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i died tonight — 8 july 2003 some direction — 21 march 2001 root of all knowledge — 8 february 2001 an angel — 12 september 2000 in the country — 6 september 2000 untitled — april 2000 thoughts at lunch — february 2000 another failed love poem — late 1999 what do i think of reality? — february 1999 winter — november 1998 |
SOME DIRECTION -- 21 MARCH 2001 People are always saying how we need some direction in our lives. However, what they fail to realize is that there already is a great deal of this direction. It simply needs to be pointed out. It is not only ever-present, but ever and ever more important. Your direction is your very own life and your very own meaning. Here are mine. North is a star. It is a place that I've never been. It is brighter than eyes can see. More than an idea, more than a thought, north is an instinct. A grand and understated thing. Oh, it's shiny! A new and attractive and fully beautiful piece of the sky. One piece in an infinity, but certainly an important one. If it wasn't, would it have a direction of its very own? East is a bustling sunrise. It is preceeded by crowds of faces with less than sameness, and more than individuality. It is being full of dreaming of magic carpets with living tassels, breathing breaths of sandstorms and drifting in their freetime. East is fortunes being made and told all in the same sunlight with the same or at least similar-intentioned winds at one's back. West is vast and driven. It is full of wind power and culture, glitter and all that is fashionable. It is unending music and careful generalizations. The salty ground teems with sunshine and moonshine. An overwhelming weight of history is constantly being thrown out of country eyes and city wishes, city make-believe. It is a tradition, it is a way of living life. South is an overcoming wave of heat. It is a rolling brightness. It drives one to the edge of taste and feel. This wave is a wave of disbelief and also of uncertainty and of depth and truth and everything else that is home cooking. Now is when the cacti and their flora stare into their south and take a deep breath and shout their convictions! It is a tug at an even bigger set of loves. --jw-- I don't like this very much, but here it is anyway. Maybe it needs some revisions. Maybe some major changes. Who knows. |
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