A Sense of Measure

I've been finding myself become more and more patient with things as I reflect on the fact that this is my only time to exist. As Jim once said, "I've only got one shot at this thing." But as a result of that one shot, there's no reason to rush to find whatever it is that, whether by some need or fact, must be yours, or rather, what you feel you must do to complete yourself. It seems almost paradoxical, but for me, it really isn't. If all goes well, I've got another 50-70 years on this planet, existing as this human figure, but who knows, I could die tomorrow, or one hour from now. The fact that my life is transitory--that someday I will die--nearly forces me to take into account my immediate surroundings more than any perceived need or desire of a continuing future. Some dream of 20 years from now, or even a dream of tomorrow, is not nearly as important as my immediate experience. So, then, there's become a great sense of immediacy in my life. Not immediacy in terms of a struggle of urgency, of a rush to complete, but a concern with those things which are most immediate, in terms of my personal experience of space and time.

With that, or maybe from it, comes, as Robert Creeley might put it, a sense or measure of the commonplace. In the attempt to understand the basic commonality of human existence, or even just the fact of living at all, one begins to feel quite at home wherever one goes and with whomever one meets. I've yet to experience culture shock on this trip and probably the greatest reason for this is because being here feels as natural as being back in Philly. As my friend remarked the other day, "You're so at home!" I feel no need or urgency to be located where I came from--back "home" in Philly--because at this point, this location is my home. Moreover, the state of my existence in Philly was never so much a fact of my being centered in some place that was comfortable and, for the most part, normalized and understood; rather it was my body simply being located somewhere. There never was someplace I could call "home" more than I could my own body. So being here half-way around the world from Philly is no less close to something called "home" than Philly is, simply because of the fact that my body has accompanied me (or, better yet, my mind has decided to accompany my body).

I think perhaps one of the most calming things in life is reflecting on not only those around me, but also those who came before me and those who will come after me. Everybody's constantly trying to do something for whatever reason, and with much impatience, as if it hadn't already been tried before. But because of this, there is reason enough to have patience, to take a step back and wonder, to not heed some friend's advice to go out and party. Sure, parties are good--this is no way an attack on those parts of ourselves or others that urge us to go out and have fun: to drink, smoke, fuck, go nuts. Rather, it's an understanding that that is not a need, in the fullest sense of the word. Although there is a sense of immediacy, of the now, it isn't a requirement, or rather it doesn't necessarily follow, that we go out and get pissed drunk every night because life is short. After all, the converse is true as well: life is too short to go out and get pissed drunk every night. In fact, that is my point entirely, that life is too short to do what everybody else is trying to do, but it's also too short not to. This is not some idea or notion to paralyze action; instead, it's meant to revitalize action, so that what one does is no longer an automation, a habit, but becomes a choice, a conscious decision to do. It is a sense of measure of one's existence, a question of what's to be done, what's important, but no longer a need.

ugh

I don't think I've had this bad of a headache in a long time. I feel like my eye is going to explode or like I'm going to somehow go blind in my left eye.

Dammit. My IBS pain recently shifted to the lower-right side of my abdomen. Now I'm constantly thinking there's something wrong with my appendix.

You're Wrong. Duh.

Man, I really hate it when people think there's some underlying motive for your actions, whatever they may be. I've now had two people try to pinpoint some ulterior motive behind my generally sarcastic and ironic behavior other than it just being who I am and how I sometimes joke around. I don't understand why people feel the need to probe beyond the level of an action being carried out (political/military strategy notwithstanding). What it is is what it is.

Fuck thaaaaat

"China is getting terrible press these days, and understandably so. Yet I have been an admirer of China and the Chinese since I started going there in the cold, gray days of the late 1970s, when Mao was still in power. I have in particular admired the ability of the people to persevere in the face of adversity."

Pff, every society at large is fuckin' like that, dummy. It's not so much that it's the Chinese people's ability to persevere in the face of adversity as it is a general trait of the human species. Go eat a dick.

Noise. It's for the birds.

Noise music has got to be up there on the list of hardest types of music to compose. Jesus.

Tru dat

All women do is cry and buy shoes.