What are you thinking?
What am I thinking about? You don't ask and wonder why I would have secrets.I am thinking about the valley spread out beneath the range, the scattered farms, how lonely they must be. I am thinking about the view from the ridge, and how I cannot look without imagining our tumbling over the edge; the shade of the trees as we climb into the rainforest; how it is like another world on these quiet roads, another world far away from suburban Brisbane, an Australia you could love if you had any love left in your heart.
I am thinking about Zenita, her hair in the wind, always wanting to be swung harder, higher, faster. I am thinking about how it must feel good to lack fear. It has defined my life, carved it into shapes that I do not fit comfortably.
***
I am thinking about how difficult it is to love someone who is crazy, especially if they do not want to change, or worse, want to but do not want to know about how to. I am thinking how little I learned; how little I have learned from anything. I mean in practical terms; I have learned nothing much that I can actually use to make a life, just useless shit that anyone could have who could be bothered to fill their head with it.
You know I do not mind being a passenger. Even though I drive now, I do not mind letting her drive. I just look out at the countryside and let my mind drift; not that it ever does anything else.
I am thinking that Zenita does not have Zenella's looks but she compensates by being so alive, so interested in life... why when I look at them am I always thinking about opportunities that can be squandered? Why do I trust others to drive but I don't trust myself not to fuck up? Do you get what you pay for? If you think you are going to make things shit, are you doomed to prove yourself right?
I do not judge them in that way anyway.
***
I am thinking that it's a pity when milk sours but if it didn't, there would be no yoghurt. I am thinking about men on horses who cooked their steak under the saddle. Were they like us or is the difference so great that we have to think that they were irredeemably Other? How can you know?
Really, you cannot tell with people who are very much like you, or should be, because they will always surprise you. I am often surprised, but rarely in a good way, when people are just so fucking dim about things. Maybe they are thinking the same about me. I'm not kidding myself that my answers are any better than theirs; I only respect them more because they're mine. If I was that smart, I would not be editing reports at 11 at night. I would be flying, untethered, free and clear, miles above this shit. But I am not. I am down in it, getting covered, stinking.
I am thinking nameless, formless thoughts, that I should take a knife and tear myself into strips, that I should stop chasing myself around my own head, that I should be kinder and happier, that I should find love in my heart and put aside hate, that I should learn to hate and put aside softheartedness, that I should eat more seeds and less wheat. I am thinking that thinking is overrated, and just listening to the songs as the weed takes a grip is much better.
I am thinking that you should reach out to me, because I am lonely, and I can't do it. I'm scared of the void; scared of judgements that weigh me too lightly, even if that is all I deserve; scared of everything. I am not big. This body lies about me. I am thinking that if I had a shell I could disappear into, you would never see me again. Yet...
posted by Dr Zen @ 10:28 pm
6 Comments:
A popular musician, since deceased, who had the admiration of at least many thousands, was once accosted by a friend of mine whom he told with a handshake and a grin, "You know we're all pretty much just assholes." I think upon that when in states of mind that seem similar to your post here, because for some reason it tends to put things in a not wholly disappointing perspective.
possible appropos video
NOTE: it's one of the official anthems for The Wrong Party.
Do you get what you pay for? If you think you are going to make things shit, are you doomed to prove yourself right?
In my experience, yes. What makes it worse is that even if you don't think you're going to make things shit, shit happens.
So you can either believe the best and get the best sometimes, or believe the worst and get the worst always. ;-)
And whaddya know. Zero posts a Neil Young song I can actually appreciate for a change. See? Life's full of miracles.
If I was that smart, I would not be editing reports at 11 at night. I would be flying, untethered, free and clear, miles above this shit. But I am not. I am down in it, getting covered, stinking.
boots sez:
You were born in a specific place at a specific date and time. Nobody can say precisely why you entered the world then and there, so guessing reasons is pointless.
There is a point however. No matter where or when you are, you are constrained by the opportunities of that place and time. Some doors are open for you and some are not.
Some circumstances are beyond your control and others are within it. You can only affect those within your control or spin your wheels pulling the knot tighter.
How smart you are is less important than perhaps we have been led to believe. Certainly if we are brilliant we should be likely to spend less energy tightening knots and more energy untangling circumstances.
But if your intelligence was banging hard against the maximum peg, there would remain circumstances beyond your immediate control.
Thinking things are fucked because you are not smart enough can drive you nuts. Though being nuts is not necessarily such a bad thing (fucksake look at the sane people) it really is more productive to accept that sometimes things are fucked because they are fucked, without looking for a place to pin the blame onto your shirt, and move on toward the place at which you wish to arrive.
I just look out at the countryside and let my mind drift; not that it ever does anything else
I can navigate to anywhere - on foot. Convert me from backseat passenger to frontseat passenger, however, with the driver saying, "which way now?", and I become directionally useless - all due to "the drift".
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