D>Pollock's "last day on a deserted island ". also "The Now Life" and/or euphoric recall

              How thirsty I was on the third day. I washed up on the shore,  I squeezed the seawater out of my salted flannel. Much to warm a cloth for the climate. I chewed on jellyfish when I was famished. They had the consistency of six-pack rings. How I desired a comb, to push back my crusted hair. (in the crustacean period, I was a land amphibian). I shall dehydrate on to my deathbed. I wanted to strangle "Sting", for writing that stupid Police song, "Message in a bottle", the only agony he probably ever had to endure was another "happy ending", at an Asian Massage parlor.
             How did I end up here? And what would become of me? How I longed for anything that may have presented itself as "dismal" in the populated world. I craved sidewalks, desired dentists, and yearned for one - legged prostitutes. When the evening approached the temperature cooled about fifteen degrees, and I was able to poison my digestive system with inedible berries. They held my appetite over until I spewed them out over the rocky cliff.
             Then, just like in the movies and television shows, I began vividly hallucinating. Talking to myself and even smelling old familiar scents. Like mom's homemade apple pie,  dad's hippie nagchampa , or sister's sweaty vagina. Then I thought to myself, "I can't just sit here and quickly bake to death, I must do something!"
 So I decided to use all my resources to form a monumental "HELP", that could be read by a plane or a helicopter. But no one would find me and I would die. THE END
              Isn't it funny how when the seasons change we become overwhelmed with nostalgic vibrations. Almost euphoric recall.  Something overcomes my senses. I feel as if I have become born-again for a couple of days. Trees and flowers blossom to the first thriving of the year. Cycles and depth to the shades of green cypresses. True I pranced up and down these southern fields of barley. I was once young, dumb and naive to the vices of man. I chose not to acknowledge the injustices of society in my adolescent years, I looked the other way while peers of mine became meter- people, lawyers, and real-estate secretaries.  I chose psychedelic drugs over college, and if I could go back I wouldn't change a damn thing. For I value my present perspective and interpretations, no matter how abstract or obtuse they may seem. Life to me isn't something that happened over the past thirty years, nor is it whats going to happen over the next ten years, it is simply something that is happening now.