(4:45 AM) Inkling Deficiencies Notwithstanding...

-
 [PART III] 

Time flies when you revise a single stupid sentence twenty-seven times. I’m kidding. I don’t keep track of how many times I revise a single sentence, whether stupid or smart. Talk about true madness! If I ever get to that point, swear you’ll have me committed. Pinky swear. But if you happen upon a clean and tastefully padded room, with a clear view of a nudists beach, I might be up for that. 

People I know woke up forty-five minutes ago for work. Some of these people, I’d like to know better, but doubt I ever will, seeing that I avoid them now. Which brings us back to fear. 

And by now, the coffee’s likely cooled off. Which means I won’t have to pour in too much “French” vanilla creamer. For what little it’s worth (which is very likely less than a tenth of a penny) I simply cannot stand the taste of “French” fat-free creamer. No, I’ve got to use the “French” fat-full creamer… 

Damn, just poured in too much damn creamer… 

That the sun’s rising, what has that to do with my nose’s running? Is the discharge of nasal mucus—not unlike the tides—affected by the respective gravitational pulls of the moon and the sun on the Earth? If so, how is that relevant? 

But then what is relevant
to a single stone
on Pluto? 

What is relevant 
to a single stone 
anywhere? 

Yes, 
stones are relevant 
to creatures of all sorts, 
but what, 
if anything, 
is relevant to 
the stone 
itself? 

What might be relevant to a stone? 
Does a stone yearn to be a boulder? 
A pebble? 
Does it yearn to instigate an avalanche? 
Does a stone yearn at all? 
Can it? 
Can we disprove 
that a stone 
yearns 
for nothing? 

It’s absurd, of course, 
but what makes you think 
you aren’t? 
And, 
please, 
that is not to suggest 
that I am any less 
absurd. 

15 June 2005 

Popular posts from this blog

SHUSH

-
Along with the stomping freak who uses the flipside of my ceiling as a floor, the folks with whom I share walls cannot tolerate silence. No, they must blast on repeat any of Billboard’s Year-End Hot 100 singles of 2000 through their respective stereo’s speakers. This, in turn, forces me to blast all of my much less popular music to drown theirs out. It becomes a vicious circle of escalating sound. And perhaps the very point of loud music is to drown out all thought, fear, and pain. These days, who can bear to sit quietly and ponder life—let alone read a book? Indeed, the folks in this city—and perhaps the folks in every city—seemingly do whatever they can to stifle the natural inclination to think. At least, that is my impression. After all, the act of thought —the very act of reflection —necessarily slows production and consumption. And we mustn’t have that, no, no. Besides, we need not contemplate our lack of fulfillment or our actual worthlessness if we are too busy playing video ...
Read more

Ginny

-
10/24/2001 : Would you believe I was standing beneath the lit marquee of the Music Box Theater this evening, reading an Emily Dickinson chapbook? I was, but I was doing a poor job of it. And, no, I wasn’t there specifically to read poetry. But I might’ve been the first dude to read Dickinson at that particular location. And, no, I wasn’t reading it aloud. * In fairness (to me), I hadn’t thought to read it aloud. I bring a book or a magazine along wherever I go, just in case it rains. Gotta have something to hold open over my head. Can’t have a sudden shower muck up my carefully sculpted helmet of hair. And if I want something to read, I’ll take an umbrella. But seriously, it’s all about the waiting. If city life doesn’t cultivate patience, then it definitely cultivates insanity. If I find myself waiting (anywhere) beyond the walls of my apartment without something to read, I’ll end up gazing at the passersby, instead. They might gaze back. They won’t smile, though. Never mind if ...
Read more

S T R E A M # 3 0

-
Start: The dog did not enjoy the tuna casserole, and by “dog” I do not mean Sally’s pet collie, I means Sally’s husband, Al. When we stop to think about the things that do not matter – which is something we often do – then, when the time comes, we check our watches and eat our respective tuna casseroles. We eat the tuna casseroles because we know Grandma would be sad if we did not. Thus, or hence, or hence-thus, the problem becomes one of consumption. Finally, the problem is ALWAYS one of consumption. What do you think about Al’s dilemma with the tuna casserole? Beets are enjoyed by cats in the winter when strawberries are not in bloom. DO strawberries bloom? No. Yes? No. I wouldn’t know. I am not a strawberry farmer. Who told you otherwise? Who led you astray? And why would you believe his or hers or their words over mine? What I feel the next time we meet when you are not sad with happiness in the tuna casserole. I haven’t – I couldn’t tell you about the last time I ate apple sauce i...
Read more