Originally aired: 23rd June 2005
You know, I am not sure at what point you start this… you end up here. In front of an odd computer in a strangely familiar house. Planning. Hoping. The thoughts are rising, these moments won’t be hidden for long. I think that one of the reasons I hesitate to do THIS… start THIS… and what THIS is to me… is that of all people who don’t know me that I don’t care about… it is the ones that do I am concerned for. They will find moments of ideas in my eyes that will drive them mad, and push them far away. And everyone I know always thought I was cutting edge because I said all the odd things I think. Unfortuanately, those are just the things I say. The things upstairs are those relatives you need to keep locked and hidden for one reason or another…. these ideas put a stain on the family name?
Too dramatic for you? Too much? Too self-servingly “whoah’s me” for the beginning of a book? I have had a brilliant, thorough, vastly and varied existence. Happy is one of the first words that comes to mind. Is that a place in time, a way to be, or an underlying quality to someone who has lived through tragic sequences like anyone else… but gets through because the base core is still where it started, and happy doesn’t change. The difference in letting your experiences define you as a human, or a victim.
I will never be a victim…but then what shall I be?
It should be noted that I wanted to start this quite viscerally… chit chatting about how odd those thoughts are that we don’t act on unless we are sociopaths…. throwing babies, tossing old people on their sides. It makes me wonder what steps need to be taken to have someone cross that line. But, alas, that isn’t the speed at which we can approach things on this sort of time line. Those things shall be discussed — the manic turmoil that is processed from such a calm, orderly universe. Why does it feel like there is solely pressure on me? Or you? Or an individual? And what of it?
I want to speak about passionate, exhalted love making… about saving turtle’s lives, turning people onto logic… altering history, falling into someone’s moment in time that didn’t want you (kicking and screaming) but then they won’t let you leave (kicking and screaming). Being part of the lifeforce that moves us all…. that organic, memetic existence that keeps us as vehicles for the ideas that outlive us. To be part of that, to be a formative aspect that cannot be forgotten… whether for the good or bad or high or low….
But what is life really? Artistic numskullery masquerading as something with legitimate literary importance? Not likely… The words I use and say don’t go anywhere in the real world… which is why we all feel trapped and alone in this odd time.
Dreams are quite lovely, but never quite exist outside the mind… and cannot exist in a way; as soon as you relate that moment of the dream, the real words retard and torture that memory so that it no longer exists…. and the beauty of it fades in torturous recognition that life fades this way too. Sometimes, it can never be as beautiful as it really is. The words take a bit to form.
I wanted to start this melancholy ramble with something deeper than what is shuffling along this mortal moment of my mind….
But you know what I really have going on in my head right now. I cannot get past the fact that it takes me a long time to balance my checkbook, and I know that there is something I am missing. I forgot a receipt or something. I have to run some errands, make sure to do the traffic school videos, check on some appointments….
So… the epic and sweeping grandiosity of life again dies through the mundane visors of pragamatism. I didn’t want to worry about these things. It is simply the way it is. You have to work, you have to fight the cycle, etc…
But let’s start on that point… let’s see if we cannot find our way here to let us move forward to where I am supposed to be. I think that is why this is all happening. Why did I start to fight the cycle? Did I? What happened to make me quit my job, move from my house, start traveling with my dogs… and forgo the solid and relatively secure future I had pragmatically orchestrated to fit my life….
But not my idiom.
Damn idiom.
Life falls apart… death… smiles and laughter… the swings of a swooning existence… and I am bugged because I forgot what gas station I left a receipt at.
Can we detach.. ever… without death? I don’t think so. But I recently heard some good advice…
“As long as you don’t set your head on fire, everything will be alright.”
Until then, let’s choose to learn some more terrible things about me… like the things you wouldn’t even remind the people involved, that they were involved. It is better sometimes to be able to forget. And even if you can’t, it is better to be proud and strong and brave and leave those people alone.
I am not better than them, however. So, names have not been changed, and fuck you… it is just the way things happened.
I will promise to be a hell of a lot more vague too.
Err… wait. If you are still reading, I promise that was a poorly placed, self-effacing sardonic joke. I know I am anything but specific. But hopefully you can pull and think of it what you like.
In place of glibness, I hope to write a thoughtful treatise on why I need to start writing all this. And I promise to attempt to justify your time, your moment… in doing this.
Every moment your eyes glide past these words…. each shift of the ocular muscle, rods and cones controlling the shadows and colors… there is a little less. The energy drives out. It just depends if those moments are justified in our existence.
I assure you, it has been that case in mine. Let’s start with a baby Mike. Why? Everyone else does, and I am still not sure I am hip enough to do a Tarantino turn around starting in three spots and coming back into the middle.
Maybe I already have? Maybe, I need to place this story in the future so I can be in three different places… instead of presently retroactively thinking about one.
Hmmmm… now the thoughts are really going. Me at 70? Can I look at him? Time paradoxes aside… they say quantum mechanics might have room for stable paradoxes in time travel… (if it were really possible).
And it is you that I am losing. So….
STOP TALKING TO THE AUDIENCE AND GET ON WITH IT!
Cheers…. good day to you!
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