Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Stings
I feel bad for Death and Tom tonight, each one ran into their own obstacle and took a hit. I feel bad for my friends. They try hard to be good guys and to keep things going, but there is something keeping each one of them stuck. Who says that we have to be ambitious? Who says that we have to make lots of money? These guys just want some good pals and a bit of love. But even the smallest amount of desire to get a girl or to get comfortable can sting you. "To be happy at home is the ultimate result of all ambition." - Dr. Samuel Johnson, The Rambler (1750)
So Death's tire blew and Tom's patience is gone. On my end, I feel like a chess player who dreads the next few moves, but is happy with the past couple. I don't always view life as a game. There is just a gentle anxiety building up lately, a totally useless but significant feeling. The wrong moves will hurt me. The competition against the threat of nature is grating on my nerves.
The highlight of today was a ferocious blast of lightning that struck a tree less than a block from my work. It's cooler thanks to the rain. Also, the days have seemed shorter due to the cloud cover. My hopes are mixed. I want summer to end early for a few reasons, and I want inevitability to be stifled for other ones.
A few days ago there was a kind glance sent my way at the shop. Babbling and dramatically played-out customer service sparked it off. I must have come off as insane but didn't intend to. It's always beautiful though when an atmosphere of uptightness melts away. "..I hope that people understand you, and hope that you don't change." - Nick, long ago. I think that guy realized how I felt. I simply didn't want to fall in line. If I enjoyed people turning their heads, it was due to their surprise, not my vanity.
It reminds me of the long-haired, braces-installed, funky fruitcake plaid-shirted, "live in the present, yet not necessarily in reality" past version of myself. In a sense, living in the past or future, with too much worry or too much introversion - that's far flung from reality as well. If you go too far, you'll realize how much time you're wasting.. how much you're eating away at yourself. It's not glamourous. It's not freshman girl syndrome.
Thinking about something earlier this month.. It was beautiful in ways when I walked through the skeleton of my ash-covered old room. There were no walls, you could see from one side of the house to the other.
So Death's tire blew and Tom's patience is gone. On my end, I feel like a chess player who dreads the next few moves, but is happy with the past couple. I don't always view life as a game. There is just a gentle anxiety building up lately, a totally useless but significant feeling. The wrong moves will hurt me. The competition against the threat of nature is grating on my nerves.
The highlight of today was a ferocious blast of lightning that struck a tree less than a block from my work. It's cooler thanks to the rain. Also, the days have seemed shorter due to the cloud cover. My hopes are mixed. I want summer to end early for a few reasons, and I want inevitability to be stifled for other ones.
A few days ago there was a kind glance sent my way at the shop. Babbling and dramatically played-out customer service sparked it off. I must have come off as insane but didn't intend to. It's always beautiful though when an atmosphere of uptightness melts away. "..I hope that people understand you, and hope that you don't change." - Nick, long ago. I think that guy realized how I felt. I simply didn't want to fall in line. If I enjoyed people turning their heads, it was due to their surprise, not my vanity.
It reminds me of the long-haired, braces-installed, funky fruitcake plaid-shirted, "live in the present, yet not necessarily in reality" past version of myself. In a sense, living in the past or future, with too much worry or too much introversion - that's far flung from reality as well. If you go too far, you'll realize how much time you're wasting.. how much you're eating away at yourself. It's not glamourous. It's not freshman girl syndrome.
Thinking about something earlier this month.. It was beautiful in ways when I walked through the skeleton of my ash-covered old room. There were no walls, you could see from one side of the house to the other.
Jean-Louis 1:53 AM