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There Here.
Oct. 24th, 2002 02:00 amThe smell of pasta and Styrofoam, taking me back to downtown Georgetown.And I wanted, more than anything, to bring There Here. A vision of small beauty, lithe, Dark (in that ephemeral, ethereal, ineffable way), standing on a street corner. Head tilted to the side, in a querulous way, as if to ask "Why are you all the way over there?" And, more than anything, I wanted to bring There Here. It is an unformed mode, that allows for nothing more than connection, without connection, and I pray that I have found, in my new mode of being, the Detached Attachment that Zen seems to beg. And maybe it's Sociopathic ("Quiet."), but i want that, There, to know this, Here.
And i spent time, today, trailing my hands through the fabric of the school, and I slid through Being, as if through dehydrated water: the molecules of Hydrogen and Oxygen on that perilous, explosive, slithering edge of bonding and co-mingling. A feeling like not much else. The atoms of my hand are rigid and formed, but they are made of the randomness of Quarks. Appearing and disappearing as randomly as human resolve. Or so the physicists say. But what do they know.
So, underlying it all, is the effect that my emotional pitfalls and sand traps are there, from the start. My Friends must deal with them, bar none, so why should my "relationships" be any different? Why is that Booby Trap (All puns subconsciously intended) switch hit, whenever a certain referential phrase is exchanged for another? It's like the sensitivity on a Hurtful Detector is turned up to N. Or maybe that's simply my experience. But in and through my experience, i've discovered that, somewhere, there is a way to be friends, more than friends, less than friends, nothing, everything, and all points in between, to the people in your life, all at the same time. In this place, the referential phrases can change, or not, and the fact that these potentials exist is understood-- and i mean implicitly understood-- by everyone, and everyone can deal with it. And I hope, more than anything, that I can bring There Here.
(Stuck in my head: "Mr. Important," by Bis) Noticing, in others, the capacities and behaviours that you abhor in your former self, and knowing, in your heart, that they like the arrogance and inability to laugh at themselves that they exude. They Try, in life, too Hard to be better that, fit in with, and all the other childish shite, and you wonder if they will ever simply Be. Their Here (Us) V. your There (Them). And somehow they go on.
Placing one thing Higher than another is the manifestation of the preference to Exist. And then we think that the Placing is the Key, instead of the Preference. So we keep Placing and Comparing, and trying to Be Better Than. Being is lonely.
Lots of conversations lead me down spirals, and do nothing but strengthen my resolve to make them understand. I have doubts, sometimes, as to how well i do that. Sometimes I think that the confusion that ensues is my fault, and i come up with any myriad reasons for them. They range from the pathetic ("Well maybe i'm just not good enough to explain what i feel."), to the arrogant ("Well I'm far too advanced, here, for them to get me yet."). And they're all wrong. Conversely... well.. you know.
Ineffable shards of daytime distraction, spinning around concentric spherical universes. Words ["like violence"] (Tori's cover of "Enjoy the Silence" stuck in head here.) stabbing splinters into our understanding: Annoying their ways, deeper and deeper, unless/-til we figure out how to pull them out, and toss them away, with learning or scorn, like "What does that mean?" Like "I just don't understand you.
And i wrote that in Business Ethics. My dreams involved the Evil chick, from Will and grace, without a head, and i had made her mannequin heads, to wear, but they would get deformed, and she could see, and tell, and she would get angry. Then i played the Crypto Solitaire with my family.
One of the earliest memories i have is of me, sitting in my great-grandmothers house, in rural Virginia, watching a Duke Blue Devils basket ball game. I was 3.
Dream Well
And i spent time, today, trailing my hands through the fabric of the school, and I slid through Being, as if through dehydrated water: the molecules of Hydrogen and Oxygen on that perilous, explosive, slithering edge of bonding and co-mingling. A feeling like not much else. The atoms of my hand are rigid and formed, but they are made of the randomness of Quarks. Appearing and disappearing as randomly as human resolve. Or so the physicists say. But what do they know.
So, underlying it all, is the effect that my emotional pitfalls and sand traps are there, from the start. My Friends must deal with them, bar none, so why should my "relationships" be any different? Why is that Booby Trap (All puns subconsciously intended) switch hit, whenever a certain referential phrase is exchanged for another? It's like the sensitivity on a Hurtful Detector is turned up to N. Or maybe that's simply my experience. But in and through my experience, i've discovered that, somewhere, there is a way to be friends, more than friends, less than friends, nothing, everything, and all points in between, to the people in your life, all at the same time. In this place, the referential phrases can change, or not, and the fact that these potentials exist is understood-- and i mean implicitly understood-- by everyone, and everyone can deal with it. And I hope, more than anything, that I can bring There Here.
(Stuck in my head: "Mr. Important," by Bis) Noticing, in others, the capacities and behaviours that you abhor in your former self, and knowing, in your heart, that they like the arrogance and inability to laugh at themselves that they exude. They Try, in life, too Hard to be better that, fit in with, and all the other childish shite, and you wonder if they will ever simply Be. Their Here (Us) V. your There (Them). And somehow they go on.
Placing one thing Higher than another is the manifestation of the preference to Exist. And then we think that the Placing is the Key, instead of the Preference. So we keep Placing and Comparing, and trying to Be Better Than. Being is lonely.
Lots of conversations lead me down spirals, and do nothing but strengthen my resolve to make them understand. I have doubts, sometimes, as to how well i do that. Sometimes I think that the confusion that ensues is my fault, and i come up with any myriad reasons for them. They range from the pathetic ("Well maybe i'm just not good enough to explain what i feel."), to the arrogant ("Well I'm far too advanced, here, for them to get me yet."). And they're all wrong. Conversely... well.. you know.
Ineffable shards of daytime distraction, spinning around concentric spherical universes. Words ["like violence"] (Tori's cover of "Enjoy the Silence" stuck in head here.) stabbing splinters into our understanding: Annoying their ways, deeper and deeper, unless/-til we figure out how to pull them out, and toss them away, with learning or scorn, like "What does that mean?" Like "I just don't understand you.
_________________
And i wrote that in Business Ethics. My dreams involved the Evil chick, from Will and grace, without a head, and i had made her mannequin heads, to wear, but they would get deformed, and she could see, and tell, and she would get angry. Then i played the Crypto Solitaire with my family.
One of the earliest memories i have is of me, sitting in my great-grandmothers house, in rural Virginia, watching a Duke Blue Devils basket ball game. I was 3.
Dream Well
