Suspension

Whenever I caught wind of what was going on, I was torn. On the one hand, it seemed smartest to leave the phone turned off, go out perhaps, and generally pretend that I was totally oblivious to what was afoot. In the off-chance that things got really bad, I had to prepare beforehand as to what statements I would make. I would profess complete ignorance, of course, but admit my concerns that things would turn out this way. No one could accuse me of negligence, I told myself. But at the same time, I knew all this was only delaying the inevitable. Much better to get it over with, to see just how bad things were. I would turn on the phone with a minor tremble of my hands, and spend the next minute or so in the opposite end of the house, just hoping I would come back to a blank screen. When I returned, invariably I would it be as I feared: confirmation. My heart would sink and pulse quicken. Reading that missive would leave me with nothing to do but lie down, waiting in terror for the next installment. Once an hour or so had passed - the window of opportunity past - I would somehow get up and try to pretend the whole thing never happened. Until the next time.

Thinking on those times, I feel inclined to ask whoever cares to listen whether I'm owed some of those hours back. But if once I thought that was what a just world demanded, now I'm not so sure. Indeed, I think there was a lesson I had to learn the hard way: no one has the slightest plan on saving you from your own choices. "Wish that I knew what I know now..."

There is a shocking lack of beauty in my life. How do I correct this? There are many things that bring me pleasure. But I can't help but feel that without strong personal relationships, there is always going to be a hole gnawing away that no amount of steel pedal, comedy, or gaming bliss can fill.

The rule of the game is that a move, once played, cannot be overturned. As these things go, this seemingly arbitrary dictum is only a source of frustration to those who feel their winning hand was unfairly denied by a seemingly trivial misstep. Once the screaming and crying is over, it is worth asking whether the rule teaches one anything after all. Well, take no move for granted, most obviously. Perhaps as obviously, a game one can't lose doesn't deserve its name.

1) The Triffids, "Wide Open Road". Sometimes I listen to a song after a long time, and I try to remember the initial thrill I had on first hearing it. In general, I find this impossible, even by my obsessive life-cataloguing standards. There is a class of songs for which I can do a bit better, which are ones that prompted me to write a response, or at least an acknowledgement to them on first listen. Here, that urge is not only remembered, but resurrected. It reminds me of how remarkable it is that we have have these catalysts for either germinating or awakening certain strands of thought and feeling within ourselves. The former is rarer, and the latter involves a complex marshalling of moods, ideas and emotions that would otherwise pass us by, drowned as they are in the sea of consciousness. Any form of art, but in this context lyric or song writing, is all the more remarkable in how the artist finds a way to capture these delicate, gilded things, and hold in their hands an artifact that stands firm against time and its servants, one which divines these same truths for anyone else privileged enough to get the chance to hold it.