everything felt entirely vacant of meaning. anywhere that the city rose up from earth with human structure felt like a deformity. buildings, jobs, daily efforts, nothing that any of us had done, was doing, going to do, had even scratched the surface of meaning.
by the time i returned home, i was dying on the idea of life. hours passed by in front of the television with only a vague semblance of selfishness and vanity, everything evaporating. i tried to eat, fought the urge to smoke, waited. then my friend texted me, and in two different spectrum's of experience we related a bit, trav and i watched the lakers, ate a trader joe's pizza, trav kept me in the game, otherwise it would've been worse. savagely, i was being shepherded out of the abyss by unknowing relationships, creature comforts, and for what reason, i didn't know, care.
the night wore on, guided by the faint notion of finding rest and trying again, against my own weakness, pessimism, genuine struggle, i crawled into bed, covered my cold feet, and went to sleep.
i dreamt vividly, constructed an entire house in foreign hills unlike any i'd ever seen before, then leapt through a window screen downhill, into lemon trees.
today, i woke up early, and did what i've done so many times before, threw some clothes on, grabbed a couple tangerines, and walked to the beach. the anxious pulse from yesterday's caffeine sensitivity, nicotine withdrawal, existential angst, whatever it was, had calmed down enough that i could recognize a different path to the same place. basketball courts, sand, parallel bars, somewhere further ahead was the pacific ocean. what a patient mother, that body of water. i probably felt it everywhere on my senses as my joints, muscles, creaked into the first set of dips, IF MY BRAIN CAN DETERMINE MEANINGLESNESS THAN THAT ENSURES THE EXISTENCE OF MEANING. it happened there. This one thought, however worded, changed everything. Everything became enlivened. Everything was something, it had to be. If life is meaningless, then that very statement affirms that there is a recognition of meaning, because otherwise it couldn't be less. And if life is meaningless, that notion only guarantees a dual sense of meaning, in another form, presence, or beyond this minute experience into the vast complex infinitude regions of elsewhere. whatever it meant, it meant something to me and i could feel my soul shift, heart dial-turn into a moon bringing light.
i walked hurriedly back to the apartment, a world better than when i departed. shoes off, stepped inside, seemingly renewed. immediately upon my entrance, trav and i bickered and dueled like children with taunting smacks, punches, kicks, the immature kinds that only brothers know how to inflict on one another with perfect amounts of playfulness, humour, bite, buddhas we weren't. then i ate some toast, pumpkin butter, cottage cheese, packed up my stuff, and left to the cafe to do the thing that's always hinted to me of worthwhile investigation into this brilliant meaninglessness/meaning.
so now, i'm writing again.
