i'm listening to Bach, the Mass in B Minor, to be specific. he is my favorite classical composer. his music sometimes makes me want to be a cat. i tried to figure that out once and decided that if i knew why, it wouldn't work that way any more, so i just let it be.
my favorite author is Richard Brautigan. i've been reading his works for almost forty years. i'm sure that, had we known each other, we probably would not have gotten along, but his words help me get along with myself. i couldn't ask much more of him than that, i suppose. his words, by the way, don't make me want to be a cat, nor any other animal, but do make me wish my eyes opened a bit wider. maybe one day.
i've not been surprised in a long time. that's probably my own fault, i think i've become too worldly to let myself be surprised. i try to invent surprises for myself, only once in a while, but they usually die a quick death on the vine before they work. i think it's like trying to tickle yourself, although i must admit that i've never tried that. it's probably a lot like jerking off, but let's not go there right now...
i'm tired of trying to be witty and cynical and quick. i really am. i think i need to let things go by me more often. the world is not hanging on my sense of humor. i'm not even hanging on it. i guess it's a way of not contending with the stark reality of things, of prying an once of humor out of a pound of grief. i need to learn to ignore things more. things in life are absurd enough, in their own right, without my lame attempts at wringing them dry. what was that line in that Springsteen song, something like "the poets down here don't write anything at all, they just stand back and let it all be.."? that's pretty sage stuff, really. silence speaks volumes...
i'm a dullard, and i like that. i think i would have made a good village idiot, had i the sense to have persued that line of work, although, modern society being what it is, i would probably spend my life being pestered by people wanting to make my life better, for some reason. that's an odd desire, isn't it? not wanting to be a village idiot, i mean, but the desire of people to try to make things better for those who they perceive are not as well off as they. that's what it's all about, isn't it? they don't want to make you better, they want to make you as good as they are, as if dragging some unfortunate up to their level of living makes it so much better. what makes their life so fucking great? if the local bum asks for a buck to get a cup of coffee, just give him (or her) a buck and move along. i doubt said bum wants to be enrolled in some social program, or be coddled or fussed over, just so you feel better about yourself. the world needs bums. they keep things in perspective, in balance, if you will. as long as they don't piss on the sidewalk. that's fucked up.
i'm going to take a break here and go drink a glass of beer. pilsner beer. i like pislner, probably more for the fact that you drink it from a pilsner glass than for the fact that it's pilsner to begin with, but it's not bad stuff. if you're reading this, go have a drink yourself and come on back in a while. i don't think i'm done yet. i might be, after the beer, but i won't know until then. i refuse to presuppose that drinking a beer will prevent me from writing more this evening, dammit. six or seven beers might, but i only have one. i had six, but drank them over the course of the past few days. maybe i should have saved them, but that would have taken forethought and guesswork that i would have wanted more than one tonight, when i wanted some earlier in the week. i don't plan ahead when it involves beer. i plan ahead when it involves vodka. but not beer.
i went outside for a bit while i was drinking my beer. it's still cold, but it's still, the wind has died down and it's nice. i saw a shooting star. (yeah, i know it's called a meteor these days, but i prefer that more romantic description, thank you.) that was the second one this week. the first one i saw early in the morning, well before sunrise. it grazed the western horizon, low and slow and was bright green. i relish treats like that, more so these days that i'm looking down the throat of the great void. i guess i'll end up as star dust myself one of these days. just my part in the endless cycle. i find that comforting.
i've shed Bach for the time being, opting now to listen to October Project. they don't make me feel like a cat. i don't know what they make me feel like, but i can get utterly lost in their music. Mary Fahl's voice is like nothing i could ever describe. it makes me want to dress in comfortable old clothes and discover all the secrets of candlelight and the story it tells in it's reflection in old polished wood... or the feel of turning the pages of old books. it makes me want to hold delicate glass things and worship something that only i know about and can't be explained... like the color of the world at twilight... like the lifetime that sometimes happens in a fleeting glance... it makes me want to wander...
and, dearest friends, time to wander i think it is... the Land of Nod beckons me from beyond the West, and i am called to the couch of dreams, where i shall rest my head upon the loving busom of the night and draw my fingers through the waters of sleep, to watch the endless ripples slowly move out and away, taking me with them where they will, till comes the dawning of the new day...
i've enjoyed our time together this night. thank you and fare thee well, fellow wanderers, fare thee well...
wander with me...
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