November 8th, 2004
109984720443911459
In a country, far away
It’s cold. The pores in my skin are tingling. My arms and shoulders are heavy. I’m listening to Yoko Kanno [Seat Belts - Fingers] on cheap Sony headphones that hurt my ears after having worn them for two hours.
Days and weeks and months and years, I sat at a keyboard and thought about my life.
Lives and cars and highways and lines running every which way from a plane that flew over the city which was a speck unseen by a passing bird that flapped its wings in space smiling at a blue planet.
My life is here, and it’s now. Fifteen years later it will be here, and now, though the first of which may be some distance from the point at which this was written.
If a light burns out in the park by my window it will be dark, and for some time thereafter every night will be the same until someone notices and after noticing tells someone who will in turn notice and tell someone else until eventually the light will be replaced. Or it could just come back on right now. Either way, the light went out and it was dark and more likely than not it will be back on at some point in time. How much time and what happens in the dark is actually of very little consequence much like you reading this with the light on or not and being oblivious to the fact and very well may be forever.
If we talked, or laughed, or fought, or cried than I’m glad, and happy, and guilty, and sad, but I know you and you know me, or maybe you’ve yet to know me but some day, long, long after the light has been taken down and a tree has grown in its place you may wish you had talked or laughed or fought and cried with me, and for that I am thankful. So I want to give you my very best words, selecting each like a tiny, polished pebble on the shore.
Some dark, some light, some odd-shaped and some quite flat. We walk on so many of them during the day, whether ten meters below in the earth or just underfoot. Life like words, is made of such things, each different and some pleasurable to look at and some not, but the things that are, are and the things that are not, are not, and we will all walk over them in any case.
I am aware of stones in view and those in not, and pretend to be aware of even those that may not be there, but that is just foolishness. Because life is hollow and indifferent to the rules and boundaries put out by man to make him feel safe. But life will be life and even as simple a concept that it is I will enjoy it, enjoy it for the things that are pleasurable and those that are not, and try to remember that in the end of this one phase of my existence (be that as it may), just being is beauty enough, and so what else can one do but laugh, and sigh, and move, move, move through it all with a simple kind of grace?
