Intangible
I am easily misled, mishandled, mistaken. Described as gullible, naive and yes, at times, innocent. (I know. I don’t see it, either.) In truth, my usual instinct, suspect as things may be, is beyond and by far wholesome acceptance. But don’t for a moment think me ignorant. I am decidedly aware of this suspension. Conscious and purposeful because I need to:
Feel that there is meaning still to come
Experience agonising truths
Believe in alien encounters and other far-fetched ideals
Understand that death is more than just stalking me
If I don’t feel, experience, believe or understand (which I don’t), I have a double mind to put a full stop to it all right here and right then, in this place and the other immediately. Sans notes or regrets or regretful notes.
But (beside and besides fear) an intangible lingers. Akin to a thin, imperceptibly silver thread that keeps me connected–no, bound–to the earth and its shepherds turned hunters. So, I will continue to hand you my undying belief, think it over, twist it through and gladly pass it along with all the innocence reserved for only this. I do it willingly, wittingly, I premeditate my immolation.
Partake or don’t, as only you can see fit. But go on, in all and any case: push me down the rabbit hole and take me by surprise.
3 August 2007 at 5:38 am
It’s only hope in meaning still to come that keeps us going on. It comes, but afterwards, and you just have to trust that it will.
3 August 2007 at 6:34 am
There is definitely meaning in everything - whether it’s staring at an indeterminate point in the floor for one and a half hours, staring at a bowlful of piss for half an hour, or gazing at the intricate patterns in one’s carpet for what seems like forever - and, yes, the wise Z is right, it’s hope for a meaning still to come that keeps us going on.
When that meaning comes, I don’t know. I wish I did. I would like to pencil it in for next Tuesday.
3 August 2007 at 10:30 am
Z: It’s true, you’re very wise. Sometimes all that waiting around is just exhausting and you catch yourself staring at a toilet for far longer than is healthy or listening to the same song over and over 50 billion times and you think… Wait. Where the fuck was I again?
AUW: Can we book it for this Saturday instead? Lately I’m finding my working weekdays quite meaningless on the whole.