This is just another way to escape the tensions and stresses of daily life; the tensions and stresses of being in the possession of a crappy concept of self. The tensions and stresses that are eluded by the gritting of teeth or nervous shaking of a leg, or obsessively humming a tune or hammering a rhythm. Or more sophisticatedly by overworking or making music. Or more pervertedly like taking a smoke or masturbating. Or more deceitfully by starting a religion, or following one. I go left and right and come back to this. As if this were the way. Where do i go? What do i do?
There is a way that eventually ends the tensions and stresses. But i do not like to take it. It is too demanding. To learn to love myself. That is the way. But this requires a relationship with myself, where i actually open my eyes and see myself as it really is. This is so threatening and i have twisted it in a way that it no longer is a threat to me but a weapon i use to threaten others. "I, the one who sees himself for what it is!" i console myself, saying of those i am threatened by "Idiots, they can't explain their own behavior!" Alas, when lies and deceit are so prevalent that sickness be overlooked and the overlooking be glorified.
Imagine coming to terms with yourself. Imagine walking down the winding corridors, through forgotten underground halls, where light is luxury, where the smells are not familiar, and not pleasant, where rats scurry around and cobwebs get in your face, and finding the door. Unexpectedly. Who could live here? Imagine what your stomach would feel like if you thought about opening it. Imagine you did. Imagine the smell of human excrement and rotting skin. A dreadful sight, a broken old man, wounded, naked, prostrated on the floor amidst his own faeces. Imagine him seeing you. Imagine him attempting to raise his limp arm to seek your help. Imagine his eyes coming into yours! Now imagine it is your responsibility to help. Wouldn't you rather shut the door and run out to the light and erase the scene entirely from your memory, and fill your head with pleasant sights and smells, and music and laughter?
But woe to you when you boast your skills at exploring dark alleys and opening spooky doors. Woe to you when that person behind the door becomes a mere cause that you fight for, a mere concept. Woe to you because you have made yourself a cause, a concept. You have fallen from personhood.
Dec 17, 2008
Dec 12, 2008
Rock Star
The screams and shrieks of the insane multitudes flooded his ears.
The song was over, and so was the show.
He raised his right hand, a pick still held between his thumb and index,
the three remaining fingers soared high and his rings shone under the stage lights.
His guitar in the other, he took a bow.
With only his feet in view, he had a moment to himself,
and for a while there..
he thought he was better than them all.
The song was over, and so was the show.
He raised his right hand, a pick still held between his thumb and index,
the three remaining fingers soared high and his rings shone under the stage lights.
His guitar in the other, he took a bow.
With only his feet in view, he had a moment to himself,
and for a while there..
he thought he was better than them all.
Dec 4, 2008
Knock Knock
Love came knocking on my door. I knew it was him. from the way he knocked. I could see him through the glass, and he could see me. I knew his face. His eyes, deep like the ocean, deep and vast, yet warm and welcoming. Penetrating. With folds of skin around them, like an old man would have; as if the skin wrinkled from their intensity. You couldn't tell their color, it is like peering into a bottomless pit that would never be full of seeing. I couldn't look into them.
He stood behind my door. I knew it was him. i knew him very well. i wanted to let him in but i didn't have a key. I signaled to him. He understood. He tried to find another entrance, the windows were locked. All was locked. I couldn't find the key. Everywhere i looked. But futily. I panicked. I screamed and shouted. I banged at the walls and the windows. He calmly tried to find a way in. Gently. Soberly. I blamed him. Why can't you come in? I screamed and shouted. I banged at the walls and the windows. I finally tried the door. It was still locked.
Exasperated but exhausted i collapsed behind the door. He sat on the front steps. His back to the door. And we both wept.
Dec 3, 2008
Cold Shower
Did you ever take a cold shower?
Not the kind that you intentionally take on a hot summer afternoon, but the kind that takes you on a cold winter morning. It's cold and stinging and the soap doesn't lather. And you just want it to be over so you can be warm again. Not warm, just not freezing.
What if someone's life were like that? Some say that the best way to go through one of those is not to wish it were any warmer. Just to take it as it comes. But what if you really expected it to be warm? Not because you're spoiled but just because it's how you think? But what if being spoiled meant that you think like that?
Not the kind that you intentionally take on a hot summer afternoon, but the kind that takes you on a cold winter morning. It's cold and stinging and the soap doesn't lather. And you just want it to be over so you can be warm again. Not warm, just not freezing.
What if someone's life were like that? Some say that the best way to go through one of those is not to wish it were any warmer. Just to take it as it comes. But what if you really expected it to be warm? Not because you're spoiled but just because it's how you think? But what if being spoiled meant that you think like that?
