The Substratum Dream of a Flagpole Skater...

I am the flag-pole skater, and I’m pursuing my dream in a small, slow circle.

My dream, born from years of yearning for something different, is to skate.

To skate on a platform.

To skate on a small, circular platform.

To skate in slow circles on a small, circular platform longer than anyone ever has before.

The previous record, set in the winter of 1934 by a bear wearing a fez hat, is well within my reach.

127 hours and 43 minutes of continuous skate.

That was what that big Russian bear wearing his fez hat and his shock collar achieved before he fell.

I can, and will, eclipse that noble bear’s efforts.

Not because I’m forced to do so, not because I’m paid to do so, but because I want to do so.

Because it is my dream.

On my platform, on my pole, high above my house, I push one skate in front of the other, then I repeat.

I have done this now for over 45 minutes.

This leaves me with less than 126 hours left to eclipse the mighty bear’s effort, to accomplish my dream.

I am determined, I am focused, I will accomplish my goal.

People have often responded with curiosity when I tell them of my dream.

What? Why?

This seems to be the broader public hotel community common consensus.

This unenlightened attitude overwhelms the public sphere, yet confuses me horribly in conversation.

To properly stop, to properly think, to properly theorise, it is necessary focus on something thoughtless.

Only when one’s mind is truly distracted can it be truly insightful.

I push one skate in front of the other, and then I repeat.

The only way forward for us, for them, and for you, is to freely do what others have been forced to do.

Only then is it possible to understand, to empathise, and to change.

The philanthropic philosopher funding my mission is the only one who understands.

He bought me my skates, he paid for the platform, and he even stole the pole.

But these objects are truly mine, he says, for this is my mission, my dream, my idea.

We know my noble mission will lead us to enlightenment, to ideas, to empathy, to a new way.

Of this we are both unconditionally sure.

Since that bleary night at the Bear-Flag brothel when I explained to him my mind; we’ve both been sure.

He erected the platform on a pole above his department store, and then bequeathed it to me as my own.

He has given me his store, given me his heart, given me every available opportunity to realise my mind.

I know this will happen; I know this won’t end up being what they claim it will be.

When the 100th hour passes, and it hasn’t yet happened, I know I will worry, he has warned me that I will.
But the nobility of the mission mustn’t be forgotten; for this is a matter of utmost importance.

I look down at the inquisitive crowds of children and animals swarming in and out of the store.

I think of my designated bed in the store windows below longingly, not long now.
Only about 125 hours.

I just wish we had thought of a can or a bucket for a toilet, I really need to piss.