as we lie together (verbally, not physically), i wonder about the mutual level of awareness. we both see through the charade, do we not? what’s the logical reaction to a world without the sarcastic humor of realism?
or maybe there’s a trick i think is being played by an unsuspecting, reasonably disassociated schemer. i refrain from calling you out, in chase of a euphoric pursuit.
blogs, books, biographies — what do they all have the most of?
it’s an interesting, jaundiced question aimed as a distraction for the answer below.
spaces are what deliver the words beneath our vision.
he sat there, in a linen chair, wondering about the fate of his heirs. will there be an ancestor? or maybe an empty blank in a set turn.
around him was the production and talent staff of his (un)anticipated debut series. he saw through the filler agenda, but succumbed to the pull of its lottery. “maybe someone will come across it somehow and share it.” that’s the answer.
in the shoot with him were two other principal characters, possibly more deserving of feature monologues, Seane and Roninin. there was a critique airing from both sources about the risk of an important political move.
i’m going to end that short story there. what happens next?
dealing with an unwanted situation — is that the definition of awkward? i’ve been involved in plenty of sagas where i can trace the outline of an uncomfortable rigidness, yet i don’t feel stiff. instead, i sense an unjust tone of pity and a lack of sympathy for the explanations i don’t have.
sometimes, when i’m compelled by structural grading to complete an assignment, the effort peters to a faint brush stroke. it’s here that the momentum switches and, instantaneously, the end zone is miles away from the superdome.
when encountering such wizardry, i usually succumb to its spell and step away from the project in my foreground. mentors, teachers, parents, and classmates may recommend a push, or offer a shove, to continue the job and finish the shift of concentration.
finish what you’ve started. follow through. starting is the hardest part. leave it all on the mat.
but i’ve noticed a tiny inconsistency between abandoned homework and, say, cleaning my room. the perks of an organized, sterilized space for slumber exude themselves as soon as i step inside. the mind is calmed to an ease of rhythmic movement.
contrasting that well-earned gift is studying for an exam or devoting hours, fractionated or whole, to an assignment. is it its difficultly that’s persuading me to leave it in the scrap pile? i don’t believe so.
shooting down that common answer, the next one leaps out to exclaim that i don’t like to persevere if i’m not engaged or interested by the mission. but why would i sacrifice extended moments of free will to pet my brain against the grain?
the key component to remember here is that determination floats along the rapids. music and writing are camping at the end, where loads of surprises and pay-offs await. school, however, is off to the side, ten miles inland, posting up in a marsh surrounded by reptiles.
the correct choice of navigation is as plain as a pop-tart wrapper. but within our culture, and our wider, beer-bellied society, the sensical path is crossed, not taken. we weave east and west and south, every once and a while remembering that north is called “true” for a reason.
goals are riddles. dreams are elusive. what does that make life?
i’m all out of two cents.
– D K T