Friday, December 19, 2014

December 19, 2014



December 19, 2014

Life is not hard, but the air is pretty thin.  I can’t see the sunshine due to the clouds, but I know it is up there somewhere.   And I know she’s around as well, I just… well, can’t see her at the moment.   Nevertheless I wrote her a letter, but damn, I remember I don’t have the address.  Being silly, I just mailed it out and put my address on it.   Sometimes I feel like I’m playing a role, but without a script and no clear direction.  “Acting is the ability to dream on cue.” I’m just looking for that sign to start performing.



  I'm kind of nervous being on stage, because I can’t see the audience or the floorboards.   I do things blindly.  “Singing is a way of escaping.  It’s another world. I’m no longer on earth.” Often I don’t feel I belong here.  Nothing is familiar, nothing is there, because she’s not here.   Therefore where am I?

I want to peel the orange, but the juices run down my chin.  I bite the skin, and tear it off gently, to make sure I get at the very least its nutrients.  “To achieve harmony in bad taste is the height of elegance.” Whenever I eat anything messy, I always put on my best suit on.   I’m honest in that sense.  A performance is honesty at work.  “The most precious things in speech are pauses.” It is what she doesn’t say, that rings so loudly in my ears and heart.   Therefore in honesty, she just not being here, speaks volumes to me.  



My head is the place where my home is.  Because this physical existence is not happening right now.  When I walk the streets, everyone looks at me like I’m past-tense.   I avoid the reflections, because it’s too painful, to watch my demise.  It is better to walk through a glass door, then opening it.   I have seen the flowers that are offered by the street vendor, and I know they were pulled out of the earth quite violently.  I can’t give those flowers as a gift, with that much tension attached to it.  It doesn’t seem right.  But then, when you’re at the end of the street, what does it matter anymore?



I’m at the edge of the world, and I haven’t even left the bedroom.   The heavy curtains are drawn.  No light and no safety lights to lead me to an exit.   I hear the echo of my voice as I scream down the hallway, and there is nothing more profound when nothing is there.   I go back to bed.  I go back to that world.  “A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness. ”  As I understand it, "you see things less clearly when you open your eyes too wide."
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