To Consume Is Only Violent Possession

When I was young I was on the swim team. I could remember sitting on the edge of the pool, after practice and I was so content from being healthy. It was the healthiest I have been in my whole life. My heart would beat slow and strong and I ached nowhere. I reached the final destination and end result that all exercise is for, or can be. This is how we lived. This is what I want.

What do I really want? What is it beyond all of this absurd self-excruciation that comes from nowhere? I made a conscious effort to locate in my heart what it is that I really want out of my life. I was there on my back staring at the ceiling with the AC gone out when it hit me. See, I have gotten so much accomplished lately but it’s empty at the end. At the end of the day there’s nothing. Just an empty room and some alcohol. If I could do anything and make it happen and do it, it is this, honestly: I would want to live on an island with a dark girl (I think she once sung of the Philippines) hairy legs and pits (as if unshaven not cultivated) smelling like whatever nature would have us. There would be blue sky and a point break with a soft reef. We are naked and clothed only in the confidence that we have all we need. Fish and coconuts. Sex and sleep. We surf at morning and dusk.


We rarely speak, but when we do it sounds more like singing. We speak in songs. Her hair is long and dark. It’s a bit crusted with the salt and sun, but perfect. This is our world, not theirs. She has a small belly, and it’s perfect. Looking strait on as she comes towards me, hers is less of the hourglass that they had us believe. A dash of the androgenic perhaps. This in keeping with the 80/20 principles of our yin yang universe rather than the 50/50 theories we as intelligent creatures developed. We try in the western world to redefine “fair” and only use this redefinition when it suits us. There is a 50/50 going on just as there is the 80/20. Just think of the eastern symbol. We took it and made a pie. We slice it till there’s nothing. This is the nature of the analytical dualistic mind. Some try to judge and cut out bigger pieces, some try to cut equal pieces. Some share, some don’t. But in the end it’s gone. It wasn’t even a pie was it? With these facts to be in place and active, ready, we follow our instincts first and obviously, transversely, I will have the bit of a woman in me that is a ribcage, the eyes. There are flowers in the trees and we have made musical instruments from bones and things found in the forest-jungle. Her smile makes everything around her look like a painting without frame, only my dream of its essence, all that it is. The essence of this world is all that it is. Purity found. How did we lose it? I want to find it. That’s what I want.

Blue Lagoon? Perhaps there is a village. Maybe we’re alone. If there’s a village we are independent creatures and get along. This is where I have to use my imagination. How would this work? We take care of the sick, but don’t need to take care of each other otherwise. There is an unspoken natural system. We work together but without effort. It just happens. There is no obligation to help each other, it just happens. Kindness ceases to exist because that’s all there is, just as there is no opposite to breathing while alive. I guess you can hold your breath, perhaps there is no opposite to the heartbeat while living. I’ll have to think about this more, it’s like a puzzle.

Amen is the best word ever, because it means even less than “God.” I gave you stoned progressive hard rock winters but the waiting kills and I have better things to do. The bouncer you most dislike now gets you in the door for free, the forgotten free, and Maria begs and waits for you in the wing, on the tail-flap of her father’s fighter. Oh what a romantic matrical mary-ann! To drift and remember oneself in such uncertain terms accounted and dried for this thin and intimate infinity, it’s a macabre celebration, Dante’s dentist, oiling his gun.

At birth perhaps, before the words and the a posteriori madness of existence, we think of that grass greener in the womb, we split from it, and then it all, all, almost sure of something, but then when we grow older and on to put it all into split words, we find something else altogether was our scratch.

NOTE: This is an old one as is “Yet Another Movie, 3 years ago or so, pulling up some old docs recently.

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