Tuesday, April 22, 2008

moby dick

twice now i have made a four mile run through the park near my house.
there's a section of the run that goes under an overpass.
it runs alongside the river and the other side is covered in graffiti but not the scary kind of graffiti you see in LA
this graffiti is bright with professions of love or political viewpoints.
but still there is a heightened awareness that exists in these places that i suppose no matter where would still make me pick up my pace.
i hear footsteps, loud, coming up behind me and i run faster with the sound of footsteps louder, closer, almost.
i don't want to look behind me, but if i am about to be killed i'll be damn sure i'm going to look the person in the eye
i whip my head around and there is no one...anywhere.
i slow my pace and the footsteps slow and i realize i am running away from myself
the echo of my own feet hitting the pavement
i find it profound, metaphorical, angering and sad.
i continue my run at a steady pace with creased eyebrows and a red face.

last friday i wait at a corner talking with one of my favorite people in the entire world.
"i spend so much time fighting myself. arguing if i'm a writer or not a writer. if i'm a big fraud. i think about what i'm really going to do with my life. i freak out. but the days when i can get over the fear of it all, i actually do write. like all day, i'll write. and i know that if i'm ever going to be successful, the biggest hurdle i will have to overcome is myself...and i hate that."
the confession makes me hate its honesty. hate its rawness and the fact that it now exists in the world for others to interpret, break down, analyze.
i feel like a failure. i feel old. i know i am young. the clock is ticking.
questions, arguments, all in my head all the time.
maybe i should just be living my life right now, enjoying each moment, taking in my space, my presence in this space, time.
give myself a break and be happy with the shit i put myself through.
in a perpetual battle to find meaning for my life or to find the greater purpose i know exists for me.
enjoying the pain in my legs that i have every morning from the torturous exercise i am putting myself through.
listening, really listening to the sound my computer keyboard makes when i get on a tangent.
loving each clack like it is the beat of a drum or some other vibrating musical instrument.

ani difranco's "shameless" comes on at this moment.
for the last two days i have kept my iTunes on shuffle finding pieces of music that i have never heard and finding meaning in their random arrangement
praise to the mac gods, i guess.
here's a woman who just went and fucking did it and didn't ask permission or forgiveness.
i think I'll listen to a few more from her today.

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