Okay.
So im not preaching as much as im taking it all in and
regurgitating chewed food mess back onto the kitchen floor. And you’re down
there taking it all in.
Im sick. Not talking, really just moving my jaws lazily up
and down as I watch thoughts pass through the spaces between teeth. Getting
lost and distracted as they float on the currents of warm air drifting
through my bathroom— yes,
my bathroom has its own weather patterns, which include hurricanes, tornadoes, droughts,
and floods. Im sitting on the plastic toilet seat observing their slow, smooth
movements. Like grape jelly filmed splattering against a white wall in
slow-motion. Like it all made sense. But it never makes sense.
Nonsense: without logic; void of meaning.
Still, it feels important to capture and package these
thoughts for food into plastic vacuum sealed containers. Preserved morsels of
the past to be enjoyed at a later date.
I think im going crazy, but we all tend to second guess
ourselves when we’re in the process of “losing it.”
Am I going crazy?
No. But I guess I have to pass some assessment. Because
everyone has a voice, which means everyone has an opinion.
I am feeling fuzzy, like Im in a daze languidly exploring
the parameters of this comment box with reckless abandon. And it’s dark and rocky
like an underground cave or a concrete pipeline. I feel like I will either fall
into a hole or discover a room decorated with gigantic crystals at any second.
I will go to bed tonight after witnessing a cigarette
self-embalming itself (the ancient Japanese practice: sokushinbutsu), which is
why it takes me three days to process the messages posted on/in my digital
space.
But, for argument’s sake, Im sick, which is why Im taking it
all in, and regurgitating chewed food mess back onto the floor—not preaching—but you’re still down there
taking it all in, eating partially digested fragments of space and matter. So
what does that make you?
It’s an interesting question to pose.
Who are you? And why do you care about me?
I thought it was en vogue to stay 50 feet away from anyone
with any kind of disease, ranging from the common cold all the way to cancer,
no?
And it feels like our breaths’ importance is equal in really
cold weather, which is why they reveal their physical appearance, instead of
remaining invisible.
Snot dripping from our noses. Cheeks red and chaffed. This notion
will remain true ad infinitum.
Just like the notion that I could have done something more productive
on my day off like learning how to play an instrument, depositing other people’s
money in my bank account, or shoveling the backyard clear of snow so my
neighbors could really understand the beauty of a well-cut lawn.
Oh well.
