Author’s note: I wrote these items over the course of perhaps two years, ending perhaps a year ago. They’re a diverse collection of incomplete thoughts, generated at points in my life between the age of 5 and oh, 33? They’re rather ephemeral and nebulous, I apologize that they are not particularly useful. Maybe they’re slightly entertaining as art.
I try so often to put things into containers. To identify and label things. I’ve read this is not the correct way to go about things, instead I should simply experience first without trying to understand, as my mental filters simply obscure the very thing I’m trying to describe. So, with that in mind, I’m going to allow this thread to unwind. Instead of being specific, I’m going to try to describe something in the most vague way possible. It may be that if I paint a large enough picture, cast the net wide enough, I’ll manage to illuminate enough of the truth to get the point across. Or, it may end up making no sense at all.
Spinning out into the void, raging silent and futile. My tears mixing with the rain. My pain and I simply am. I simply see, feel the thunder. Feel the night. For a moment, I am ancient and eternal. So young and foolish, so impatient. The universe smiles and waits. Or perhaps I just imagine it smiling. It certainly waits.
I don’t put it this way at the time, but I’m fractured, broken…shattered into a thousand pieces.
Staring up into the sky, again feeling the pieces fit together like a child’s puzzle. I can feel how close we are, and see exactly how wrong things continue to be. I understand that they’d just have to stand and wait, that some lessons must be taught by the painful mistress of experience. I’m so impatient. And after that brief moment of lucidity, I fall back into the same madness that saturates our shared delusion, a moment ago I swore I’d stay pure. I laugh in my madness and try to smooth myself, integrate what I know to be true with what everyone play acts as our modern world. Above, and in every direction, the rest of the universe patiently waits…maybe if I keep chipping away…
I mock the world, our world. I directly face and taunt it. I lay out on the table that I see right through. I’ve been here before. I remember. I feel apprehensive. What if the world isn’t ready to be taunted? I rage against my fear, and rail at how slow change comes about, turmoil…
I feel threads I’ve explored before resurface. Familiar concepts. I’ve been here. The truth. What to do with it. How do I grab hold of it and run? Is that even possible?
I wish for a moment that I made more sense, as I write this. But that actually came later…
Feeling uneasy in my skin. Cold. Waiting. Breath out. I feel better.
What do you do if you can see something mapped out before you? What can anyone possibly say? I helplessly acknowledge the cards I’m dealt and marionette along the proscribed path, as the puppet I am.
I try in vain to remember. If I try to pin it down, it swoops away like the tiny mote, the dust bunny of a memory that it is. Slowly I approach, carefully stalking my prey. I become still and allow myself to return.
I remember that we live in Eden. It has always been here, always will be. This is still Eden. Original sin, what an amusing concept. Animals waking up, blinking dumbly in the bright light of the morning. Attempting to piece together the fragments of dream into something that makes sense…
How far back does it go? I’m going about this incorrectly. For as long as I can remember. Raindrops from a clear summer sky…I look up…
I circle time warily. A tempo, a beat to reality. I am so terribly self-centered, I amaze myself. I am immediately surprised that it is possible to notice such a thing. I cast the stone out, trying to pass the hot potato, I tire of the responsibility.
I’ve dropped into that vast single point of time, dipped my toe. I’ve danced around it, am dancing around it. Could I sink so fully into it that I look up and out from that vantage point? Attention. Something about measuring the state of an object defining the object. Strange. I must try this, sinking so fully into that moment that I disappear. Or rather, I suddenly land Awakened in my own skin?
I try to slice time. Try to dance around that central beat. This time, instead of circling it, with intent I use that inaudible drum to provide counterpoint to my selfishness. Such vast distances between one moment and the next. How much time we waste when we do not pay attention…
I sucked them up like you would a milkshake. Like a vapor. I hurled it out the window, dangled it out the window in what I took as a grotesque fashion. How can imagination be so vivid? How can it be so shared?
Around the same time roughly, I disappeared into the couch. I had no where else to go, I couldn’t just keep bouncing around the room… I dropped straight down through the cushions, hurtling thousands of feet down. At the bottom of this well there was a stone cylinder, unsupported from the bottom. I guess the top was back where I started from. It was inscribed or engraved, and tapered to a point, like a plumb bob, but a mile long…
I assumed that it was me, where else could I disappear to?
I look across the table. I swear I did not say that out loud. It turns out it doesn’t matter if I’m two feet away or fifty feet away. How can silence be so loud, so material, so connective?
Why, am I deaf? My lesson is to listen, I am so good at listening…is it that no one else is talking? I’m missing something…to wish impossible things…crazy, or just particularly loud?
This music is so damn good. How can this be random?
What if I created the most perfect song that I could, and no one ever got it? They nodded their heads, enjoyed the single. Played it on the radio. And completely failed to listen, to hear. I can’t understand…I wish I made more sense. This is the later I was referring to…