A Collection of Spectacles

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Society (and by society I mean American society, or maybe even Western society, as I can’t speak to the collectives of others) seems to need and thrive off of the juxtaposition of opposite, opposing values. Over the weekend, I had to read an excerpt from Giorgio Agamben’s book, and at one point, he examined this idea perfectly. “In the American Constitution one thus reads, without any distinction, ‘We the people of the United States.’ Yet when Lincoln invokes a ‘Government of the people, by the people, for the people’ in the Gettysburg Address, the repetition implicity opposes the first ‘people’ to another ‘people.'” In other words, the use of the word has come to mean both “people,” or the common person, the poor and disenfranchised, and “People,” the “whole political body” that is all-inclusive. The term then encompasses everyone, while also mentioning a very specific sect of people.  It successfully demonstrates the existence of both inclusion and exclusion, upon which laws are based.

Along the same vein, religion is a haven for such co-existing polar opposites. Abraham had to believe that killing his son was the right thing to do, for God told him to, but he simultaneously had to believe that God is love. To Kierkegaard, such a belief in two opposing views defined faith.

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Thoughts come and go, rapidly jumping from one thing to the next. Sometimes thoughts enter as if stuck on repeat. A tape recorder plays its message and is then rewound, and played again. 

We sit together on the porch outside. It is six, maybe seven, in the morning. Her face is barely visible. Together, we fail to understand why some men can’t separate liking someone from wanting to sleep with them. As if, to truly like someone you have to fuck them. 

An Imaginary Excursion: He and I. Me and him.  Intertwining. We conjoin for extended moments and then separate. The motion is repeated. Over. Over. Skin’s pressed to skin. Shallow breaths. 

It all comes over me at once, a cascading waterfall of flesh, inching down my sides and back. Up and down. Up. Down. Enveloping everything. 

[exit scene]

It’s three, maybe four, in the morning. I run my hand over face and feel a blemish on my forehead. Every time I feel it, it’s like I’m touching a foreign object, something that shouldn’t be there. I will proceed to pick at this all day. 

His eyes, blue–wait no maybe brown, and lifeless scan the room. He is incapable of looking at anyone directly for more than a few seconds. When his glances are returned, his eyes dart in different directions. 

Later, he lies face down, face pressed into the carpet. He’s one of those you name the drug, I’ve tried it, kind of men. I find something faintly beautiful in this.  I ask, “So what do you like to do?”

“For fun?”

“Yeah.”

He says something about how he likes to smoke and drink and-I cut him off. 

“No, NO. Other than that. Everyone has their something, a something that makes them tick. What’s yours?”

By now I’ve consumed an obscene amount. It takes so much to make me feel comfortable now, to make conversation flow more easily. 

Finally, he admits that he likes to play the guitar. 

Now I’m sitting and wondering if I’m thought about ever, if only in a passing whisper, a quick pitiful fracture in time. I feel indifferent at this point, surprisingly, because I know I’m not. I’m keeping a firm grip on matters long gone and those that have never occurred (and probably never will). 

How am I going to love?! I don’t know its shape, its form. I don’t know what it looks like.

Inside, daylight sneaks through my window, teasing me with it’s warmth. Outside, hints of Spring fill the air.

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people aren’t always people to me. in reality, people are complex multi-layered beings with favorable qualities and faults but, for some reason, i can’t always see that. sometimes, a person isn’t viewed as an individual in their own right and instead, exists as a living representation of something important, something that i need in order to move past a past event, or a quality that i admire, a “something” that i need to be around.

the need to keep each individual’s unique brand of something in my life makes me want to tighten my hold on it, but i realize that people can’t be collected and kept like objects. because of this, i worry about sharing too much, because i don’t want to seem needy. i want to appear “in control.” i also worry about not showing enough. i don’t want to appear cold or removed, because i don’t want to lose anyone (and once i’ve bared my more sincere side and shared this with another person, my greatest fear is being abandoned).  

i asked, “if you could live in a world without consequences, what’s the first thing you would do?”

“kill myself.”

“why?”

“no consequences. i could shoot my face off all day.”

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“…fuck ’em. fuck anyone who doesn’t want you because you are a smart and creative and funny and pretty. you are worthy of the best love in the world and, one day, you will find someone. it may take you a while, but that’s only because you’re one of a kind.” 

my father said this today, after he went on one of his rants. i thought it was nice of him. 

i guess everyone should believe that because it’s true. everyone will find someone, eventually. the rest can go to hell. i mean it. that rule applies to me too. if i’ve ever fucked anyone over and made them feel as if they weren’t worthy of affection then i deserve a “fuck you” as well.  

i can’t stop listening to angel in the snow. it’s such a beautiful song.

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shit

(the perfect word to start this post)

on my 17th birthday, my parents got all nostalgic, bought me huge balloons and left them in my room. the balloons were fine to have around, at first, but eventually they became annoying. i had to move them out of the way when they floated in front of the tv and they looked awfully creepy at night. instead of popping them all and throwing them in the garbage, i figured i’d dispose of them differently. one day, i opened the top part of my window (the part that lacks a screen) and released them, one by one. 

when you enter situations (even those that seem to use up all your energy), try your best to do what you feel is right. if you don’t get the result you want then try a different method. be willing and open to do this. 

however, if you do all this and yet you still find yourself arriving at the same conclusion and the only action left is to let go then don’t hesitate to do so. this way of going about things probably shouldn’t be followed when school or work is concerned but maybe there’s some truth to it as far as people are concerned. 

humans are not math problems or vocations.

you can’t force people to do anything. you can be subservient and grovel. you can be headstrong and yell. that doesn’t change the fact that the only person anyone can control in life is him or herself. 

so. like the child who is tempted to cry after the balloon he decides to attach to his wrist makes the decision to leave him that very same day, ascending towards The Great Nothingness, we all must deal with letting go when the time comes. we all will deal with this differently. 

i’ve come to this conclusion a million different ways at a million different points in my life for a multitude of reasons each time. 

maybe it’s time i actually start believing in it. 

i can’t think of a way to end this correctly

so here i feel forced to place

the umpteenth period

the punctuation mark which

with its simplicity bears the

beautiful power of killing and

at the same time starting things anew 

.

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