DISQUISITIONS
Today’s blog may be about my
day to day frustrations with everything not me, meaning I am too busy to
concentrate on me, and hence go ballistic and global and switch to Google News,
when I want to be out of the neighborhood, and acting worldly-like. And this is good as long as my body gets a
little sun, otherwise its Skin Dementia for me, and I start acting a little
crazy. But that is a different ordeal,
and today is about dreaming and deferral and compromise.
Epitome of a Failed
Life.
Maybe. Perhaps it is nothing more than having too
much time to sit around and think about the fatal flaw that encourages crazy
talk and seasonal ailments that come with Black Friday and money talk. And that is where I draw the line. Have no money, nor money talk. Staying silent on the subject, but will talk
about that elephant in the closet and my subject for today: DISQUISITIONS .
Working on something I call
The Reversal Test, when the sun has gone to visit Florida, and left me behind
clouds and torrential downpours that dislodge the essential components of a
healthy soul, and leave me experimenting from September to April, with my
condition: skin dementia and the long
curse of paleness that overcomes me.
Having said that, I will claim it is both arduous and undesirable, but I
am reluctant to just pack up and move in with the in-laws and family that has
oranges and shade trees in their backyard.
Instead I look for a
philosophical position that justifies my existence in the far away north. Having said that I continue my blog, which
is for me articles and compositions, and discussions and perhaps disquisitions
that could also be: dissertations and
explications and all those things we throw to the wind as paper and origami
birds, that tweet and fly around the world, serving as the daily distraction
and a remedy for skin dementia and an example of mind over matter, and life
without the sun.
So I am looking for a mental
cure to my condition, and the condition my condition is in. Visualize myself in Tony The Tiger pajamas,
walking into the Writer’s Café in South Beach (Miami ), in search for something
that provokes a fountain of youth in me, and more smiles than I normally enjoy
at home, this time of year.
Cold and Frozen Expression
of a failed life, losing out to skin dementia and a need to talk about it,
constantly. Comes down to my other life
and right and wrong ways to do it.
Exaggerating the consequence and making it sound more important than it
is, I venture on. A vulture in the
midst of 300 days of rain. Broken down and decomposing as mold spores on the
under carriage of self and society, weighted down as a free-falling origami
bird, no longer viable to fight the wind and weather and seasonal displays of
chaos. I am.
Rain-drenched scum and birds
of a different dimension, like Fiscal Cliff and Jerusalem and Syria. Why do I bother, as I can’t change a thing? Disquisitions are foolish in the scope of a
high-caliber rifle going off, and objects in free fall, hoping for a happy
landing, somewhere in time. And without
the sun, this is not happening for me, and no amount of talk or blogging about
will make it different. Not just now.
But for a change of subject
and state of mind, I can mention Christmas and Party Time is almost here. Get out the lights and the 18 year old
bottle of Scotch, which never gets open, but sits there. Taunting you. Confronting and comforting at the same time, I think about you
walking on South Beach, water bottle in hand, sun-glasses in modern tint and
fashion, and most of all I think about the sun.
I hope the following doesn't sound harsh because I do not mean it that way.
ReplyDeleteSometimes it's best to just deal with things the way they are.
I love what you wrote here, and I love the Tony the Tiger pajama get up too. :)
I have to say that sometimes it sounds like you are torturing yourself. I really enjoy reading your thoughts. And that's because I think that sometimes we have to do that to ourselves.
Thank You Eyee Vey for your honest and first say.
ReplyDeletedeal with it. is the bottom-line.
I smile. self torture. Its an art form.
sometimes the whole event of getting in out in writing, in public: is value of itself.
and the truth is I have the option to go to the sun, I just wait too long to do it, usually.
thanks for your comment. that was fun.
I'm only saying... ;)
DeleteIt's certainly not an easy task, dealing with it.
I've read over the years, various references to this: that sometimes we stay "stuck" (for lack of a better word) in what we are most familiar with, even if we are unhappy, or even longing for something else---because it is comfortable, even in its discomfort.
I do have so many practical things to do but you have directed me to Philosophical Disquisitions. I listened this morning to a program about the philosopher Bertrand Russell, which led after years of their thought to Wittgenstein who later changed his own ideas so I think maybe I'll look at his Later Philosophy.
ReplyDeleteMy relationship to the sun is important for me too. I enjoy the rising and setting and the brief period where it is above the horizon.
So sorry can't stay here longer.
Good to see you John. This was just a starter joint, to get you hooked on the philosophical. Just above the horizon is like head sticking out of water, I was to gasp the significance of air and with that a new thought. Happy Holidays and be well. I wish that for you and yours, and for all that read this gasp for air and the lonely hearts companion. Be well.
ReplyDeleteStill grappling with phoenix you introduced a few days ago.
ReplyDelete'Disquisition' is a new word for me. After reading your blog it turned up in a Steven's poem, 'The Constant Disquisition of the Wind'
ReplyDeleteThe sky seemed so small that winter day,
A dirty light on a lifeless world,
Contracted like a withered stick.
It was not the shadow of cloud or cold,
But a sense of the distance of the sun -
The shadow of a sense of his own,
A knowledge that the actual day
Was so much less. Only the wind
Seemed large and loud and high and strong.......
which touched on your sun theme.
I am left with the wind. G-d, if he speaks to me at all, is in the wind, articulated in trees and mountains and waves and lonely streets.
months later I return. Read what others have said.
ReplyDeleteJohn's poem resonates with me.
and Eye Vey keeps on track.
sometimes I am unsure how this seemed worth printing.
but then as time goes bye, I think. this is what you do. sometimes.