Oh, Great

I'm packing up the last of my microphones when the hippie kid asks me a question- it's one I hear a lot.

"So, how'd you learn how to do that?"

"Oh, you know, mostly from playing in bands and just experimenting- I took some classes, but that was in the 80's- a lot of the tech has changed since then..."

"No, not how'd you learn to record- how'd you learn to turn off your aura?"
His girlfriend moves close to him, clutching his arm and looking at me.
Waiting for my answer.

I don't even come close to understanding the question.

"My aura? I guess I just unplug it."

"Even an unplugged guitar produces sound."

I wait for him to add "Grasshopper" to the end of that observation.
He doesn't, so I don't punch him in his hairy face. I wind a cable around my arm and loop the ends together. This is a good cable, I think. If I ever decide to hang myself it will certainly be with a microphone cable.

Any cable that is good for hanging is also good for lynching, I note, looking at the cute hippies.

"See that?" asks girl, looking at me.

"What?"

"You blinked."

"I what?"

They look at each other. They are having some sort of conversation I can't hear.

"You aren't here. I mean, you are , but you aren't. Most of you is somewhere else."

This is exactly the kind of bullshit mumbo-jumbo that my cat and various other animals tell me in my dreams. It's kinda fun in dreamland but in real-life I'm busy and I wish that the Cabbage Patchouli Kids would skip the bullshit and just say something that makes sense. I was having fun until boy mentioned my aura.

Girl puts one hand on my arm, the other she keeps on boy.

"You are dying."