04.13.2004 - 9:08 p.m.
There are so many days where
I feel like I just
move through life without even scratching
the surface of things. Girl in a bubble. It's Koyaanisqatsi,
days just move past; it's morning, it's evening, it goes so fast,
it goes and the bright flashes of life fade. All of it, the painful,
the beautiful, the supposedly unforgettable. A backwards Polaroid.
In Thailand, I tilted my face
to the sun, felt the bright red hotness behind my eyes, and tried
to hold things. Stay that exact moment, the exotic locale,
the feeling of freedom, the lyrical laughter of soccer-playing
children. Remember this, remember this. Please, remember
And I do. But. Only a matter
of days and it's a memory, it's data, it's not sensory,
and even if it is, it's less. Less.
I am frightened by one thing
over all else. The passage of time, how deceitful and toying
it is. How an hour can feel like a day, but when the moment is
it's a blink. It's a gunshot. It's fucking MTV editing,
and a year can be that. Five years. Ten. More. It goes
so, so fast.
It feels like sliding down a chute. You have no choice, you fall
Here's what I think, though.
I think that you can slow things. I think you can make everything
be deeper, richer, and slow down. Just put out your arms.
Grab on to everything you can. Risk it, over and over again.
Give a shit about what's going on around you. Be immersed
with the world, be a fucking sponge, take every bit of yourself
and put it everywhere you can.
What I do, I think, is I tuck
my arms. Fold them over myself. Close my eyes. Slide as fast
as I can. And it goes by.
My failing. My falling.
Once JB and I hiked in the
desert up a steep hill covered in loose scree in order to poke
through an abandoned mine. As we climbed, another hiker emerged
from the mine's entrance and started coming down. I stopped to
watch him, because it was amazing - he came tearing down in great
leaps, just one giant step after another, rocks tumbling along
in drifts. He was down, hundreds of feet, in maybe thirty seconds.
Later, when JB and I came down,
JB went ahead of me. He employed the same technique, large strides
accompanied by sliding rushes of stones.
I have been ashamed of myself
many times in my life, but that day sticks out painfully; my
timid, frightened steps, my achingly slow descent, the minutes
ticking by and the sweat rolling down my face, the inch I would
manage to force myself to travel before stopping. JB finally
losing his temper, me screaming that he wasn't helping dammit.
Such a chickenshit thing, when the very worst that could have
happened to me was a skinned knee.
My fear of falling. My failing.
Tonight, the president did
a live press conference. And I didn't watch. Because what
I think doesn't matter. Because I would rather be ignorant than
Because my arms are tucked.
There's less risk that way,
last ::: next
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004