Tuesday, July 11, 2006

“A sudden or capricious idea”

You're bored. That's how it is, on and on, so on and so forth.

Look at me, look at you, look at us.

Look at the place where we’re standing; look at the places where we’ve been.
Look at the people that we know; look at the people who have long since moved on. Look at the sky when it’s bright blue; look at the sky when it turns pale gray. Look at the time of day; look at the time of night. Look at the ways that you’ve changed; look at the ways that you know you’re still the same. Look at the things that you know right now; look at the things that you have a chance to know sometime in the future.

Look at the memories.
Look at the now.

Look at the gifts that you’ve been given; look at the joy that you’ve been graced with. Look at the people who you wish would own your time; look at the people who you wish would leave you the fuck alone. Look at the sun when it wanes; look at the sun when it opens up the horizon. Look at the things that you want; look at the things that you know you can never have.

Look at the better.
Look at the worse.

Look at the crazy man who wanders around seeking change or violence; look at the way he sleeps and at the face he carries. Look at the ground moving beneath your feet; look at the ground when you’re standing still. Look at the veins pumping underneath your skin; look at the blood oozing out from that cut on your finger. Look at the way your breath steams up a window in the cold; look at the way the steam heats up your breath when you’ve made it hot. Look at the flesh; look at the bone.

Look at the people you’ve built up.
Look at the people you’ve laid bare.

Look at faces that you know you’ll always remember; look at the faces that vanish into the crowd. Look at the fish swimming in the Adriatic sea; look at the animals running across the dry land of the Serengeti. Look at our modern tendency to make haste; look at all the waste that the haste leaves in its wake. Look at the times where you felt a cool breeze chilling the sweat that gathered on your back; look at the times where the exertion you put forth made the sweat exist in the first place.

Look at the moments where it all seems clear.
Look at the vast stretches of time where nothing ever seems to make sense.

Look at those that you love with everything you have and more; look at those who you hate with a seething derision that seems as if it were endless. Look at the spittle gathering in the corners of your mouth; look at phlegm that you just hacked out onto a tissue. Look at the dreams; look at the realities. Look at the Earth; look at the space around the Earth.

Look at the Mondays.
Look at the Fridays.

Look at the words written by the wise and the knowing; look at the words of the young and the foolish. Look at the books that right now clutter up your desk without being read; look at the books that clutter up your mind after you read them over and over again.

Look at your being alive.
Look at the everything and the nothing of the world.

Look at your life.


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