I sat outside just now. The sun is setting. Although this is advertised as something for a rising sun, I cannot help when the natural urge to write comes and finds me every Sunday. Hell, sometimes it’s Monday. I even think I did one on Thursday once. I am a man of the West, so sunset will always do.
No matter. I sat outside and thought about my life as a span thus far. I tried to see it as one thing that encompasses the idea of a singular being among all these other singular beings. I started there and thought of people and time passing. I thought about this summer. And then I thought about the last. I thought about all the years in school and the people that were there. I remember a person a few years back in high school, who I consider responsible for opening my mind from being so closed. I haven’t seen him in two years. Last time I saw him, I had never been to Iona College. I had never been to Bay Ridge. I had never done stand up. I was a virgin. I had just gotten my copy of On The Road. I was ready to run into the world. He showed me a new way to think and then disappeared somewhere off into the universe. It may be two miles away. It could be on Jupiter. I really think he was capable of anything.
Then I thought about next summer. And then I thought about the summer after that, the summer of 2013 (if the world doesn’t end before that). But… that isn’t really a summer. That’s life. Come May 2013, it’s the real world for good and it would seem as though a Mayan predicted apocalypse could be the only thing stopping that.
So how is life? Is it worth living? Or is it all just a load of shit that kind of dampers off until it goes out very quietly? I don’t know if you actually know or not, but I figure it’s worth asking because if you’ve never even thought about it, maybe now you will. And who knows? Maybe you’re the one who’s supposed to figure this all out and my place was to just send that thought into your mind. Or maybe I’m the one who’s destined to find some answer or the answer or any answer? Who knows? I suppose if it were either you or I, when the time came, understanding of the fate would become clear. I’ve been told that’s how that works. I could be wrong though.
I have been fighting the urge to look at anything I’ve been writing in the hope that it will allow me to just keep the train of thought going without any type of break or interruption. It’s actually working quite nicely, although I have cheated and looked up a few times. It’s cool to see all the colors that spell check makes on the page. Unintentional art, I suppose. In the effort to control, it has created new beauty, if properly interoperated.
I do feel like there is control in my life, just not mine. I don’t feel as though I’m the wielder of my fate and that doesn’t sit well. I get by with few hiccups, but there is that feeling. It’s what keeps me in bed and away from the day. It’s what chokes my mind and makes me feel slow. But I say fuck it. I say fuck the self help book because even if it’s true that the guy has actually achieved enlightenment, it’s no good to anyone else. Don’t you see that his path will never work for yours? It’s only his; it might as well be a story. In fact, it should be. I’d much rather read about some mental breakdown that leads to this surreal sense of life and after hanging out on park benches, fights crime or something like that.
I don’t mean to shoot down the idea, but I am. But I want to do it respectfully, I suppose. Actually, no I don’t. I am on my path to enlightenment and that requires a heavy amount of not giving a fuck. It’s a level that I have yet to achieve, which explains the woes accompanied by a wandering mind. But some day I shall reach the glorious horizon. Perhaps not in this life, but it shall be met.
Do you hear me? I say to you now, that I will not be tossed into the realm of existence to wallow around in confused delusion. I will rise above all that weighs me down and my soul will be free. I shall do this, even if something like this can’t be done. If it is impossible, then I will just have to go on for eternity. I may see you again at some point between now and the end of time. I would be pretty cool for that kid from two summers ago to be around again. Both of them.
Doesn’t make sense? Well, I guess it wouldn’t. Sound pretty though, doesn’t it? And like all pretty things, it is fleeting from sight and sense. It will dull and die, I suppose eventually. I’d like to have a run at fighting that though.