Saturday, June 25, 2011

a blindness that touches perfection

When did I get so old, unable to stay awake, long gone those nights of laying on a living room floor listening to music and talking until the sun came up, having revelations and inspirations at 3am over diner food and infinite cups of coffee, frenzied painting at late hours.

And now, I'm fighting to keep my eyes open, wondering why the caffeine doesn't work like it once did, maybe it's the connection with people and if not that the creative process that keeps me feeling awake and alive and lacking either of those, I'm dead to the world or wishing I was.

Writing this late is my equivalent of being drunk, becoming either absurdly slap-happy or existential and emotional as the inner life bleeds out. I don't get drunk for that reason alone, because I do and say enough stupid that I don't need any other reason to do so. The euphoria and melancholia are already too saturated and intense and every fear and hope is amplified to deafening and debilitating decibel.

I don't expect anyone to fill that void of loneliness, because it's the human condition, the state of the soul even at its most loved but that doesn't stop the longing held in by veneers of cynicism and sarcasm so easy to see through. The constancy of dreams deferred is a hard thing.


Randal Graves said...

Was just about to type 'can I get an Amen' but then realized that's probably too celebratory for such a solemn occasion.

Imagine how much stupid you would say while drunk. Make a game of it (I jest, of course, unless you wanna chug that espresso shot).

If you're suggesting cynicism and sarcasm are easily seen through, shit, I better go find a new thing, chainmail or something.

Word verificaiton: zinglubp, 'cause it's a 180°, a funny kind of drowning.

Anonymous said...

when we are young(er) there is a feeling of anything being possible, even if we kind of know better, that is intoxicating/exhilarating in that slightly manic kind of way. and as we get older that fades and life can seem a bit less, but that feeling of freedom/possibility was just that a feeling, a more substantial freedom comes with commitments and coming to terms with what is and what needs to be done. that and one discovers triple-shot espressos.

thatgirl said...

Randal, the sentiment of agreement is duly noted. Better start shopping at some medieval faires, amigo. Though the black hoodie seems to be a fine substitute in this modern age.

Agreed. If I had espresso instead of Mountain Dew (I couldn't interrupt the broadcast and beg for someone to bring me more coffee), maybe it wouldn't have been so bad.

Randal Graves said...

Plus I don't think a suit of chainmail would fit in the washer.

You should have interrupted, would have made for a riveting, unexpected broadcast.