New Year’s Resolutions part dueces
The girl had been told not to touch anything she saw. The first thing she did was to put her finger in the bowl and lick the porridge off it. As soon as she had done that it was as though a barrier had been broken. She ran around the table and let her footprints cover the floor. She knelt and touched her muddy prints, leaving an intact thumbprint in one. She knocked the glasses to the floor with the back of one hand, shattering them to the last. She smashed her hand on the table and upset the remaining bowls. She mashed her hand into the food and smeared it into the wood. She blew raspberries with her tongue, leaving a coat of saliva on the silverware.
She was not finished when a figure entered the room. She cowered in the corner, raising her arms to shield her face. One arm was ripped off cleanly at the shoulder. A bone glinted from beneath her torn pinafore sleeve. She lowered her arms and found they were still attached. There was in fact no one in the room. A bowl was upset on the table but that was all.
I’m going to glorify this thing that hasn’t allowed me to write for the past two years and call it Writer’s Block. This thing is really just my stupid stubborn poor-decision-making law-school attending self, but I mean, who wants to go into the mistakes of a lifetime now? We don’t have all day. I remember the good old days (all ten of them) when this blog was for a poem a day. But these days I’m just so sick of words. They fill my head, I read them all day, I write 30 page exams of them. Whenever I sit down to write I feel tired of them. I feel tricked and done. I feel like I’ve spent too many of my days sittin behind words that don’t capture the truth, they don’t capture the feeling, they just make straight lines out of the mess. Maybe I’m on some next level transcending language shit…Or maybe I’m just lazy. Isn’t that the motherfucking question. I was just reading Mirror Film’s post on Black Swan, talking about the Imp and the Housekeeper and the Center et al and it made me start thinking about what’s been going on with my writing lately. the writing that i am not doing.
I remember when I used to write, and even consider myself a writer, I was always tryin to make words come out of their straight lines. I wanted to paint with them. I wanted to suggest feelings and images, I didn’t want to just write out a sentence and have you read it, and at the end of that sentence you’d know that Sally walked down the street and stood on a chair. I’d want you to see something or feel something or get your head in a different place. The train came out of the long tunnel into the snow country. Ever since I read Snow Country that’s been my favorite line of all lines. It’s beautiful, it’s simple. It makes me want to write. It makes me feel cold. It makes me see something. Not just a train coming out of tunnel. It makes me see the way the words are bending, the way the language bends. I wrote the first line of my novel tryin to capture that feeling I got when I read it. The road turns out from the harbor onto the gray island. Like I could paint with it.
I don’t know who I am anymore. I dont know what I want to be. I dont know if this not writing is cus I just dont want to deal with words anymore, or because my imp is fucking me over. Is this feeling I get when I start thinkin about writing something because it’s on to the next one for me? or is it cus I’m bein lazy and Im master of my own destiny and whatever I do I do whatever I don’t I don’t, etc etc.
I don’t know what Im’ doing in law school. I think I was depressed and I thought life had no meaning and I figured I might as well save a few ships before I go down into the depths. The funny thing now is I’m not really scared of what would happen if I dropped out in terms of my fam being mad or people thinking shit. Im scared of the motherfucking loan sharks. Dems dark waters out dere.
All my life theres been this emphasis on do do do, and this part of me that just wants to lie around and be. i alternately berate and coddle that part of me. i was engaging in some pleasant mind alteration the other day and i said to myself, self, whats the deal with all this doing? its not important man. just relax. just be. some part of me thats superbly masochistic/totally self absorbed and likes to dress up as a conscience (the world needs me to save it!!!) was upset by this, understandably, and not only because ive made nice with the big guns at direct loans and citi bank by assuring them that i will be making some sort of salary for the rest of my life, but because…dude, you have to give back right? pull up the people! pull up the poor. galgalagalalangalang. whoops wrong song. and art’s for the people too isnt it. and isn’t living just to live for the people too? and not being part of the man? but what about real life. what about a house (or at least a roof over your head) and food and shit? but im think to myself, law school is just a glorified vocational school that costs so much goddamn money and now im saddled in for life, or i cut out now and run from the bounty hunters as best i can.
im so tired, this post makes no sense. thats another thing. why am i spending my life, my one-time-only life, being tired all the time? tired and reading. ok ok, so 3 years is not necessarily “All the Time”, and we don’t all want to be hedonists and lotus eaters do we? do we?? do you?
i was talking to this very learned friend of mine about this experience i had, about how i think everyone should do it, and then we’d all realize that nothing is real man, its just all fake man. and she was like, oh you mean if the whole world did __ they’d all get on the social constructivism train? and i was like, oh is that what thats called? and once again, i said to myself, you paid how much for what degree? and you dont know shit? better go get another degree. like when you dont want to pay the $350 cancellation fee for your one-yr gym membership, so you keep paying the monthly fees or youd really feel like you wasted your money. and then you end up paying like, $7000 in monthly fees and you went to the gym once. thats sort of what law schools like.
anyways, we talked about that for less time than i would have liked but this was new years and who are we to sit around talking about social constructivism when we should be getting drunk, and she did say, well yeah but if everyone believes something’s important it does more or less become important (funny story about that in my US constitution class…fucking meaningless piece of work). and this is not so much the problem to me. the problem is the other side of that knife if you know whaddamean (you might not, i really am tired). we can all say something has meaning and boom its got meaning cus we all say it does. if we all say something, saaaaay the US constitution…means something, then it means something cus we’re all more or less followin waht it says and la di da, look how much easier and more organized everything got. we gotta have a system and for a system to work everyones gotta follow it. but you could have picked system a, b, c or d, it doesnt so much matter which one so long as everyone’s doing the same one.
but what about when we all say something doesn’t have meaning. then does it not have meaning just cus we all say so, or does that thing keep having meaning and we’re all just missing out on the best thing in our lives? to give an example, what if there’s a lake right beyond that mountain. and we all decide that lake’s dangerous so we act like the lake’s not there. the lake doesn’t stop existing though, we just all stop going down to drink. what does that mean. these are the questions.