Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Waking Life

I keep thinking about something you said.

Something I said?


Yeah. About how you often feel like you're observing your life from the perspective of an old woman about to die. You remember that?


Yeah. I still feel that way sometimes. Like I'm looking back on my life. Like my waking life is her memories.


Exactly. I heard that Tim Leary said as he was dying that he was looking forward to the moment when his body was dead but his brain was still alive. You know they say that there's still six to twelve minutes of brain activity after everything else is shutdown. And a second of dream consciousness, right, well, that's infinitely longer than a waking second. You know what I'm saying?


Oh, yeah, definitely. For example, I wake up and it is 10:12, and then I go back to sleep and I have those long, intricate, beautiful dreams that seem to last for hours, and then I wake up and it's… 10:13.


Yeah, exactly. So then six to twelve minutes of brain activity, I mean, that could be your whole life. I mean, you are that woman looking back over everything.

- Waking Life








I open my eyes slowly.

I have stepped into wonderland.


I begin walking and I notice that there's a candle by my side slowly melting away. The flame flickers for what seems like a fleeting moment. It's odd though, for you see, the air is deathly still. I shiver and slowly turn around to take in the full view. Life as you know it. I begin my walk, and notice the candle again, hovering faithfully by my side, a silent commentary on the present. Existentialism personified one would say.


My thoughts are broken, they feel like still life images that stay in focus for a moment and then dissolve into the murky depths of my sub-conscious, all but forgotten. A memory that won't return, not until I resort to inebriating myself. To destroy the conscious, to strip that veiled layer of my mind with chemicals. A distant ringing in the back of my hollowed skull tells me that time is ticking and the wax, oh that soft shapeless wax, is melting. The flame flickers again.


Voices now flood the stream of thought, a crawling insect that I crushed lets out a silent wail of protest, the heat hums in a threating baritone as the leaves rustle and tease, they sound like the rain sometimes. The clouds make empty promises and never speak of them again. Time, that old and sometimes oppressive partner of mine, now seems to be having a conversation with the candle by my side. The candle seems to be listening, moved and shaped by the diktats that the oppressor lays down without mercy and without consent.


"If I melted time today,
There wouldn't be a tomorrow."


I turned and stared at the flame, the one that flickered and crackled in a raspy voice. It was ironic really, that this fragile flame had an ego. I silently laughed, and continued walking... Slowly becoming conscious of what I was seeing. It was a memory, of time that was distant and recent at the same time. The trees, the deer, the insects, the heat, the humming.... I knew this place.


A part of my brain suddenly went numb, boiling hot, but numb. I could feel the blood rushing to my head and the pressure building, rapidly, incessantly, but I was numb. The numbness started to spread, to my face, the left eye twitched, half my lip curled and locked itself into place. My head tilted to one side and I felt my tongue to stiff. Through this hell, all I could think of was the fact that I finally knew what the term passive aggressive meant. A voice in my head laughed, silently again, only this time, it was because a voice was a luxury I couldn't afford.


And then, I fell. The air slowly whistling past the one ear that could still feel... I watched the clear blue sky as I fell, a colour that I wouldn't know again. The trees, the deer, the insects, the heat, the humming... I could hear it all. Ain't life grand. The wind, which was dead until this moment, spoke. The last thing I saw, made me scream... The flame flickered, the flame died.


I open my eyes slowly.

I have stepped into wonderland.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

A conversation

I just want to scream… hello.

Speak to me.
Speak of things that matter.
Of life and of love,
Speak of things that move your world.

Tell me what makes you smile.
I’d like to smile along.
Take me on a ride,
It’s been too long.

It’s there, right there.
Inside me, inside everyone,
Welling up as the winds sigh
Before it drizzles in the sun.

Speak of the life you wish to lead
And the lives you’ve lead,
And I shall tell you of how I forget.
I forget too much too fast,
But it isn’t something I regret.

Do you know why?
Would you care to hazard a guess?
I get to live moments over and over again.
Every laugh, every caress.

I feel like a child sometimes,
Like an adolescent, who never grew up.
I smile whenever I think of it,
A child, beginning to see the big big world.
Now isn’t that something?
What do you feel like today?

I just want to scream… hello.

Monday, August 01, 2005

To Mukka

With taste like this, I can only wish I'd gotten to know you better. Here's to you.

I seem to recognize your face
Haunting, familiar, yet I can’t seem to place it
Cannot find the candle of thought to light your name
Lifetimes are catching up with me
All these changes taking place,
I wish I’d seen the place
But no one’s ever taken me
Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away...

I swear I recognize your breath
Memories like fingerprints are slowly raising
Me you wouldn’t recall, for
I’m not my former
It’s hard when you’re stuck upon the shelf
I changed by not changing at all, small town predicts my fate
Perhaps that’s what no one wants to see
I just want to scream...hello...
My God it’s been so long, never dreamed you’d return
But now here you are, and here I am
Hearts and thoughts they fade...away...

Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away...
Hearts and thoughts they fade...away...
Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away...
Hearts and thoughts they fade...

- Pearl Jam - Elderly woman behind the counter in a small town.


I just want to scream.... hello. Genius.
 

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