Tuesday, December 20, 2011
while i'm still waking up
most of my life of course
though what that would be
doesn't mean it actually means
and since it's impossible
to even discuss it is that mistake
of much: the subject believes
in experience, but not "outside"
just as much (which means little)
can say that the subject only is
itself filtered through body or soul.
what is direct? a process separating
and suturing experiencers?
just as much (which means little)
say that the subject is one form.
old men believe they did something
or because they did it long ago
that it is of interest to the young
no matter how mundane.
something like "maxwell house
for 50 years" or "the first coffee
was maxwell house 50 years ago."
Monday, December 5, 2011
i do something matters. as if as if as if.
no one wanting personal therapy. as if a self.
as if a body, limited, can make no assumptions.
measure something by consequence? nonsensical?
not a soul, i imagine. not that matters.
the heart of the issue. accept nothing.
don't think i'll be scared. probably will.
moving on, masks become face, which is all faces anyway.
present moment not doing much of anything.
mostly nothing and trying for it (nothing) hard.
mostly phases or phase. as if one big phase.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
“What about chocolate?” she asked. “Light or dark?”
“I like dark,” I said smiling.
“I like light,” she said. “Milk.”
I kept thinking about all the friends I left behind moving up here. It was making me sad, and I was on a date, so I tried not to think about it, but that didn't work. I had a lot of friends back there.
“What about movies?” she asked. “Do you like dramas or comedies?”
“I kind of like horror the most.”
“Oh,” she said. “I like comedies.”
The date wasn't going so good. I started thinking about how weird it was, that all those people I hadn't seen in so long, two years now, were just right over there, to the left, way over all that land, living, doing whatever they did, eating dinner and checking the mail and watching TV, and I was sitting up here, missing them, and they were just right over there, alive.
“What about soda? Coke or Pepsi?”
“Pepsi,” I said.
“Coke,” she said. She sounded almost sad. Maybe she was missing her friends too. The date was going really bad. I started to think it was probably a bad idea, the two of us.
“Dogs or cats?” she asked.
“Cats,” I said.
“Me too!” she said. Most people picked dogs, but we both liked cats. She smiled. It seemed like the date was getting better.
“Winter or summer?”
“What about spring?”
“No,” she said. “Winter or summer?”
“Not fall either?”
“No,” she said.
I felt nauseous. Just when things were starting to go good, I thought.
“Summer,” I said.
“Winter,” she said. I'd been wrong again.
I drove her home down the mountain road. We smoked cigarettes and afterward I didn't like the taste in my mouth. It felt dusty and dry. She had a soda with her, a Coke, and I wanted to ask for a drink. But it was our first date, and I didn't know if that was okay. I tried to think of something to say, but I could only think about the way my mouth tasted. I decided I should stop smoking from now on. As we pulled up to her house, I couldn't stand it any more.
“Can I have a drink of your soda?” I asked.
She looked at me and she looked almost angry.
“I thought you liked Pepsi,” she said, and she shut the car door, taking the drink with her. I drove to a gas station and bought a Pepsi, which was very good. It wasn't as cold down in the city as it was up on the mountain. The date had gone as bad as it could go. We would not be seeing each other again.