Thursday, August 11, 2005

Nothing But Feelings.

I tore last night completely apart and left it bundled up at the bottom of my bed like a dirty and used blanket in a room that was too hot to begin with. Sleep was the farthest thing from this room as I lay awake all night long in an intoxicating lucidity. A great many things came together, glued themselves to one another and made a ladder on which I could ascend and view the inside of my own head from a very new perspective. I found many things which I didn't mean to save in the first place, only kept out of forgetfulness or disconcert, and in them I found myself and wrung myself out of dry paper and ink. I sometimes get sentimental in my blatherings, in my odd and not often well articulated ideas, and I pretend that I exist as a human so far beyond anything that I could ever write. I pretend that my words are only but a dim shadow of the life that I live but as soon as I spend a great deal of time writing I realize that I am only a dim shadow of my words when I am at my best and most real and generally I am nothing but a smushing together of many letters and fragments and pieces of flesh. And one would expect that upon this realization, I would weep as if upon a grave or a burnt dinner, but I cry neither at graves nor burnt dinners nor this realization because I have all the words to make me more real than I would ever be if I were merely tearing at the corners of my eyes over something I knew all along was the farthest thing from tangible. If I can explain why I am crying, I do not need to cry. If the tears come anyway, breaking past all concept of words and logic, as they sometimes do, I am wholly human in that too, because I feel something liquid and fading. It's odd, so much, how I can feel so totally whole and real when I feel nothing but words and then I feel so completely whole and real when I feel nothing but feelings. The world is full of words and feelings and the only way to live is to make the feelings words and the words feelings and then you are feeling wordy and human, just the way it should be.


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