Sunday Morning Thoughts 4.8.12: A Manifesto of Sorts

This part was written on a train heading south as I gazed out the window at the Harlem River on Saturday afternoon:

 

I imagine that all of this will be under water someday, maybe even in my life time and then I could go down and swim around my memories as they stay frozen in time and floating around where they used to be. If it doesn’t go under water, my next guess is fire which would mean that these places would only live in my head and who knows if I could even remember that far. The North American Venice will finally be clean, even if it has to be destroyed.

Or perhaps even better yet it will all become overgrown and green and life will choke us out like we’ve been doing to it all these years. These massive beautiful rocks covered in stone all perfectly lined up in a grid. Thousands of years from now whatever dominant conscious species is around will wonder whether it was nature or god or aliens who did it.

 

This part was written heading north the next day. I was exhausted and hungover and heartbroken and late to go spend the rest of the day with my family. I suppose you could say I was a little bummed out:

 

Isn’t it beautiful? There’s so much to see and within my tiny little realm of things, I think that I’ve got it down which is ridiculous because I’m an hour late for my whole life flashing past me and it doesn’t matter what I’d do to make it better because it’s gone. I saw it walk down the street at five in the morning wearing the same fucking jacket that this whole nonsense started with. Cheers.

But other than that, my back hurts and my breath smells. I wish I could fall out of this flesh but I seem to be stuck in it with this absurd identity

But really Brian, who are you fooling? This is the tragedy that you’ve always wanted for yourself. Hope is for suckers anyway. You wouldn’t know what to do so you should just sit here and beat and rag on yourself until you start to believe all this.   This isn’t romantic so would you stop pretending it is and blow out the fucking candles. This conversation was doomed to end and it makes sense and I could only imagine that it’s relieving, and not as an insult, but I suppose I should be grateful as I could have very easily kept going for a bit longer, to the end of time at the very least. See all the absolutes in my speech? I wish there was a way to convince anyone of the power there but I can’t seem to stumble upon one.

 

Across the aisle from me staring out at the other side of this train, sits a very beautiful young lady that I will never know. I could very easily get up and try to start some conversation with her and probably have some success with it but I never will. She will never know me and her I and that’s just the way it’s going to be.

 

She just got up and will be getting off and I did nothing to stop her.

 

This part was written on Monday at around 6:30pm:

This will be the last time that I do this, I promise. Pardon me but I have to finish the ritual properly and after all I suppose this is owed. Don’t worry, I won’t whine. I’ll be trying to say something meaningful and pretty and powerful. Better yet, I won’t even try. I’ll just do it.

Understand that I have felt anything real in a long time so the words that I may have said out loud were not so eloquent but I suppose the booze is partially to blame. I can no longer be sad nor upset nor anything in that spectrum of emotion. I can be numb but I’ve had enough of that too. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I’ll be happy because I won’t be.

I saw the sunrise this morning. It’s getting close to setting now and I may sneak outside to watch it because this isn’t ready yet. I don’t have my mind set to do what needs to be done with this and like I said, this one is important.

 

This was written after the sunset:

 

Such beautiful hues of red and orange and blue, they tear at my heart and I wouldn’t want it to be any other way. I have of course seen thousands of sunsets and many that were much more beautiful than this one.

That being said, I would like to make a statement about something although exactly what is unknown and unimportant right now because it has yet to be said. It’s importance will be determined by you at the end of this and may very well remain a mystery to me.

I have been told by many people, some who matter to me a lot and some who don’t matter as much, that I have something about me that is special or different or unique and sets me aside from the other sheep. I am apparently very capable of doing something grand and spectacular in this world that will contribute to some sort of greater good. It’s gotten to the point that I now know that I really have no choice in the matter. I have to do these things because that is my destiny or fate or something like that. It would be a lot of pressure if these things didn’t come with such ease.

So listen to me muse, just this one last time and know that you are stuck forever in my mind. That’s not to say things will continue, as I know they won’t. The last few years have taught me more about myself than I could even realize at this point in time and I may not ever realize it until all is said and done and my last breath slips from my lungs and I fade into darkness. I could very easily say that the time is wasted but that would be a horrible lie and I just wouldn’t feel right saying it. It wasn’t a waste, it was a painfully beautiful experience filled with memories that will ring through my mind for eternity and possibly after. I now have an obligation to continue forward and do even more than I’ve done, which despite what people say has been so much less than I could. I’ll have to stop that, you know, this whole under achiever thing.

We live in a time where virtue easily gets lost in greed and hate and depression. 64 people were killed fighting other people in Yemen today and 22 more died when the roof fell in on their church in Nigeria. Their god couldn’t save them but a better architect could have. So it goes.

Why say that? I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know any of those people but I’m sure each of them had someone who loved them. Regardless of anything I say they will continue to be dead and I will continue, at least for now, to be alive, which is a gift that I overlook every second of the day. I won’t tell you that I will start to value my life so much more now that I’ve stated how fragile it is because like I told you, I don’t want to lie.

I will now proclaim my intentions as I yelled out into streets at 5am Easter morning. I will take over my world and do with it what I believe to be right and this of course, means that I will have to try and take over the entire world. I will get mad and sad and feel defeated as I throw my hat on the ground wishing that by doing so, some sort of energy would be released into the universe to correct all that is wrong. This won’t work because I have tried and it didn’t and it doesn’t and I don’t imagine it ever will. That doesn’t mean such a task cannot be done because it can and will. It is so easy to lose faith in what it good and true and I don’t mean that nonsense that me in collars ramble about on Sunday mornings. I mean the nonsense that I ramble about on Sunday mornings. There is no church for me and no god besides this right here.

I don’t ask anything of you other than to give reading my words a chance. If they bore you or make you sad, then please by all means stop right here because you should have stopped a long time ago. But if upon reading anything I have ever written, you felt something or had a thought that you believe to have had any kind of meaning then trust that idea and take it with you and let it grow. Believe it or not when I was about 13, I was fairly certain that I would become a priest. What a long way I have come in these few years but I didn’t want to do that so I could control peoples live and never pay taxes. I thought I wanted it because then every week I would get to send any kind of message that I felt needed to be said for the benefit of all those people there to listen. Good ol’ Father Sears.

 

This was written at 9:26am on Tuesday April 10, 2012 which will be the first day of my life:

 

I have a lot of work to do and I had best get cracking. I’ll get some coffee and go pretend to be someone’s lover until about 11:30. Then I’ll get lunch with my best friend and the only girl I know will never break my heart. After that, it’s on to the rest of the world and with my head held high I will stand before all that is wrong and unjust and make it right. It won’t be easy and you can try to help but after all this time I’ve come to understand there this burden of mine that I carry, is just that. It is my burden and although I’m sure many people will try to tell me that I don’t have to go it alone, they will never understand why I do. I won’t try to explain it because I’ve really gone on long enough but this mission will come with me to the grave that I will rot it whether I finish it or not. I don’t know when that day will be, you know, the day I become worm food. It could be tomorrow, it could be right now before this sentence is even finish, it could be next week or thirty years or one hundred years.

Regardless of when it is, when that short film of all the greatest hits of my life plays before me as my eyes close for the last time, I will see you just as I did as a sad teenage boy on the happiest day of my life. But I am no longer a boy, am I?

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