Further Dismantling
I cast long shadows.
I have a vivid imagination.
I love to run.
I compose horror music in the middle of the night.
Do not talk about me; there is nowhere you can go where I won’t hear you.
Win my respect, and I can be the best friend you’ve ever had.
I carry great sacks of peace and purses filled with small treasures.
I’m always trying to make people like me.
My attempts usually backfire.
I am accident prone.
I live from crisis to crisis.
Even the clearest directions are impossible for me to follow.
I am well-meaning, but not as innocent as I seem.
I am surprisingly fragile under my pompous and confident attitude.
I was sick as a young child so I learned to be alone with myself at an early age.
Now I wear my isolation around me like a grey sweater thrown back across my shoulders.
It started when I was a little boy listening to my parents scream at each other as I hid under covers.
I vowed then never to need anyone.
It was as if I sealed myself inside my skin, separate from everyone.
Once, I almost changed my mind. There was a woman whom I cherished. She surprised me. I loved her so much that I thought I would never be myself again. I trusted that such a relationship could not survive. And it didn’t.
I take long walks at the beach at sunset, pausing to meditate on the sun.
I have a quiet mind.
I like to think about the edges where things spill into each other and become their opposites.
I know how to look at things inside out.
Sometimes my eyes go out to the thing I’m looking at and sometimes the thing I’m looking at enters through my eye.
Questions of time, depth, and balance interest me.
I am not looking for answers.
I talk to people who need to hear me.
I listen to those who need to be heard.
My presence is subtle, simple, and undeniable.
I am at home in the desert and the city, with dolphins and tigers, with outlaws, lovers, and saints.
posted by -R at 8:32 PM
2 Comments:
I was about to write something I call "the checklist of normalcy," but I think you took a great deal of the words right out of my mouth before I could put pen to paper. I think that I and half the world could identify with half of what you said. Hey,does that make everyone 1/4 the same? Nevermind. Thinkers are attracted to thought and thoughtfulness in others, but burdened by their own thoughts more frequently than they are fulfilled in others.
Great minds do think alike. Your comment reminds me of the Eyedea song Color My World Mine when he says:
On the wall, there was a picture that looked familiar
And when he got close, his heart stopped
cause he saw it was a painting of his dream
…
I mean, words can't explain
What must have went on in his brain while he stared into a frame
Of a work of art which he created and was at the same time
The mind can't handle that much, it's just insane
It's like reading a book where each words describe your thoughts
And in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you talk
This is why I love art. Pictures can capture an image that you’ve seen before and writings can describe exactly what you’re thinking. Coincidences can, at times, be too much to be simply written off as a coincidence, which creates the “burden” to the thinker to figure out what else could it be. Perhaps ignorance is bliss as it would alleviate the thinker from his burden. But then I think of Zach de la Rocha who proudly pronounces “If ignorance is bliss, then they can knock the smile of my face!” We are not here to be fat dumb and happy. We are here to think.
Thank you for your very insightful comment.
Post a Comment
<< Home