Tuesday, October 27, 2015

irrelevant intrusion on a writer's intentions

It is at least a little bit ironic that I spend hours each week teaching young people about mindfulness and neuroplasticity, while my own brain simultaneously ticks forward and backward and forward again and barely perceives the present moment.  I stand before these young people and remind myself aloud, Mindfulness practice is for everyone.  Tick tick tick.  Can they tell I am somewhere else?

I am the world's best time traveller.  I can go back - I can go forward - I can go back; I leave behind my lifelike corpse, adept at mirroring facial expressions and making reflective statements.  You seem to have a strong opinion about that.  Tell me more.  What's your name?  Why that's fantastic.  He is a genius, everyone!  Please, tell us what you said one more time (because I wasn't listening).  And so forth.  I wonder if I am good at my job.  I wonder if I am good at my life.  How can I be sure?  The feedback is fine, but I find my own insouciance unsettling.


Monday, October 12, 2015

It always seems like you're leaving when I need you here just a little longer

So it turns out that Justin died in January.  Usually my dead-radar beeps more quickly.  It took me until yesterday to figure it out.  He was only 33, which is terribly sad, saddest of course for his parents who have now lost three children.  Three as in all three of their children.  I cannot imagine how that would feel.  I would like to contact his mother, but that might seem odd, and I am not sure what she knows about me and Justin; I am not sure she would be happy to hear from me.  And I do not know if people like hearing from their dead children's friends.  None of my sister's friends ever contacted me after she died, but I think that's because she no longer had any friends by then, or maybe they contacted my parents instead.

Justin and I had lost touch.  I am not even sure if he would have wanted to hear from me or if it would have made him uncomfortable.  He took me a lot more seriously than I took him, and no one really wants to be reminded of that.  I kind of thought he would die young, but that's because I think I can squint my eyes when I look at anyone's face and read their gravestone.  Not really.  But some more than others.  Except I would have guessed he died younger, and more violently.  I am glad I was wrong about those things, sorry I was right he died too young.

Goodbye Justin.  I'm so sorry.  I am truly so so sorry.  You were so alive and so full of big feelings that you could never express while living in a small town.  I am sorry we didn't go deeper into that.  You were misplaced and misunderstood and so beautifully imperfect.  I wish I had been a bit younger so I could have understood you better, and I wish I had helped you in the aftermath of knowing you instead of letting you figure things out for yourself.  I wish you had been born with perfect healthy organs, and I wish you had lived long enough to be cured.  I wish I had been a little gentler and wasn't so fucked up myself that I missed knowing you better.  Jesus, I wish I had let you spend more time at the Republik when you came to visit.  Greyhound Greyhound Greyhound.  Goodbye Justin.  I miss you already.  I miss you in my past.  I miss you in your future.


Friday, October 02, 2015

transfer deck A

Yesterday RW said, "You should come out with us on Friday for once.  No one knows how fun you are."  When he refers to how secretly fun I am, he is referencing a night he and I spent in Athens that involved a lot of drinking.  Being the sort of sociable man's man that he is, RW probably cannot understand that how fun I am is supposed to be a secret.  Being the life of the party is no longer on my priority list, and I only want to share the fun with a small select group of people.  And maybe only in Greece.  Instead of treasuing the fact that I have chosen to let him in on my secret, he wants to share it with the world.  Stupid man.

We were planning to go to Portugal and Morocco this year.  But it probably won't happen.  (RW may never have fun with me again.)