oh what a thing to do.
What comes to mind doesn’t stay. What stays I don’t remember. Or sometimes I do, but it’s not usually beneficial. Sometimes, things never formulate fully. Sometimes, they do. Maybe taking a couple of days or sometimes years. There are things that are taking years and years and they still don’t seem any more complete. Things have changed in the world, but they haven’t. People talk about the good old days. The days when things were cheerful. The days when people could leave their houses unlocked, keys in the ignition. The days when children never disappeared. I don’t know though. I think the days were always here. Like they are now. Shit still happened. The really bad kind. People simply didn’t speak about it. The years past are filled with a dignified injustice, I think. A quiet discomfort. An undercurrent of pain. All you have to do to understand a small bit is read a book about Marie Antoinette. Or watch a movie about a myriad of different circumstances. We are just as superficial as ever it seems. The majority, I mean. Most definitely not the whole. And that matters. It matters not just because there’s hope. Hope is nice and all. But there can be hope whenever and under whatever circumstance. It’s really not out of the ordinary. Thing that makes life so shaken, shaken in a good way, is that there is beauty. True, not vain, beauty. And wonder. It takes all sorts of forms. I came across it in a reaction with sodium acetate yesterday. I pray it constantly. I saw it in a film tonight. I see it swirled around in life like cookie dough in ice cream. There never seems to be enough of it, but it’s there. And when you bite into it, it tastes so good.
…I must have a talent for awkward sounding metaphors.
I sat outside in the rain today and thought about absolutely nothing. I can’t remember a thing I thought about which is why I don’t think I thought anything. It wasn’t bad. Perhaps it’s good not to think every once in awhile. It must be a wonderful thing to just let the rain soak in. I have a recurring picture in my mind. It’s been around for quite awhile. One of those years and years things I was talking about. Sometimes I try to forget. Usually I feel guilty about that. I’m going to stop trying to forget it. We all have doors we have to open; This one, I’m walking through. I imagine, as I turn back to look at it…the outline of my body leaving a hole in the door.
I am finally realising that some doors don’t open for us. We must run at them believing with all our hearts that somehow we will make it through to the other side.
