I have a philosophy on life: Don’t stress, man. Just kidding. That’s not it. I’m not a goddamn hippie. I actually don’t have a philosophy on life, but I really feel like I could use one. Philosophies usually come in handy, especially when you’re drunk so you have some sort of catch phrase to revert to that doesn’t require thinking. “Hey man, just don’t get caught in the tuna net of technology”, something that SORT OF sounds like it might make sense but really makes no sense at all.
I go through every day, and at the end of every day remark on how quickly the day has passed, and what little I have accomplished. This days turn into weeks, fortnights, etc etc, until one day it’s your 29th birthday and you wish you were six again so you could have your birthday at McDonald’s. Just think if you could do it all over again! Would you do it all over again? I don’t think I would, because to do it all over with my current brain would piss me off because I would realize how stupid my friends were when I was younger, and to do it with the same brain as before but just be cognizant of the fact that I was living my life over again wouldn’t really lead to anything. I would probably still be arrested when I’m 17 for having my pants down at the football game, and I would probably still get tendinitis when I’m 23.
But what am I talking about, this is nonsense. Let’s talk about Clipperton Island. In the Pacific Ocean, about due south of Baja California and due West of Colombia, there is an island called Clipperton island. Made up of a beach and some reef, a lagoon and some shrubs, this island is completely deserted. I don’t even know if it has palm trees. Some sort of pirate supposedly used to use it for his hideout, but other than that it hasn’t seen much activity.
Does anyone want to go there with me? We’ll form a colony. Don’t worry, it won’t be like Lost. I may be like a Jack a bit, i.e. be respected and followed and have a passionate love affair with a girl resembling Evangeline Lily, but other than that it won’t be like Lost at all. We’ll fish for food, procure water using a desalinization system fashioned from palm bark and strips of white cotton t-shirts, and in the evening we’ll sit around a fire and throw rocks at hermit crabs and periodically scream as loud as we can. There will be no rules.
We’ll tell stories and create our own oral history. We’ll have babies and raise them to be tremendous fisher people and surfers. We’ll go back to the mainland every five years and quickly realize we hate the mainland and want to get back to our island oasis. On some days the sunset will be so beautiful that we’ll stop whatever we’re doing — giving our kids noogies or throwing rocks at hermit crabs — just to stare at the popcorn-like pinkish clouds on the horizon.
We won’t look back. We’ll be free!