Wednesday, April 21, 2004
The ground beneath her feet
And suddenly, motion isn't relative any more.
Sunday, April 11, 2004
I felt dirty afterwards
I am not particularly good at fantasy--sexual or otherwise. Sure, like anyone, I have romantic, psychological and geographical crushes now and then. I imagine what it would be like to be somewhere, to be someone, to be with someone. But I'm not particularly good at these; the future, now the present, is not what I ever thought it would be. Or we can phrase it differently: I am unable to effect my desires--realistic or not.
As a result, I tend to live in the past. But this must stop. I have found out, the hard way, that I don't want the past anymore. That the past has put forth the illusion of betrayal, though such betrayal is really the pain of change. At a time when my future is so uncertain, and my confidence undercut irrevocably, the past makes me anxious--the accomplishments of past family and friends are making my veins squeak.
Or, I'll phrase it yet another way: that sitting on a bench in Union Square, thinking I moved on some time ago, I realize that it is the setting and characters that have moved. I was on a train, I suppose--and he and she and any number of others got off the train though I stayed on. I was betrayed by the ground, by the illusion of motion between a train and its tracks. But as he told me, only the tracks were moving.
As a result, I tend to live in the past. But this must stop. I have found out, the hard way, that I don't want the past anymore. That the past has put forth the illusion of betrayal, though such betrayal is really the pain of change. At a time when my future is so uncertain, and my confidence undercut irrevocably, the past makes me anxious--the accomplishments of past family and friends are making my veins squeak.
Or, I'll phrase it yet another way: that sitting on a bench in Union Square, thinking I moved on some time ago, I realize that it is the setting and characters that have moved. I was on a train, I suppose--and he and she and any number of others got off the train though I stayed on. I was betrayed by the ground, by the illusion of motion between a train and its tracks. But as he told me, only the tracks were moving.
