A Day Before the 20th

Or maybe not.

All the time when I was there, I was reminded why I got there at all. Why I did all that and in the end to feel the things that are beyond everything you could ever think you could feel. "Obsession exhausts the man" is the truth. And here it is: a way to rest your bones for a little while. But like they said, to give up the obsession takes a highest level of mastery.

Two days ago, the story of the back wheel came back to me. 23 pieces of words from people but it's all subsumed. Reminders reminders reminders. The back wheel says you can never catch up and it's true. It's definitely true. This is nothing to do with social constructs, nothing to do with "you can do whatever you want to do." Nah, some things just are and to think otherwise is to be cowardly - to alienate the self from the implications of living. We cannot possibly think of reaping the benefits of life (the morning coffee, the smiles, the quiet) and ignore the nasty bits. That's obnoxious at best. To conveniently label anything that is slightly unsavory as being "subjective" and "socially constructed" - what euphemisms for "selfishness."

Time is always the same wherever you go. What you call it changes - yes. But IT does not. Every year for you is a year for me. Every year for them is a year for us. Even if we never came up with the concept of the "year" as a unit of time - every 365 days (or its equivalent in minutes, in seconds, in things that make up those units in turn) is 365 days too for whoever the fuck is whereever the fuck. Who wants to stand up with their hand on their hearts to tell me that time is also a social construct?

Had a good one, have a good one. Then there's the whole world.

Dangling

There is only one way and that way is so out of everyone's mind.

Three days from now on the 36th. Again, no matter how much has passed, the difference will still forever be the same. The same. The same. This is what we stopped everything for. The inevitable the same.

Amsterdam Avenue was the quiet Monday. No - the names of days don't matter in the context of larger things. People are all listeners - save the ones who lose the ability to listen to the words of other people. Many people it turns out, are exactly like that. We accumulated everything so one day, when our bones give way and we lose our existential coherence, we can have grounds to ask one last thing before it all burns to dust:

Why?

All this talk but yet to what avail? None. So many things you say, do, feel, hear and never still enough is it. All these lives that pass before our eyes and still, never enough is it. I said, did, felt, heard. Fantastic. Now what? Exactly. Whenever it is at the very recesses of my mind, it resurfaces to remind me that the difference will still forever be the same.

On the street. The rain. And then the closed stall so I had nothing to show. Only little bits of weathered water in my hair. And the table in the middle of all other tables. That's when it told me - the difference will always be a difference.