I
see freshly mown grass, where it wasn't the last time. I see a little
dog on a porch, being very still. I see a couple ride by on bicycles. I
see the guy take a look back at me after they've passed by. I hear
something explode. Way off in the distance. I don't know what it is, but
I guess it could have been fireworks, or a gun, or maybe even a bomb...
but not thunder.
I pass by insanely familiar sights. I try to open a pack of cigarettes with one hand, and it frustrates me, and then I feel like my awareness is unlocked. Just because of that little thing - that little episode with the cigarettes. I understand that my equation is unbalanced, and that there is more sad than joy in my particular situation, and that I'm starving for beauty. Then I realize that took too long to say, and that the beauty of it was lost, because it became too personal. Beauty should never be personal.
I said that like it was some kind of nugget of wisdom, didn't I? What the fuck do I know? I walk down this same path every day, every night. The same one, over and over. Every day every afternoon every night every day every noon night day night and stuff. And again. I do this over and over and over and over. Do you want to know what it feels like? It's like this. Imagine that you have a red hot poker shoved up your rectum, and it hurts, but it's also funny at the same time. The reason why it hurts is obvious, but the reason why its funny is pretty personal. Or vice-versa. Whatever. Who cares? That part is different for all of us. Are you getting it? Are you relating to this in any way? If you are, then that feeling of a red-hot poker up your ass might actually mean something. That's funny, right? But damn don't it hurt.
Anywho. A lot of things are like that. A lot of things try to mean something, which kicks ass because that in itself means something; that things just kind of want to do that naturally... to have meaning. That's one thing that rules about being awake. So if you're ever being tortured, try to remember that. I don't know if it will help, but ask yourself this (while the torturing is happening) - would you rather be a nothingness, or would you rather be a potential for joy, pain, beauty, despair, and stuff, with the possibility of being extinguished always ever present? If you're ever being tortured, that is... that's when you'd ask yourself that. I guess it all depends on what you think is interesting.
But horror exists at the same time. Horror is an undefeatable injustice, and it's always right there, and its always ready. Like quicksand... or what I imagine quicksand to be. That seems like it might be a little bit too commonly vague, actually. I'm trying to describe the feelings I have as they occur, but by the time I think of the words for them, the feelings have passed by. And then I have to try to remember what it felt like, and I try to describe the feeling based on that memory...
And then I walk a little further, and I vegetate a little more, and my stupid cabbage brain remembers that people are afraid of me. I'm just a small person, with a bag, and a light, and a cabbage, at night. And people get freaked the fuck out by me. They don't understand that I would try to save a life if I could. That I would do a good thing to check an act of evil, if it was right there in front of us. That I'm in the light and I'm a good guy, and that I'm carrying the fire. Even though I'm an asshole. They don't understand that. They're afraid. I understand the fear, but it still hurts that they are afraid of me. Heck, I'd give one of my kidneys to save anybody's life if I could. I'd do whatever I could to help anybody, even though I'm an asshole. Assholes can be good guys, too. Look at Han Solo.
It's amazing how we don't concern ourselves with each other. What's really weird, and what really sucks, and what's weirdly and sucky, is realizing a thing like that because you're in the middle of it. For example...
I'm a self-aware bottom feeder with a galaxy-sized ego, capable of swallowing the concept of 'screw it' in 13 dimensions, which hurts pretty bad. But in my defense... just being alive hurts Ok? We breathe oxygen, and we need it to live, but it's corrosive and it hurts. I forgot where I read that, but it's true. It has something to do with free radicals, or rust, or something. Anyway. Trust me. Oxygen is corrosive, and it's killing us. We are all like crack babies, except we're born oxygen babies. Isn't that the stupidest thing you've ever heard, ever?
I pass by insanely familiar sights. I try to open a pack of cigarettes with one hand, and it frustrates me, and then I feel like my awareness is unlocked. Just because of that little thing - that little episode with the cigarettes. I understand that my equation is unbalanced, and that there is more sad than joy in my particular situation, and that I'm starving for beauty. Then I realize that took too long to say, and that the beauty of it was lost, because it became too personal. Beauty should never be personal.
I said that like it was some kind of nugget of wisdom, didn't I? What the fuck do I know? I walk down this same path every day, every night. The same one, over and over. Every day every afternoon every night every day every noon night day night and stuff. And again. I do this over and over and over and over. Do you want to know what it feels like? It's like this. Imagine that you have a red hot poker shoved up your rectum, and it hurts, but it's also funny at the same time. The reason why it hurts is obvious, but the reason why its funny is pretty personal. Or vice-versa. Whatever. Who cares? That part is different for all of us. Are you getting it? Are you relating to this in any way? If you are, then that feeling of a red-hot poker up your ass might actually mean something. That's funny, right? But damn don't it hurt.
Anywho. A lot of things are like that. A lot of things try to mean something, which kicks ass because that in itself means something; that things just kind of want to do that naturally... to have meaning. That's one thing that rules about being awake. So if you're ever being tortured, try to remember that. I don't know if it will help, but ask yourself this (while the torturing is happening) - would you rather be a nothingness, or would you rather be a potential for joy, pain, beauty, despair, and stuff, with the possibility of being extinguished always ever present? If you're ever being tortured, that is... that's when you'd ask yourself that. I guess it all depends on what you think is interesting.
But horror exists at the same time. Horror is an undefeatable injustice, and it's always right there, and its always ready. Like quicksand... or what I imagine quicksand to be. That seems like it might be a little bit too commonly vague, actually. I'm trying to describe the feelings I have as they occur, but by the time I think of the words for them, the feelings have passed by. And then I have to try to remember what it felt like, and I try to describe the feeling based on that memory...
And then I walk a little further, and I vegetate a little more, and my stupid cabbage brain remembers that people are afraid of me. I'm just a small person, with a bag, and a light, and a cabbage, at night. And people get freaked the fuck out by me. They don't understand that I would try to save a life if I could. That I would do a good thing to check an act of evil, if it was right there in front of us. That I'm in the light and I'm a good guy, and that I'm carrying the fire. Even though I'm an asshole. They don't understand that. They're afraid. I understand the fear, but it still hurts that they are afraid of me. Heck, I'd give one of my kidneys to save anybody's life if I could. I'd do whatever I could to help anybody, even though I'm an asshole. Assholes can be good guys, too. Look at Han Solo.
It's amazing how we don't concern ourselves with each other. What's really weird, and what really sucks, and what's weirdly and sucky, is realizing a thing like that because you're in the middle of it. For example...
I'm a self-aware bottom feeder with a galaxy-sized ego, capable of swallowing the concept of 'screw it' in 13 dimensions, which hurts pretty bad. But in my defense... just being alive hurts Ok? We breathe oxygen, and we need it to live, but it's corrosive and it hurts. I forgot where I read that, but it's true. It has something to do with free radicals, or rust, or something. Anyway. Trust me. Oxygen is corrosive, and it's killing us. We are all like crack babies, except we're born oxygen babies. Isn't that the stupidest thing you've ever heard, ever?
