"I came to get down"

Meeeeeee tooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! It's like they're reading my mind. A while ago I became convinced that I was always being video taped and watched. Because every book they write is about me, every song they sing too, and every piece of art is about me too, except the ones in Chelsea which, actually, I can't comprehend or begin to fathom. I don't think they're about anyone, but maybe someone's ego. Either way, I can't concern myself with that because my life raft is too small and the cameras on me all the time consume me with my own ego. I do things to entertain the cameras because I know one thing: if I'm a show, I better have good ratings.

I didn't know how to deal with all that pressure, the cameras, the boom in the frame, the ratings, the fact that the whole world centers around everything I do, and all the books written since my show first aired on April 2, 1976 at 11:15pm, or maybe a little earlier, mom said the doctor had to leave the Elks club, but he was a drunk, so it could have been earlier or later, and all the songs made have been made about me. It was a lot to take until Jim Henson began directing my dreams. Henson knows something and he and Charlotte Salomon and Shakespeare have been talking about things and comparing notes. They talk about life being theater, and Jim was nice enough to let me in on it.

He made these huge bees, bees made of old shag carpet, because that must be all they have in heaven for crafting, because truth be told, it wasn't very well made. Henson's bastard bee sons were following--no chasing-- me on these fishing line strings, jumping and bouncing at me in impossible ways. I ran really slow so they'd be able to keep up and I grimmaced quite a lot, and it helped that the crew was so fucking incompetent that the boom, I could tell, was in the frame. So I grimmaced at the boom holder and made those movements with my eyes like "get the boom out of the frame" and he didn't catch on.

I got to an Olympic sized public-style pool in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere and jumped in to save myself, knowing it was all a joke -- this film crew, these bees, this fear, looking through chlorinated water at how things are so different from here, so much better in the bright blue womb, where it's quiet and we know things.