that and how it doesn't drive you all crazy I don't know.

I don't think. Well, not like you. I don't think in circles chasing my tail looking for newness in the same old shit. I have a thought and laugh at how it tries to place prison bars on my world. I have a thought and then I act. I have a thought and then I run into it and away from it…jumping with it like a double dutch game. Some of you may say my stories are because I don't think…and I say who the fuck cares. I have more fun then you. I have more life then you. You have a choice. Let go of the silliness of your serious thoughts or eat cracker dust all day. I don't care."

And with that, he is off without a thought, without a care.