june 21, 2001
chipped nails + cut-rate minutia
captivation.
a little bird (let's say -- hummingbird) flips/flops in my belly. i just finished watching before night falls and it reminded me what exuberance is all about. the survival instinct. artistry. this tale touched me & i marveled at how, ten years after his death, reinaldo arenas has strolled into the minds/hearts/eyes of thousands, making every inch of his experience part of our own. i know this isn't terribly unusual -- we can get into the minds of poets from hundreds of years ago -- but somehow this episode of a life lived grabbed & comforted me. as if, through all his pain, i am able to grasp my own humanity.
i have so much more to say, but at the moment i crave solitude + thoughts.
june 6, 2001
pretend all you want
graciousness is a gift you can give yourself when you realize life is extraordinarily depressing without it. it's like self-confidence, a terrifying secret hell-bent on keeping you from escaping it's grip. but no one minds the overexertion of sweetness -- at least not the people i've had the pleasure of encountering. no one will call you on your shit, especially if it's coated in honey.
days shatter. this isn't necessarily a bad thing, mind you -- more minutes melding & skidding free from the collective body (increasing the probability of impressing upon time one's own predilection for continuity). true, just because time seems more available doesn't always mean it will prove to be spent in a quality manner. quantity can sometimes initiate laziness. but inasmuch as this is true, this feeling of supreme collusion can find legitimacy, and at a relatively low cost : one must identify only the mere gorgeousness of the possibilities.
cryptic, life as feather duster -- all particles crushing together momentarily to present a tiny, portioned perspective. how sad can you feel? where do the limits of your desperation lie? in which split-second collapse do you find acceptance? loneliness? complete & utter fear of continued existence? blessed are the breaks in the continuum -- time dilation hand-standing cockily without regard nor regret. you can watch this ripple walk across the room & back again without studying it's sashay; you'll soon pine for the pebbles of understanding which occasionally pop up beneath the soles of your feet.
this evening i walked slowly home. a beat up toyota truck (some shade of blue) slowed to a stop, driver craning his head, pulling to the side & blocking my path. for a moment i fantasized about the brutal, yet justified, actions i would perform should the operator of the vehicle attempt to engage me. walking briskly by, his head following my progression, i realized, almost tenderly, how alone he must feel -- he was entertaining the idea of approaching a complete stranger for comfort.
everyone has a different definition of comfort. the only commonality is the need to trust, and feel trusted.
and a lullaby ain't half bad, either.