Mad Happy

I guess for practical purposes we have to go by a name, so we can function in dialogues.

I go by Rafe. Pronounced Ray'f. Or Rafael. But really, what is this sound that is heard as familiar.

I also respond to the sound of a seagull pecking a mcdonald's paper bag, and I respond to

the primal moan of a man hit in the head by a baseball bat several years ago by his girlfriend.

I really don't have any sense of a particular identity anymore, like a linear person, that was

born and had a childhood, and grew up to this point in time. Perhaps it is madness, to just

be this nameless, identity-less one, but it is beyond madness in truth, for it has no opposite,

this Self that we all in actuality are.