Dec 1, 2008
Stinky (Part 1)
Its been a few months now. The smell seems to have found its way into his consciousness. For the first couple of months he thought it was just the office and that he would get used to it. But now it seems to follow him wherever he went. It is an unpleasant smell. Not sharp and irritating, but accumulatively unpleasant.
He was angry now, not only disgusted. He was thinking of ways to breathe freshly once more. Deodorants and just plain old fresh air have not worked, neither has showering. Ignoring it made him find it even worse. The distracting rhythms and harmonies of his favorite music seemed only to amplify it, and so did the beautiful faces and voices of those around him.
Fed up as he was, he took an evening to himself, locked himself inside his house, with no one in it. He began to search. He brought up his feet to his nostrils, they smelled mildly of fungus. Not it. He took deep whiffs at his armpits; the 24-hour protection thing is a lie, he now knew that, but the source of the stink was still a mystery to him. He took his clothes off and sniffed them in all the likely and unlikely places. No. His nose was tired now, dry and constantly on the verge of a sneeze.
Baffled he walked across the hallway. A glimpse of something on his now bare back caught his eye in the mirror at the end of the hallway. He twisted his head to see but could not. Another look into the mirror confirmed it. Surprised, curious and somewhat unsettled, he slowly approached the mirror. He stared; his back to the mirror and his head twisted and his eyes focusing.
“Are we in the Matrix or something??” He thought to himself. ”What in the world is that?” Rather worried now and at the same time immensely curious, he slowly reached and touched it. It was black and it ran in a line from his lower back to the base of his skull. It resembled a zipper in many ways but seemed more sophisticated.
The smell he had set out to identify was now entirely forgotten in the excitement and alarm of his new discovery. At the base of his skull where the zipper-like thing ended he found a piece of metal. A handle it seemed to him. “Yeah right!” he thought sarcastically, “If I unzip this zipper my skin will fall off and I will find out that I am really an alien from outer space!” The humor was rather sickening to him.
In one go or slowly? He was always a slow and careful person. “Too careful” He thought to himself, and against himself and all odds he unzipped the thing all the way down to his lower back.
Immediately, the smell, the same smell filled his nostrils and went directly to his brain, now sharp and unbearable it clouded his mind and nauseated his stomach. He gagged and almost vomited and collapsed to the cold hard floor. His brain throbbing with amplifications and interpretations of all the sounds and sights around him. He fainted.
He was angry now, not only disgusted. He was thinking of ways to breathe freshly once more. Deodorants and just plain old fresh air have not worked, neither has showering. Ignoring it made him find it even worse. The distracting rhythms and harmonies of his favorite music seemed only to amplify it, and so did the beautiful faces and voices of those around him.
Fed up as he was, he took an evening to himself, locked himself inside his house, with no one in it. He began to search. He brought up his feet to his nostrils, they smelled mildly of fungus. Not it. He took deep whiffs at his armpits; the 24-hour protection thing is a lie, he now knew that, but the source of the stink was still a mystery to him. He took his clothes off and sniffed them in all the likely and unlikely places. No. His nose was tired now, dry and constantly on the verge of a sneeze.
Baffled he walked across the hallway. A glimpse of something on his now bare back caught his eye in the mirror at the end of the hallway. He twisted his head to see but could not. Another look into the mirror confirmed it. Surprised, curious and somewhat unsettled, he slowly approached the mirror. He stared; his back to the mirror and his head twisted and his eyes focusing.
“Are we in the Matrix or something??” He thought to himself. ”What in the world is that?” Rather worried now and at the same time immensely curious, he slowly reached and touched it. It was black and it ran in a line from his lower back to the base of his skull. It resembled a zipper in many ways but seemed more sophisticated.
The smell he had set out to identify was now entirely forgotten in the excitement and alarm of his new discovery. At the base of his skull where the zipper-like thing ended he found a piece of metal. A handle it seemed to him. “Yeah right!” he thought sarcastically, “If I unzip this zipper my skin will fall off and I will find out that I am really an alien from outer space!” The humor was rather sickening to him.
In one go or slowly? He was always a slow and careful person. “Too careful” He thought to himself, and against himself and all odds he unzipped the thing all the way down to his lower back.
Immediately, the smell, the same smell filled his nostrils and went directly to his brain, now sharp and unbearable it clouded his mind and nauseated his stomach. He gagged and almost vomited and collapsed to the cold hard floor. His brain throbbing with amplifications and interpretations of all the sounds and sights around him. He fainted.
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