mephausto

.something from the tablet.

where to start

you can't help but start where you are, automatically present at point A, "A" for arbitrary because you're there even if you don't want to be, constantly stuck where you are with the faint idea that there could be a point B, something possible only if you could leave point A, a futile task because, yes, you are always at the same point of now, only able to segment things backwards, to place point B behind you and follow the line you tried to hold straight in the quest to find points ahead, constantly arriving and constantly departing

that is, if you believe in the reality of a timeline, in past and/or future existence, to say that the past is still alive an not just in synaptic storage, that the future is already alive and we're just waiting for its arrival, not just improvising with the flow of stimuli, that there are other points, real points aside from this word we've created called now, the moment, the place we cannot escape from and not hold on to, always too solid and always too ephemeral, a moment wasted or a moment sustained are, in the end, all the same

but where to take this

i'm sitting here debating time, telling tales on being stuck in the moment when i'm haunted by the sensation of impending events, some foreboding grand shadow overhead, the tidal wave that dims the sun, some whirling momentum of giddy wonder and dreadful anxiety of what could be, how events could unfold, all the while questioning where i am, where i am going, how this time could be different, or is it different, has this become something new or is it the same towering monolith that has always been over my shoulder

and i'll tell you how this time could go, yes, how in some crowded environment there could be long glances blending into short conversations as boundaries are tested, and as scents and pheremones mingle with longer words shared, eye contact lingers until other parties separate the growing heat, though inevitably she's there, eyes on mine, expectant smile waiting for my instigation just moments in front of me, and i'll sigh, knowing this will only and absolutely lead to long nights of dizzy euphoria and worry, lingering stubborn partings and sleepy phone calls, conversations long into wandering journeys until quiet hands speak intimately in dark neighborhoods, with only more questions raised as time goes on

but it won't happen like that, no, it won't happen at the party or on the dance floor, it won't happen so easily again, it won't happen while i still feel like it will, no, not until i give up on impending events, until i give up on the whole thing once again, coming confused and convoluted, painfully difficult in the matters of ease, some circumstance blocking connection, preventing success until i give up on the whole thing one more time, resuming self-sufficient nothingness

that's when the wave hits

choosing how to end

is only choosing where to begin once more
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ps i do not mean to ignore, i'm just frightfully busy, but i will be in touch with you all soon.