the question has always been about fear. about malice. about rage. how to get past the negative. how to live love and respect. how to transcend. because it's evolution we're after. the true form of the human spirit. the shit that lives on. we want to be that. i want to be that.
how do you cast off fear when it keeps you safe? how do you farewell the only answer you have to the possibility of fatally fucking up? it goes against instinct. it goes against what feels right.
i have figured the answer to be faith. of whatever denomination. believe in christ or a mirror. believe in buddha or allah or prada or da vinci. believe in something.
faith can overcome. faith will overcome.
and it is the only way to overcome fear (tell me if i am wrong). anger gets close, it feels like strength, it feels like a way out. but anger is based on fear, it wraps arms around fear and breathes heavily. anger is like some sort of protective cousin, some sort of neighbourhood watch. it backs fear. it's just a response, and so it feeds itself. it is fear trumping fear with a different face and thicker boots.
but faith? faith understands fear. it soothes and breaks. faith is something people forget to fight for. the world will fight for peace and wealth and innocence, but she forgets faith too quickly. yet it is one of few things that cannot be taken. it cannot be stolen or removed or in any way forsaken. you must give up the fight, faith must be surrendered.
i have surrendered my faith. i did it years ago, and in fear turned to anger. but these days it feels too small. it feels like something i remember but no longer possess. so i am making a break for faith.
i want universal faith. i want faith that does not condemn or wound, faith that steps on no one. i want a faith no path or church or book can give me. faith in all things as divine. my own brand of believer.
that's what i want.
so picture me trying to best fear. i have my game face on. to win faith i best fear. to best fear i need faith. the loop is endless and neverending. it is a mad dash for self-serviced salvation more than it is a leap of eternal hope. there is some grace in leaping but i plan to get ugly. i plan to fight every day. i plan to sweat and groan and ache. i plan to win.
i am learning well-taught lessons. i am learning that nothing matters in the end, but you have to work like it does. i am learning that you should jump headfirst into failure; into the worst possible scenario, just so every time you resurface, you are reminded that you will survive. remember that - you will survive.
you will overcome.
remember your faith.
drop your heart in a/like a beat on the busiest street corner you can find. drop all of it as if you were never attached. tell the saddest story you know to a bum at the lights, and then to the suit walking by.
have as many intimate relationships as you can. be decent. if you have butterflies, say yes even if it can't last. the way it feels to know someone like that, to be told in every way that you are loved and to send back that message.. the elation and the terror.. that makes all the shit less ugly.
(flirt if you are married. fuck your mister. in earnest. fuck that man. top him. do it in public. i don't care if you use a strap-on. don't let the bastards get you down.)
speak up when you are expected to be silent (by yourself, as well as others). there is nothing more fear-inducing than silence.
when you want to stop listening, do it. but make sure you speak up about that as well.
and picture me trying to best fear. but this time, without my game face on. picture me terrified and untouchable. ready to conquer.
but above all, remember your faith. you will overcome.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
it's not like i'm lying when i say these things. it's not like i fabricated this whole mess just for my enjoyment. it's not like that.
it's just that my storytelling is too good. i can fill the gaps with so much possibility and likelihood that everything looks different, everything shifts and changes to facilitate a more noteworthy end. i am writing every day like it's a soap, and i'm directing every one of you to that jagged conclusion. but there are not enough flaws, there is not enough distance between perspective a and person b. there is not enough. the spectrum has not been covered. you are all too close, too same, too real to meet the assigned standards.
so i look past it. i look past what you're saying and doing and i grope for what you would rather be saying and doing. i divine it and i fall for it. i am smitten with your taboos, with your restraint. you have me in full, you have my attention and i'm believing it. i believe it. it's authentic and genuine - it means something. it means something more than all this presentation and small-talk bullshit. it means something.
that's where i live. i live in my head with the real you. i marry reality and alternate reality and watch it all unfold, so incredibly staged as to appear spontaneous. this is how an insomniac stays sane. this is why i think things of people that are at once dead accurate and wholly disappointing. i will never stop, i will never alter. this is how it is. and one day i will find the characters i need; the pure, ruined cast that can hook in to my visions and live them out without trying. the sky will split like flesh. the earth will burn and sing. this is my revelation.
it's just that my storytelling is too good. i can fill the gaps with so much possibility and likelihood that everything looks different, everything shifts and changes to facilitate a more noteworthy end. i am writing every day like it's a soap, and i'm directing every one of you to that jagged conclusion. but there are not enough flaws, there is not enough distance between perspective a and person b. there is not enough. the spectrum has not been covered. you are all too close, too same, too real to meet the assigned standards.
so i look past it. i look past what you're saying and doing and i grope for what you would rather be saying and doing. i divine it and i fall for it. i am smitten with your taboos, with your restraint. you have me in full, you have my attention and i'm believing it. i believe it. it's authentic and genuine - it means something. it means something more than all this presentation and small-talk bullshit. it means something.
that's where i live. i live in my head with the real you. i marry reality and alternate reality and watch it all unfold, so incredibly staged as to appear spontaneous. this is how an insomniac stays sane. this is why i think things of people that are at once dead accurate and wholly disappointing. i will never stop, i will never alter. this is how it is. and one day i will find the characters i need; the pure, ruined cast that can hook in to my visions and live them out without trying. the sky will split like flesh. the earth will burn and sing. this is my revelation.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
no, i have not been reading ginsberg. just the heat wave news
america, you are burning. you are rotting and failing and from the inside you are burning.
are these the horsemen? the scrolls and locusts, the fire and falling stars? america, you live in a constant state of armageddon. doomsday follows doomsday follows the final judgment. who among you is truly sealed and safe?
as your tramps die in gutters and your junkies die of aids, as your countrymen suffer and beg for death - as your city your palace your kingdom breaks off and falls into the ocean, what will you sing? in acapella your anthem? a nation of patriots still refusing to jump ship? or will you reach deeper than that and find the blues, the truest songs of america. sing the blues and float away.
a kingdom drowning in blood. it is about time you paid your dues.
answer me, america. answer yourself. who among you is truly sealed and safe? the men singing the blues. a pure seal of faith. not just embracing fear but love and remorse and all the things you can find in the minor chords of a man who has struggled with every single day, but who refuses to give in to the freedom of death. there is strength for you there. rescue your blues from the fire, america. in the rhythm you will find reserve. it is your song. it is your only hope.
my america, i still worship you. i still worship your strength and your vision, but you are staring down the barrel of our apocalypse. you are staring and grinning as if you are better than this.
but who among you is truly sealed and safe?
are these the horsemen? the scrolls and locusts, the fire and falling stars? america, you live in a constant state of armageddon. doomsday follows doomsday follows the final judgment. who among you is truly sealed and safe?
as your tramps die in gutters and your junkies die of aids, as your countrymen suffer and beg for death - as your city your palace your kingdom breaks off and falls into the ocean, what will you sing? in acapella your anthem? a nation of patriots still refusing to jump ship? or will you reach deeper than that and find the blues, the truest songs of america. sing the blues and float away.
a kingdom drowning in blood. it is about time you paid your dues.
answer me, america. answer yourself. who among you is truly sealed and safe? the men singing the blues. a pure seal of faith. not just embracing fear but love and remorse and all the things you can find in the minor chords of a man who has struggled with every single day, but who refuses to give in to the freedom of death. there is strength for you there. rescue your blues from the fire, america. in the rhythm you will find reserve. it is your song. it is your only hope.
my america, i still worship you. i still worship your strength and your vision, but you are staring down the barrel of our apocalypse. you are staring and grinning as if you are better than this.
but who among you is truly sealed and safe?