Monday, June 7, 2010
The acoustics of my bathroom are nice. I disassociate myself from my body, trapped behind glass eyes in a solid mind. I wish to run my hands across a smooth surface for all infinity, and there must not be any protrusions in this life. Conformity is a test with no real winners. I am a ghost in my own home, on my own land, in my own town. I am reborn every day to overlap my previous self like pages in a book. My preface gives no clue as to the contents as I am not content. My theories are all based on hydrogen and oxygen. Information washes over and passes through my semi-permeable man-brain. Food intimidates my imagination, and I struggle to find fruit that defines me. I am the unexpected item in the bagging area. No allowances can be made for individuality, but we pay the price for duality. I believe in conspiracy. We are conditioned to avert our eyes from the sun by those who fail to see the significance of metaphor. The world's my oyster and I am a grain of sand, you are a drop in the ocean level. Cause unknown. My senses are daily flooded and I'm losing sensitivity. But I remain adrift. Why do these animals judge me? The mighty oaks are my jury with a verdict of silence. An essay is worth a thousand worlds. My picture; nothing, take it and make of it what you will. We are autonomous, we are autumn leaves that forgot where they came from. My fingers are so light that I must grip this pen tight to stop my hands floating above my head like a pair of faithful bumblebees that follow me everywhere. I find mirrors to be misleading and besides the point. I am unable to think and act like the person I appear to be, and equally incapable of looking like the man I am. I feel fine; the details are in my skin and this is a complex emotion. Simple movements calm the soul. Put my mind at easel and add colour to the grey areas. Let's settle this matter once and for all, and not for anything less than closure. This mantle, this broken earth that we stubbornly stand upon, for we need reform to revert to natural laws. I shoot myself in the foot with my pen and limp lovingly across a blank page. Where does perceptiveness end and paranoia begin? Her body language says she's stalking me and going through my trash at night like a beautifully psychotic fox. God waits to make an appearance with the patience of a saint. Meanwhile, the clumsy and opaque fumble their lines and digress unknowingly. We have been brainwashed into thinking. We are free. I once transcribed a babbling brook, only to realise later on that I understood everything around me in the greatest detail and with vivid compassion. My heart spontaneously broke and mended itself a thousand times over as nature recalled history from a true and ancient perspective. I felt like I had been living a selfish lie all this time. The warm breeze comforted me and I felt no pain. I began to melt into the earth as my duty to destiny, for I was far too solid. But now I am a daily snowflake that appears asymmetrical through no fault of its own. I cannot remain intact if you insist on contact. I can't help thinking that I'm just a brain that has mistook a body and circumstance for itself. I am the only cells in this body capable of thought, therefore all others must be subordinate and subject to my every whim. I have grown tired of this prison. Every person that goes by passes a sentence; I am a novel individual. I write unnoticed right under their noses, and challenge the flow of traffic with static poses. I feel like I am on display, what is the secret to blending in? I manage to fade to black involuntarily, and merge with my blanket in the same moment. When I'm certain that nobody is watching I reveal myself to the music, to the page and to the night air, and appeal to my memory to serve me correctly.
First and foremost it is my understanding that all human beings are created equal, and as such we share common and inalienable rights. On this basis, and outside of causing deliberate harm, injury or loss to another, I am irrevocably free to live my life as I choose. Therefore I see it as my duty to stand up for and represent these rights, through my own everyday actions, words and thoughts. It is my responsibility to question others, to share my views and express myself through all available outlets, to do as I feel when I feel, to live and create, uninhibited by external forces. It is my God given right to get down, and inspire and encourage others to do the same.
It has been, and will always remain my intention to live a peaceful life characterized by compassion, love, patience and perseverance.
I am exempt from conformity and the obligations created by others, and bound only by the common law.
Turn to face your pursuers and realise they are merely made of paper and are easily crumpled. There is no need to run. But I run out of ways to live and describe my life nevertheless. I want to create with thought alone and no physical action to taint the purity of the moment. I want blood, sweat and tears that I believe in, instead of needless bloodshed and empty heartache. I watch as they deplete their glycogen stores through grandiose celebrations and excessive show-boating. They say it's necessary, but I have my reservations. I refuse to be a spectator as I am a spectre that waits for no mortal no more. I once created an unwritten rule that said no two lines shall ever intersect, for the purpose of clarity, but now all I have ever promised has converged into a single point the exact and ever-expanding size of the known universe. But knowledge is useless without practical application. I am useless without practical application. I am a beam of light; either reflected or absorbed by my surroundings. I am introverted and the world is my mirror. My capacity for recalling and recording events only seems to favour the night, hence why they seem endless. A string of pearly moons full of silence and mystery, draped slowly across the expanse of three hundred and sixty five blue black skies that creep in sequence, the weeks are sequins spread sparingly. I have become lost in my identification with the senses and experience. I no longer need excuses to protect me from the future and condemn me to destiny. Last night I dreamt I was going to perform in a show, and as I sat there watching the other acts before me I felt the pressure of expectation increasing as my time grew near, and I realised that I did not want to dance for or in front of these people, because they would see my true form. It was as if I would be fully exposed, and for some reason it was too personal and intimate to share with anyone, and so I got up and snuck out before anyone could stop me. Perhaps I was also scared of making mistakes, and preferred to do nothing at all rather than take that risk. I see how both of these feelings have been prevalent in my waking life, but most significantly I am aware of these times when I feel vulnerable, on display and open to scrutiny that could otherwise be avoided. I find myself in situations, activities, habits and hobbies that require me to bare my essence as well as my weaknesses, and although I am fairly comfortable and at home with doing so in my own company, it appears to be a huge barrier with other people around. I think that part of the problem is that when I look at myself from a third person perspective, the physical image interpreted as me doesn't match up with the internal thoughts, feelings, ideas and desires. When I watch a recording of myself in the presence of others it is as if I become a hundred times more self aware and critical than I was at that moment. There surely is a huge gap between who I believe I am, and who I want to be, or between who I am on the outside, and who I am on the inside. I don't think I judge my thoughts harshly, but I judge my appearance by a completely different set of standards, Perhaps my body has not yet caught up with my mind, or maybe I just need to let go before my body can be finally free.