Things i have forgotten…
Ξ December 9th, 2008 | → 0 Comments | ∇ everday, wisdom |
The title is oxymoronic, i know. (also i might have just invented an adjective, sweet!) To remember something we have forgotten suggests that we have not forgotten it at all. Something lost is only truly lost as long as it is never found again, obviously. But what if we misplace something, only to find that it has changed in the time it has taken us to locate it? Is it found? is it unlost? or is it something completely new, discovered in the same place where something once was? these thoughts tend to give me a headache, as i find myself able to argue two sides of the same discussion; 2, maybe 3 debates, simultaneously happening. Words overlap. Sentences never end, as the pause of silence normally created by the ever powerful period are filled with the theoretical ponderings of the other.
I sit here drinking a beer after what feels like the all too commonplace work day. A blur of actions and people. Thoughts and faux paus…es? Whats the plural of that? Maybe its like geese, where the plural of faux paus is just “faux paus” though it could be like Ox. Faux pausen? no that cant be right. i could look it up online, or maybe i should just study french. ill put that on the list. My inablility to pluralize the french language only adds to the failures of today. Though, i find myself very lucky. With my work schedule as intensive as it is, i dont have time to dwell on my short comings of the day. I only have a few moments, maybe an hour at best, where i can focus on my errors before the new day has started and i get to imagine how many other ways i can bring about my own demise. Ah, the gift of hope. isnt it just wonderful? i need another beer…
Beer acquisition: successful! System boot error. Please consult manual.
I find myself slipping into autopilot mode more and more frequently each day. earlier too. autopilot is the state of being by which menial labor is best endured, as it allows the mind to completely shut down and the body to act on instinct. It almost like breathing in your sleep. you dont know you’re doing it, but as long as you’re not a drooler, it continues to happen unbeknownst to your conscious. i can remember a time where there were days on end, open to me where free thought flowed like wine, which coincidentally, had the same effect. Have you ever been drunk on possibilities? moments where you get so excited about an idea that your lips let loose words that you wouldnt normally say. where the sheer intoxication of imagination caught you stumbling as you walked, your pace short, fast, and unpredictable. i would rush home to test equations like a sugar-fed kindergartner searching for his next fix. ive always found it funny that sugar made me act as irrationally as alcohol and that it is from sugar that alcohol is produced. Dont even get me started on candy cigarettes. i need a cigarette…
You’re probably saying to yourself, “Self (as we all consciously refer to ourselves as), what does any of this have to do with what the hell chris claims to have forgotten?” If you arent thinking that, pretend you did, as the following explanation applies only to those of you that did and in turn, those who didnt will only dig themselves deeper into the unawaredness (new noun?) of the point i am trying to make.
Wonderful question, i say to you, both who did ask it, and those just playing along. Very clever indeed. Give yourself +2 curiousity points. You’ll be able to cash those in later. promise. My point is clear. if you’ve figured it out already, thats +1 conclusion point and -3 suspense points for ruining my epiphany which i am about to share. I have forgotten…shit, wait, where was i going with this. i think i know the answer. Bismark? No, that cant be it. Ah yes.
I have forgotten how to be excited.
I have forgotten the rush that the unknown brings. i have stopped being adventurous and traded in my journeyman’s boots for non-skid kitchen safe dress shoes with arch support. And, like someone who has given up sugar for splenda, i have forgotten how sweet it can be. There are things about me that can only be explained by simply stating them. Some are strange, some are familiar, but all are me and my and mine. With you, i am about to share some of the simplest yet most profound pleasures of my life. i need a life…
One. i have forgotten how much the page of a book can feel like a lover’s touch. you start slow, getting to know the wording, the phrasing, the odd…
…pauses. the smell of the pages entices you. As your interest perks up, so does your speed. yearning to know why and when and who, you read faster and faster. pages blurring in your hand. 99, 100, 101, 212, 487. Building. Climbing. a good book can make you oblivious to the world around you. finally your eyes draw near to the moment when all will be revealed. nearly out of breath and filled with anticipation, the solution comes into your brain. YES! DONT STOP! RIGHT THERE! why do you think they call it the climax? as the resolution finishes, your fingers linger, slowly taking in all the details, so as not to miss one morsel of information. there is peace. i suppose thats why so many of us read before bed. and then we sleep, only to wake to the same book next to us, bookmark in place, pages bent from tossling on the paper in our sleep. we go our separate ways, each with its on agenda. Me, going off to work to provide for us; it, still asleep in my bed …waiting underneath/in between the covers. Each night, we have our fun, but like a lover, books come to an end. Some books have sequels. they are one, in a series, continuing the story from the last. but they are not the same book.we visit the library looking for something, not new and original, but that reminds of the book we love. i like to think of the library as a brothel, getting the sloppy seconds and thirds of another. Each books has had other readers before us but when they are with us, we are only theirs and they only ours. but when we try to keep they, we pay the price. so how do you stay with only one book? that is something i have forgotten…
Two. I judge people on their intelligence. They are weighed on a scale, with me as the counterweight. More times than id like to imagine, the scales are tipped in my favor. There are those that think anagrams are miniscule units of weight (ie: drops of water weigh roughly 12 anagrams) when in truth a “drops of water” are equivalent to a “poet’s forward”. There are people that dont see the beauty in a “reward drawer”. And there are people that think 11235813 is a random number. If you’re unable to understand these simplest of puzzles, how can you help me unravel the riddle of life? One might assume therefor, that the larger the grey matter, the higher i hold you in higher regard. Such is not the case. Most times, the ego blocks the sight of a sideways 8 or blurts the punch line to the mathematical statement of r^3d. The trick is finding the balance. so much of math is balance. science too. but how do you balance the equation where i = x and u = y such that x and y are two unique numbers where x+y=1 and x-y=0. that is something i have forgotten…
there are so many more. i dare not start another, for the words might never end. id continue typing on and on into the morning, through lunch, and back into midnight. my body would tired long after your eyes did and on and on id write. unfortunately for me, knowing when to quit is something else i have not forgotten.