February 19, 2013
-
I can’t write for shit.
But y’all get to read it anyway. You’ve caught me in a bit of a stream of consciousness moment – to your detriment and amusement! So here’s a wee bit of mood-writing:
Fates were tempted and found wanting, so I tried to tempt other things than fate – but alas – such other glamours found me wanting, leaving ME simply eye to arse with fate.
I’ve got no unique stories, just my own. Since Gertrude Stein told us what we already knew – that we were lost – each generation seems to successively wallow in their own sense of loss, and seek out own new superficial distractions to keep us from dutifully, finally, confronting our own empty, lost sense of ourselves…
I’m no different – just more aware maybe, or perhaps I just think I’m more aware. Elitism is the new human nature – even when we’re worse than you, we’re better at it than you are, har har har!
But – Stories! There was that time. With that girl. Or was it a boy? At that place. Was it a bar? A club then. It was dark. Or was it just dim? A gossamer thin haze, soft as velvet – sweet scent of flowers masking that lingering taste of .. lime? olives? gin? whiskey? Tart, bitter, sweet, bittersweet… all glazed over as a fog over the mind’s eye.
The morning wakeup’s a bitch. The comedown is hard on the head and the stomach, and the memories have been completely obliterated by the evening’s happenings. What fragments remain maintain a cluttered, random sense of poignancy. Wither “anything happened” would be immaterial – the bioelectric impulses retain only bare, brief afterimages – a light touch, a smile, the smooth feel of the edges of a soft, warm hand. That exciting uncertainty when – just maybe! There was a possibility! It was that moment – that potential of things that may just be, that kept you there too long, too warm, too content, too drunk – on possibilities! And possibility’s eventual evaporation – that led to the warm inviting comfort of a glass half – then – full – then half – then full and empty then OH!
Here’s what we were looking for – that sleep, those precious few moments after it all, when the black oblivious lack of though finally hits and you realize, the morning after, in the midst of retching pain – that I’m not 20-something anymore, but that was the best, most relieving rest that has managed to come upon me in MONTHS, maybe YEARS…
Then the jagged bits of reality infiltrate subtly, a piece at a time. Bills to pay, obligations to meet. Work to do and appointments to keep. Up. Out. On with things…
