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Saturday night, after waivering, almost tilting onto the side of crawling back into bed and lying in the dark, I instead put on cut-off jean shorts and in-the-style-of-seersucker blazer and biked down to meet J-Hud and we went to a yacht club. "Are you sure I'm dressed alright?" she said. "Are you kidding? We are so coordinated they will take our picture and put it in the straight version of Nightspots." "Does that exist?" I have no idea. We arrived nearly simultaneously with other members of our party, to join the party, the one in celebration of the music of Time Life commercials that feature 'grown up' members of Air Supply. That is a euphemism. If you call something out as a euphemism, does it still count? Its unclear. We stood in long lines for free booze and ordered the maximum amount, which sometimes involved a bottle of beer in the pocket. I saw an old friend from college. I danced. I nearly coldcocked a friend for being an ass. I nearly had a foursome. Or a threesome. Fcking Joey and his fcking ascot! We piled off the boat, down the sidewalk, we parted ways at the light, it was back to me and J-Hud and we walked to pancakes, or BLT with fries, then parted ways. Buzzed biking is drunk biking, but I felt way better after the food, and at a six-way intersection I decided I needed to make a phone call and sing into someone's voicemail.
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We think we are so difficult, so unique, so special. Of all the vast open space in the universe, how did we end up so complex, when there are galaxies made up elemental puffs, how did we luck out and get mitochondrial powerhouses inside of our cells. But its not just us, its us and stray dogs and fruit flies and giant jellyfishes that skate along the bottom of deep ocean shelves. We are all elegant. Zizek says we are nothing, that talking helps distract another person from seeing that we are nothing, so we keep talking. He also says no one taken in by idealogy ever believes they are being duped. I am inclined to believe this as well, we never are fully aware of what's going on in any given moment, when it comes to the macrocosm. With the microcosm, this is where my spiritual inclinations come into play, because I believe full awares is my spiritual purpose, to be absolutely present and conscious in my body at all times, that is enlightenment, but enlightenment is not only far away, it is unlikely in this lifetime, in this generation, in this millenia, but I do it anyway, because achieving enlightenment is not the point. It just feels to me like the only path to stride on. Rilke says only write if you cannot conceive of yourself living a life of not writing. I would suggest considering this: only breathe if you cannot imagine not breathing. Even when I envision death, my lungs have breath remaining inside. When my mitochondrial plants shut down, workers sent home without a final paycheck, there will be rattling and yelling, but in the end they will walk, they will take buses, they will drive, disperse and the gates will never open again and people who buy houses across the street won't know what its like to live next to the hum of coils and generators. They will live in a different world than their neighbors to the left who have been there for decades. That is the house where my memories will remain, in the basement, in cardboard boxes lifted off the floor in case of heavy rains and flooding.
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We think we are so difficult, so unique, so special. Of all the vast open space in the universe, how did we end up so complex, when there are galaxies made up elemental puffs, how did we luck out and get mitochondrial powerhouses inside of our cells. But its not just us, its us and stray dogs and fruit flies and giant jellyfishes that skate along the bottom of deep ocean shelves. We are all elegant. Zizek says we are nothing, that talking helps distract another person from seeing that we are nothing, so we keep talking. He also says no one taken in by idealogy ever believes they are being duped. I am inclined to believe this as well, we never are fully aware of what's going on in any given moment, when it comes to the macrocosm. With the microcosm, this is where my spiritual inclinations come into play, because I believe full awares is my spiritual purpose, to be absolutely present and conscious in my body at all times, that is enlightenment, but enlightenment is not only far away, it is unlikely in this lifetime, in this generation, in this millenia, but I do it anyway, because achieving enlightenment is not the point. It just feels to me like the only path to stride on. Rilke says only write if you cannot conceive of yourself living a life of not writing. I would suggest considering this: only breathe if you cannot imagine not breathing. Even when I envision death, my lungs have breath remaining inside. When my mitochondrial plants shut down, workers sent home without a final paycheck, there will be rattling and yelling, but in the end they will walk, they will take buses, they will drive, disperse and the gates will never open again and people who buy houses across the street won't know what its like to live next to the hum of coils and generators. They will live in a different world than their neighbors to the left who have been there for decades. That is the house where my memories will remain, in the basement, in cardboard boxes lifted off the floor in case of heavy rains and flooding.
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