Posted on March 12th, 2008 in
art and
writing.
Trackback link.
Sometimes my mind wanders. I can’t move and I am connected rigidly to my chair – staring out the window at the apartments and the hills and the train track winding through the houses and disappearing behind the strip mine traveling down the peninsula. Ennui and bland contentment, a feeling of stagnation – nothing is happening. I pick up a book and read a few pages before tossing it down. I listen to my music – I feel as if I’ve heard each song a thousand times before. I pick up a different book – it bores me and I toss it to the floor. Moving to the couch I look out the window. A different view – more apartments but now I can see the bay and down the coast of the peninsula. Jetties and concrete piers and small fishing huts and phone towers. My mind is tired and my thoughts, languid, make me drowsy. This is the sickness I must fight. I change the song – I’ve heard it before. My mind wanders. I have seen the empty ocean and gazed upon the biggest sky you have ever seen, the Milky Way a brilliant streak across a canvas of midnight. I have in no way felt so marvelously alone as when I am on the sea with the black salt spray on my face and lips, the night never as immense and consuming as it is hundreds of miles from the closest human creation. I know what it is to feel insignificant, naked on Mother Nature’s blue canvas. Now I sit alone in my apartment a thousand miles away – a thousand miles away from what? I am only half the story, a man in suspended animation and I am slowly coming to terms with my longing. I need you woman. I need you to make me feel alone with you because I am tired of feeling alone without you. The city can mask my aching heart for only so long.
