Sipping Sage Tea in Bridgeview (waiting for Rick)
April 2007
April snow, rain, slush, shicago, I like it.
If I think too long on it or anything, I may change my mind. I will change my mind and not move to Chicago after ten years.
The same ghosts haunt me, no the same ghost haunts me here after all these years, but it has found me in Colorado as well. It is the ghost of no ghosts
that is the ghost of knowing or suspecting there is nothing, no point
no meaning or a meaning mundane, too mundane for a believer, but
I’m not a believer, am I?
I want to be, but I see belief in others and frequently it disgusts me, scares me - intolerance, self-righteousness failing to veil fear and doubt, and I recognize this fear and doubt as I know it myself.
I never did read letters from an existentialist, perhaps I will now… I feel I could descend into anger to mask depression which pushes out from within my skin or is it from outside of me to within? But at the same time I feel closer to an acceptance, not bliss, but acceptance of this. Capital “T” This and at the same time small “t” this, this and that, traffic, bills, Ronan’s dancing, Declan’s laughing, dreams of my father, resumes and cover letters, job search, house for sale in a worsening market, friends in Colorado and Chicago… human connection I think is my true religion, the god I’ve always sought, the Buddha in others. But at the same time I’m hard wired to be semi reclusive or at least to desire hermitage, and ten minutes into retreat I want to be with people again. I want space and then I get away, I dive within, watch my breath and pass out. Brief relief from the pressure of being in this world, but even as I type this I’m bored with myself and this Struggle, I think my struggle is no better than TV, no better than a drug - sugar, alcohol, nicotine, caffeine - to which I turn for a pickup or tone down, a cloudy respite, an altered state, but checking out never feels good afterwards.. From what am I trying to escape?
The problem is dualism I think – if I could finally accept that this life is it, all I got, whether there is a before or after, this is it, capital “IT”, and IT is good even when it is not good, that is IT is IT, this is why we are here whether sent by God or evolved from dinosaur or both, we are here to dive into April snow, melt into sinus pain, sink into sage tea, conversation, kefta kabob, shawarma, etc. … Rick has arrived.
Conan
April 2007
April snow, rain, slush, shicago, I like it.
If I think too long on it or anything, I may change my mind. I will change my mind and not move to Chicago after ten years.
The same ghosts haunt me, no the same ghost haunts me here after all these years, but it has found me in Colorado as well. It is the ghost of no ghosts
that is the ghost of knowing or suspecting there is nothing, no point
no meaning or a meaning mundane, too mundane for a believer, but
I’m not a believer, am I?
I want to be, but I see belief in others and frequently it disgusts me, scares me - intolerance, self-righteousness failing to veil fear and doubt, and I recognize this fear and doubt as I know it myself.
I never did read letters from an existentialist, perhaps I will now… I feel I could descend into anger to mask depression which pushes out from within my skin or is it from outside of me to within? But at the same time I feel closer to an acceptance, not bliss, but acceptance of this. Capital “T” This and at the same time small “t” this, this and that, traffic, bills, Ronan’s dancing, Declan’s laughing, dreams of my father, resumes and cover letters, job search, house for sale in a worsening market, friends in Colorado and Chicago… human connection I think is my true religion, the god I’ve always sought, the Buddha in others. But at the same time I’m hard wired to be semi reclusive or at least to desire hermitage, and ten minutes into retreat I want to be with people again. I want space and then I get away, I dive within, watch my breath and pass out. Brief relief from the pressure of being in this world, but even as I type this I’m bored with myself and this Struggle, I think my struggle is no better than TV, no better than a drug - sugar, alcohol, nicotine, caffeine - to which I turn for a pickup or tone down, a cloudy respite, an altered state, but checking out never feels good afterwards.. From what am I trying to escape?
The problem is dualism I think – if I could finally accept that this life is it, all I got, whether there is a before or after, this is it, capital “IT”, and IT is good even when it is not good, that is IT is IT, this is why we are here whether sent by God or evolved from dinosaur or both, we are here to dive into April snow, melt into sinus pain, sink into sage tea, conversation, kefta kabob, shawarma, etc. … Rick has arrived.
Conan
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