2012年2月14日 Structures

Yesterday someone told me that a person should be happy when they have security and a structured life. I'm always amazed to hear this from atheists or religious extremists. Sometimes no matter what the structure is it doesn't make us happy, even though at times it does here or there. I would associate that "here or there" feeling with pleasure, which means it constantly has to be refreshed. Pleasure is always fleeting and never accommodates the depth of quiet contemplation, or dialog reflecting on the past.

***

I remember several trips to zoos and parks. Days that were supposed to be meaningful. Sometimes there was pleasure, but when I think about those times I don't really feel anything. With other instances yes, but of course it was a totally different feeling to begin with. Dates I went on, at least the ones I can remember, didn't have the depth that other, simpler things in life had. 

Long conversations with Dapl, or rather long monologues (6+ hours) from Dapl as he sat on the couch drinking. Sauna talk with Fozzjnen, drunkin'-chess-fight-clubin'-life's-bureaucracy-KILL-IT-DEATH-METAL: Jazz bitches PERKELE. Fig and I playing verbal tennis about life and what it means, and no one has or wants any points (gotta love tennis). Getting drunk and quoting lines from Office Space with Wainwright, fuckin' A. The ghost voice of Grillman: a disembodied voice to watch my own shadows. Staying up late counting cards while listening to Roy Orbison with Krimull, and of course downloading massive of amounts of porn, printing endless pages for insertion into large binders. I think that was while we were in middle school. Tennis scores, porn, conversation, beer, contemplation... What else is there? Of course God allows these things to fit somehow...

Would I take those things away?
Nope.

This place looks secure

Would I trade that for a structured life?
No.
A life with security? 

I don't know.
Would it make me happier? 

Probably not.

I could tell you what it means. I don't think you'd understand. How can I describe to you what it was and will be? It is what will be? Isn't it?

Am I less myself when I try to understand myself? I don't know. Or am I more? I don't know. Should I know who I am? I want to know. Who really knows who I am, outside of myself? I want to know.

They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.

Fuck you Franklin.

What is liberty? What does it mean to have emotional or spiritual liberty? Certainly some structured foundations could accommodate this on a case by case basis, but I could also show how one without structure could also have liberty.

***

Nothing looked normal,
but it never was anyhow.

I woke up sometime later. Damp and in pain, I tried to straighten my leg. It refused to cooperate so I felt around for my bag. I smelled like cheap booze and vomit. Though there was the after taste of it, I didn't see any vomit on my clothes or nearby. I recognized my location, because I was along side of large grove of blackberry bushes near my house. I shrugged smiling and stood up. My shoes were totally soaked, even though I didn't wake up in any mud or water puddles.

After walking about half a block I couldn't even remember if I woke up in or near the blackberry bushes. My hands were lightly bruised, and in pain from the cold. They smelled like smoke. For a moment I thought the situation was entertaining. I caught myself smiling to no one. I'm sure God watches.

I got home. Nothing looked normal, but it never was anyhow. Everything in white, outside of a few things. Of course nothing moved or looked mutated, but the absence of life gave the rooms a different look. The lifelessness still retained character and identity, just as the living-dead are not living, but still retain identity.

I took what felt like the longest 5 minutes shower, and drank two glasses of water.

The mirror frowned at me, and I stuck my tongue out at it. From a small portion of the mirror I saw a friend that I left in the hallway. Without looking away from the mirror the lights flicked off.

I woke up a few hours later on a bus to work. Or home? I couldn't remember which one it was. The other passengers looked like reptiles, always staring. Only blinking every so often. My eyes felt heavy, and I went back to sleep.

Waking up again, I missed my stop.

No driver, no passengers. everything was off and dark.
Someone or something from outside the bus said, "You should have expected me."
It wasn't a yell, but it wasn't a happy sounding voice either.
I felt around for my things. They were missing.
I hurried off the bus cautiously looking around for an ambush. It never came, and I didn't see anyone.

There was a bar nearby. As I opening the door it noticed a bright light on my face, from some kind of flashlight. When the light was gone, so was the bar.

I was outside again, damp and cold.
I recognized my location, because I was along side of large row of rose bushes near my house.
I took a rose and put it in my pocket. Then I smiled and stood up.