Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Motor Ave

I let my name go. Then my history. Everything fell there onto the sand. I imagined this blank canvas of a form, one spirited mannequin, opened my eyes and it could've been gone. The blue lines crystal cut, small ripples travelling, the sight before my eyes a heaven prior to the association.

Nights ago, my friends and I held hands to pray, sort of as an indulged joke, but afterwards I couldn't wipe the smile from my face.

You can't go searching for one person in a town composed of everyone. It makes no sense. I get so flawed at times but I can still feel myself leaving anger behind. And it's beautiful. There is everyone, they are all around, kinda magnificent even if you encounter an unsettling character or two. They've been unsettling lately and the lessons are louder that way but troubling all the same.

Baggage don't just come in bags.

This girl, my friend's roommate, she scared us both. She had exited belief awhile ago and was one strawberry margarita into a diatribe on, not humanity, but each individual human and their lack of redemption. I ate guacamole intent on getting her to feel improved. Patient. Because it's felt like no one around me is feeling good these days. Feel good. Feel good! She hated everything, everyone, us, contempt. Independent of me or an HBO series found disagreeable or an accidental overdose on anti-depressants or confronting this and its end, feel good! I had my own basket of tortilla chips, asked the waiter if he had change for a twenty and he offered me it in cents, two dimes, we laughed. I'll take a canned joke over an original critique. Fuck, I drank a shot of Patron like it was the origin of a tomorrow.

You wake up greet a new day like an unfolding page or a tsunami wave but a moment all the same. The way it mostly holds steady is amazing.

I'm one of these dumb suckers who believes this attempt is worth something of cosmic value. I know it's dumb but I feel it. I feel it. These last few months, I couldn't tell you how I made it through intact. I want to tell someone but the words are beyond a friendly interaction and I'm not sure if I'd be seeking sympathy or clarity. It's like, if you can manage to handle all the psychic pain, then it becomes very personal. Then the pain becomes a privacy in a wide open day and age. And I don't remember if that kid ran into my car before all this or during it. But he was fine, wearing a helmet, shaken up. We all find grace. I think we all search for an element of grace to ballet dance upon our inevitable agony. But there is no need to worry, no need to search, we all have the grace already, all of us are inborn with grace. Trust me. I had this thought awhile back, how everything exists in a state of peace and that's why violence, tragedy, natural disaster, is an event. The bad stuff is an event, because existence is dominantly good.

Even to dissect a single moment, you'd discover a dominant peacefulness amongst the minuscule pains.

It's all a wonder, for those of us dumb enough to try. It's all a wonder.