thought

AM Pathos
August 09, 2004

I consume music like food. Which is to say I only eat one thing at a time. I will get a new batch of cds, pick my favorites, and listen to nothing else for a week or so. Longer if it's good.

The result is that I can pick up any cd from the last 6 months and know exactly where I was in time when I listened to it. I've had it drilled in my head like vocabulary lessons. Sometimes I think that because I've started listening to music with lyrics in it again (somewhere around a couple of years ago), that I am normalizing. Words can make anyone feel normal.

...

I'm still scooting through this book on fascism. I accidentally started another book at the same time, so I'm a bit torn. But people are on my mind. As they're ALWAYS on my fucking mind. I find it hard to think of anything else. Even when I purposely stick my head in some abstract science way beyond my eyeballs--in an attempt to engage my full attention--some giggling part of my brain is spinning the information into incorrect analogies for human existence.

But everything I read is ultimately telling me to pay attention to them... the real people wandering around, occasionally tripping over bumps in the sidewalk, making goofy jokes and being lovely.

I have great fantasy in my head. That sounds gay. But it's true. My head can and is naturally inclined to take a tiny event and turn it into some sweeping something with a soundtrack and fancy lighting effects. I love doing this with people. That's the most fun.

But that also means I can never ever talk to them. I also can't ever talk to myself. Can't disappoint ourselves.

When my brain melts away, what I see are a bunch of animals. Scratching themselves, sniffing around for mates, seeking security and safety in numbers, nesting. It is terrifying because it is so OBVIOUS. All this babbling that gives mortality some kind of purpose is just an elaborate ruse. Someone who knows about neurochemistry should tell me if the illusion of consciousness appeared before or after the invention of language.

But this is no good state to live in. Because everything says we need to take care of each other. That at least involves paying attention. So I leave my house on a regular schedule. I make and keep dates with my friends. And I only get mooney and weird in the mornings when my blood sugar is low and I'm waiting to wake up completely.

I had a dream a week or so ago about ferris wheels floating on the bay. This is when I decided to go to Alcatraz. What they don't tell you, though, is that Alcatraz comes from the Spanish "alcatraces" which means "stinky bird poo island." It's the best place to take pictures of tourists being goofy though.