Gotta go home brother
May 25th 2007 19:50
I have a man I know who tries to narrate his existence.
He has two friends over and he tries to take them on an existence, he flirts whith existence as he has learned a new game whith which he feels good to share. he knows not if he plays with fire, perhaps he doesn't. but we know that he doesn't know either way. Instead he plays with his toy, the toy of sharing, as he hassto.
I know how he tries to narrate himself, for privilege is his game. He checks the spelling on privlidge.org. He has an arm, that's for sure, but what is it. Lets try.
He tells them how to get to the bathroom, but he knows that they wil find it hard, because it is long and it is dark, and it twist just enough to give you the slightest push that its the wrong way, it is a gentle push and sometimes you question if it was the right decision you made. Nonetheless to be guided to the bathroom is too much for them, so they go it alone. After taking too much in and exploring too much, he comments inscessantly, he thinks he is communicating.
After they leave, he travels down his well known path to the bathroom. He knows where to step lightly, he knows when you can take liberty with your steps, he does not know if the light is on, for he does not bother his eyes, hands ever so lightly oh slightly i'm freightened he brightly runs his hands along the wall, for he feels it, it is his guide. The handle requires a jolt, and the consequences of that are further modernised as the light flashes to come on, his mind bounces in rythm and he's not sure if he is techno or african drumming.
When his point returns, he considers his journey. Down the hall for him was enjoyable, known, welcome, perhaps proto-creative, in no way novel. only maybe novelly novel in a novel way to the most miniscule degree that it is only a sidetrack to talk about it. Anyways, He compares that to his friends' path down the hall. Disturbing, scary, dark, not evil but unlight. He thinks about his own journey. He gropes for a guide, but all he has is guide posts. Won't somebody talk to him? won't somebody talk to him? won't somebody experince with him? He tries to drag friends into it. He makes knew friends who seem to want it. But he knows he is on the unknown path. And he knows that he has rejected his guide. He knows he is at the little twist. it pushes. it pushes. it pushes against him in a way that he had not yet realised he had been being pushed. But he starts to feel it heavily in brief flashes, but wen he looks around he has shattered its existence, so he learns to ignore. Until it pushes and he sees it for its final goal. He transcends but does not know where he is. He gropes around in the dark, his room is a mess and he knows it, what's wrong with mess? he hasn't had time to answer it. It surely can't matter until we know, and there's much better things to find out. He lands he is running. He is running because he remembers his first line and now he is landing. he lands smoothly, still running, still feeling the weightlessness he is still lighter as he runs with his feet on the ground. He smiles one last time. He smiles in his cheek because he knows how not to get disappointed, he knows he was just up in the air. But only because he didn't know it. And now that he knows it he isn't flying anymore. He can still jump around. He can laugh. He remembers the dark parts. He's walking slowly to the terminal. He breathes in the air on the walkway. It's still a bit different, but he has truly landed, things are bright and no-one wants to destroy anything, you have flashes, you see advertising, you are getting further into the terminal. You start to formulate systems, strategise where you will wait for your bag. Use your godly powers of persuasion to try to make your bag come out at the beginning. You know your journey is really over, but you know at least that you flew. You don't really remember what that experience is, but you that its meant to be one of the good ones. So that's good I guess. Back home. You must land. Always. Not to eat, not to shit. You just need to go home for a second. Its good to touch in. Enjoy it and see you on the other side.
He has two friends over and he tries to take them on an existence, he flirts whith existence as he has learned a new game whith which he feels good to share. he knows not if he plays with fire, perhaps he doesn't. but we know that he doesn't know either way. Instead he plays with his toy, the toy of sharing, as he hassto.
I know how he tries to narrate himself, for privilege is his game. He checks the spelling on privlidge.org. He has an arm, that's for sure, but what is it. Lets try.
He tells them how to get to the bathroom, but he knows that they wil find it hard, because it is long and it is dark, and it twist just enough to give you the slightest push that its the wrong way, it is a gentle push and sometimes you question if it was the right decision you made. Nonetheless to be guided to the bathroom is too much for them, so they go it alone. After taking too much in and exploring too much, he comments inscessantly, he thinks he is communicating.
After they leave, he travels down his well known path to the bathroom. He knows where to step lightly, he knows when you can take liberty with your steps, he does not know if the light is on, for he does not bother his eyes, hands ever so lightly oh slightly i'm freightened he brightly runs his hands along the wall, for he feels it, it is his guide. The handle requires a jolt, and the consequences of that are further modernised as the light flashes to come on, his mind bounces in rythm and he's not sure if he is techno or african drumming.
When his point returns, he considers his journey. Down the hall for him was enjoyable, known, welcome, perhaps proto-creative, in no way novel. only maybe novelly novel in a novel way to the most miniscule degree that it is only a sidetrack to talk about it. Anyways, He compares that to his friends' path down the hall. Disturbing, scary, dark, not evil but unlight. He thinks about his own journey. He gropes for a guide, but all he has is guide posts. Won't somebody talk to him? won't somebody talk to him? won't somebody experince with him? He tries to drag friends into it. He makes knew friends who seem to want it. But he knows he is on the unknown path. And he knows that he has rejected his guide. He knows he is at the little twist. it pushes. it pushes. it pushes against him in a way that he had not yet realised he had been being pushed. But he starts to feel it heavily in brief flashes, but wen he looks around he has shattered its existence, so he learns to ignore. Until it pushes and he sees it for its final goal. He transcends but does not know where he is. He gropes around in the dark, his room is a mess and he knows it, what's wrong with mess? he hasn't had time to answer it. It surely can't matter until we know, and there's much better things to find out. He lands he is running. He is running because he remembers his first line and now he is landing. he lands smoothly, still running, still feeling the weightlessness he is still lighter as he runs with his feet on the ground. He smiles one last time. He smiles in his cheek because he knows how not to get disappointed, he knows he was just up in the air. But only because he didn't know it. And now that he knows it he isn't flying anymore. He can still jump around. He can laugh. He remembers the dark parts. He's walking slowly to the terminal. He breathes in the air on the walkway. It's still a bit different, but he has truly landed, things are bright and no-one wants to destroy anything, you have flashes, you see advertising, you are getting further into the terminal. You start to formulate systems, strategise where you will wait for your bag. Use your godly powers of persuasion to try to make your bag come out at the beginning. You know your journey is really over, but you know at least that you flew. You don't really remember what that experience is, but you that its meant to be one of the good ones. So that's good I guess. Back home. You must land. Always. Not to eat, not to shit. You just need to go home for a second. Its good to touch in. Enjoy it and see you on the other side.
| 20 |
| Vote |
Subscribe to this blog
Comment by Denergo
Next Step
Anyways, i just wanted to say that the image of being pushed in a very light way that makes you change your mind on your own, because its a nice persuasion, and where that can lead if it escalates and you continue to push is an image that i have not been able to get out of my head for the past few days, I saw it in Akira Kurosawa's Dreams (Yume). It's the third clip and its really quite a meaningful image, if not only beautiful. Good stuff.