if you slow your eyes down
if you just stop to look
you can see the fluidity of everything
matter
space
time
love
i feel a white fog around my head, draping my eyes in mist so that i see purely.
so purely.
but not so clear that i can make out what the purity is.
you see, sometimes i feel what i know before i see it.
do you know that feeling?
i want you to take my voice like delilah right now, on cool 99.9, ever so soft and singingly,
not the raucous busting voice of somebody with conviction of opinion that may be slightly unfounded, as you may have been speaking to yourself as me
push down the levers and pull the red handle, they told me.
that's how you'll count as person #124,333,432. here's your sticker.
did you know what you wanted for yourself? or your children? or was that sticker too slick to pass up?
i wonder if i could run for office. i would have one agenda. i'm sure you can guess it and it's not your first notion. you'd have to read back a little. maybe to april 2006. take the hot out and inject stability, and your answer will appear.
symmetry is baffling. baffling. why cannot a classroom of ten year olds have desks that are not in straight rows? why cannot the kids just ... move the desks where they can see best? where they feel empowered, connected, and comfortable (though they would name this 'where my friends are'). one thing i love about children is that they utilize their energy in every step they take. they express themselves. they lay it all out there, radiating with last night's forgotten anger and today's overwhelming love. sometimes, they'll talk so fast, they'll begin to break a sweat. i love it. they'll talk so fast because all of those words and pictures and ideas and questions flying around their head are running full on into the side of their brain, asking to get out. and they are children. so they listen. we. we do not. we feel it. but not with magnitude. because we've spent so many hardworking years building up the white mattress to pad it. the mattress of fucking bullshit context and fear. once again. always back to fear.
i cannot type lately with the same speed and unthinkingness that i have always been able to. i am conscious of my fingers right now, something i've never had while writing, and it makes me wonder if they are not ready to let what they have stored for me out. not done analyzing. processing. looking for more evidence, one moment of empirical truth that can be embodied by the english language. goddamn english language. it's funny how angry it makes me. because, well, true anger cannot come from something that cannot place blame. that cannot be fixed. so i'll laugh. and just pretend that the asshole who invented a language with absolutely no logic involved had his feet chopped off by a train.
when you're on a subway, and you're moving in a straight line. why do you rock back and forth? the wheels have to compensate for the turning of the tracks, so each wheel has a short side and a long side. while travelling straight, the wheels essentially rock back and forth.
what do you think about radicalism? does it exist? or is it just the word that describes anything that is apathetic? i don't believe in radicalism. i believe in beliefs.
maybe someday in this space i'll let you know all of them. i'll rant and rave until my water is used and i'm ready for a beer. but when i do, don't touch the screen. and please, lord in heaven, do not believe a word that i write.