Saturday, August 13, 2005


The story begins here and I am no physicist. I am many things: I am a eukaryote ("always put 'an' before a word with a vowel, and 'a' before a word with a consonant" they used to say), an animal, a primate, a genius to an ant, a moron to a remarkable human, an inventor with every word and step, a descendent, a resident, feasible and, in some infinity frames of reference, already dead. I am a Sistine Chapel, an imitable failure, a collusion, a student, a doctor, a lawyer, a Bach compisition (either J.S. or P.D.Q.), foresight, Lichtenstein, a thinker, a codec for the deterministic predilections of a dice-throwing God. Some days I am in love and then I am a chair, a dreamer, a phallus. Sometimes I have family and I am a son, or a brother. Sometimes I have friends and I am a neon sign, a protege, a caulking gun, an indigent crossing guard. Sometimes I am alone and then I am a living incarnation of a desire to be anything else coupled with the warmest comfort alone can give a man and sometimes that in itself is stronger and better than any love or familial obligation to be together or friendship could ever offer. Everything gets personfied when it becomes lacquered with the experiences of time and time itself is no different. What was yesterday? The versions of time given by any observer are just the nows of an observer, such as myself. I put on my overcoat and walked into winter, my teeth chattered rhythms like a morse code message sent from me to me. I'm putting on my overcoat and I am walking into winter. My teeth are chattering a rhythm like a morse code message sent from me to me. I'll put on my overcoat and walk into winter, my teeth will chatter rhythms, like a morse code message sent from me to me. etc, but with better, less whiny musicians.


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