Introductions

If I didn't know me, I'd want to meet me.

Matter of fact

So you go for a walk for some rare and distant thing. As you get closer to it, you realize that you yourself have become a rare and distant thing.

That's what you call a kick in the pants. Point of realization. And so you look around, realizing, once you've become your own rare and distant thing, you haven't traveled a mile. Oh, well then, where am I?

So you call out to your buddies. Point of realization. Volume turns to whispers across the vast plains of communication. Standing right in the face of a brother, shouting for all your worth, and all that comes out is a sob. A gasp. A stammer. Do my words fail me? Am I speaking at all? Have I put out my brother's hearing? Have I blinded him? Have I done some wrong? Why do they look at me this way? Do I not make sense?

So one learns to sit still. Folded under by one's own violence, one finds peace. One finds the infinite, the inevitable. One becomes patient. One recognizes the omens, learns to read the world, finds a voice beyond voice- learns to walk again in the garden of the eternal.

At first I was ignorant, guided by humor and the sideways glances of a wild animal. The snarl, the catch in the smoothness of the pelt. The snaggletooth that lets you feel the bite. I was caught and I believed I understood.

The flood of the tundra before me took hold. It's the grip of ice water against your chest, around your neck. I was caught and I believed I understood.

You see, there is something one must always keep in mind. Observation must be shallow in order to be understood. So we sample, we taste around, we shut out the vastness. The thing I call the tundra. We learn very little this way- outside of the flurry.

Language is useless if you have no experience of it. It's not a gift I can give. One can only take it for themselves- by taking that stroll. By wandering into the jungle, looking for that fierceness.

And at a point, the drive you have to know will be matched by the drive of the thing to stay hidden. You will be tested. It is at that critical moment, that beautiful moment, you will know what you're made of. Break past that point... and you'll know what to do at the next one.

There is always a next one, but that's ok. Keep at it.

It's ok.

Steve is laughing at Joe because Joe doesn't know how to cook a proper meal.
Joe is laughing at Steve because he could easily kill Steve with a fork.
I'm laughing at them both because if Joe kills Steve, I'm the only one that will be able to eat him.
And we're all standing here, laughing at each other.
No one knows where Mikey is, but we're all certain we know where he isn't.
And we're all standing here, laughing at each other.

Napalm in the morning

Brush my teeth with a hammer.
I'm tired of the view.

----

It wouldn't do me well to tally out the times I've been called offensive, or vulgar, or shameless, or indifferent, or cold, or impatient, ... or the most interesting person [x] has ever met.

I live in a manner that most can't imagine. I know. I've asked them. And it isn't that the things I see are more spectacular or that I'm any better at a task or any smarter than the average bear. I live in a state that affords more wonder and awe- the heart of true art and true science, Albert would write. Incredibly humble guy, or so I read. He reads like a guy of great capacity for patience, and that's why I admire him.

A co-worker complained that I become short tempered towards the end of my shift. Perhaps it's due that I'm spending my early mornings (12-8) at Target. Today a manager told me I was a good worker. A good worker. Like I'm a fucking leaf-cutter ant. I had half a mind to tell him it was my latent negro blood, just to watch his reaction. I can't stand being called a good worker. It seems like a reduction. This PERSON is a GOOD WORKER. I try to remember that my life has been rich and diverse and that other people, regardless of personal traits, intelligence or capacity have very similar rich and diverse lifetimes. Oh, you've climbed kilimanjaro? I had soup and crackers for lunch. Howaboutthat? You were the class president? I banged the valedictorian. Moot points.

----

ShockTrooperOfGodLikeWhoa.

----

Birthdays a plenty.
As if I only have a day!
With every breath.
I celebrate. I love you.
Now lick my boot.

Quality of being

I'd define it as a relatively heightened perception of the world around them. It's marked by a fire in the spirit, regardless of the health or well being of the person for one may stumble harshly and still burn brightly. True excellence is born when the genius within a person is allowed to flourish through acts of selflessness.

Incredibly simple. Incredibly difficult.