it is so much easier to look at our lives and say ok, i have my babyhood, my childhood, my schoolhood, my collegehood, my jobhood, my marriagehood, my divorcehood, my grandparenthood, and it is so much nicer to sit back and be happy and enjoy this natural progression of roles. to sit back and be happy and have friends and go places and sing songs and worry about things like what food to bring to the church brunch.
if you see time as being a being of infinite size and breadth, it’s like the joke of the three blind men and the elephant. what if there is another blind man there and he just says “there are an infinite number of elephants here if you can just get past seeing this one as a big grey sack of flesh.”
i want to be able to talk with people i knew a million years ago and introduce them to people i have yet to meet.
i would love to run fast enough that the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. but no matter how fast you run east, you can’t make time turn backwards.
lives lived parallel to each other separated by all things but the passage of time. people on the outside thinking to themselves “my god they would be perfect for each other.”
we just live our lives in little isolated spheres, and the mistake, maybe is to think “i sure am lonely in my isolated sphere, would you please come and join me in my isolated sphere?” maybe it is better to just ask yourself if you are doing everything that you ought to and if there is any other person out there doing the same thing, their vibrations pass through the ether so that when you are sleeping you will feel their existence in your dreams and know that while you may be lonely and alone, something out there knows that the two of you are there in the world and maybe someday you will meet. maybe you are neighbors.
our loneliness is what makes us search for things.
i live by the ocean and the waves stop and everything is still and silent and glassy and i decide to fashion a boat out of a tree and it takes me a million years but what the hell, i have the time and i head out across the ocean. “what the hell,” right? i have the time.
if we lived for a million years, would anything excite us anymore?
is it the things that we have not done, the things that we wish we could do that make life worth living? and if so? what is the real difference between wanting to do it and actually doing it? what the hell, we have the time. we have an ocean here that we wake up to every morning.
so go ahead, you know? build a boat. you have the time. there is a whole glassy unexplored ocean out there to discover. and once you’ve gone far enough and memorized what the horizon looks like and you start to go a little bit crazy… you’ll see.
i want to be able to drown myself in a kiddie pool on stage. i like seeing people get wet on stage. in water i mean. ha ha haha. it is funny to get wet on stage especially if you fall in water. i am falling in water to kill myself, though, so you better stop thinking that everything is so darned funny, ok? maybe the guy is killing himself because he wants to be able to finish life now before he gets to the next bend in the river. right now he has done everything that he wants to do and he doesn’t want to hear anything more about it. he doesn’t want to know about what might be coming around the bend because he doesn’t want to want it. he definitely doesn’t want to know about all the things that he has done less than perfectly in his life because he might then want to go back and redo it. “oh, but you got to meet me!” she says so perkily. and he flops back over into the pool, completely convinced that he should have died about one minute ago.