this is where we look for things
6.3.01 - 8:07
oh my. remember this part. the part with the pencil and poking the pencil through the soft fleshy graypink brain meat. seriously. when you have a door with so many locks you wonder if you are keeping other people out or if you're keeping yourself in or maybe both? ah. answer the phone, the ringing is so insistent. and then no more, i mean, nothing.
tomorrow we ride trains. who was it with the trains. oh, the boy in clockers. the clocker in clockers. uh-oh. watch out for the drill.
ok. riddle me this, batman. 1, you look deep into your own eyes and all you see is your own reflection, 2, you look into his/her eyes and this is the same, 3, you look into his/her eyes and there isn't anything but space and time and depth and where did you go? it's perplexing, a little bit. if i close my eyes am i still really here. is the world the same while i'm not looking. hell.
it's cold outside before the sun comes up and sometimes it is still cold outside even when the sun is out. and the sun can stay up for hours and you can be warm in the sun but when it's not on your face there is a chill, still. meetings with old friends can be quite lovely and yet there is this overlay, this stress or tension that comes with the territory because you know you aren't the same and they aren't the same and what this really amounts to is two strangers with shared memories, which makes them less than strangers, but only in a very basic way. ok. but it is also something different, right. of course it is. you are two strangers but then you travel back in time together and then you travel back and now you're not two strangers, not quite. not quite that.
strangers don't help people they don't know, even when they are walking past you and you are screaming for help. they won't help you unless there is something extra, compelling them. i can watch you watch the woman with the baby and the empty stroller, the stroller tipping over and all of its insides out on the sidewalk and the baby crying and you even think about picking some things up and decide against it. why? it's really quite immaterial.
you can watch pi and read bee season and ruminate a while on the merits of jewish mysticism. it makes sense to translate religion into numbers, math, letters, sounds. because these are things that make sense, things that we find patterns in. and pattens are good.
now look at this. the sun's gone down and i'm not outside, but damn, it is a little chilly in here and so i am going to grab a blanket.
