Somethings are too new to be appreciated in the time that they are new and fresh. And others things are old, weathered and out of reach like a monkey in a very tall tree. Live in the moment. Blow at the candle flame and watch the light flicker. Sometimes you treat me bad, sometimes you treat me good. I do not know where I am on this roller coaster. What can I do? I cannot get off. I just have to ride it out.
I live in this strange place where I am not sure what anything really is or why anything is the way it is, so I cling unto the things I know until I find a way to end the sentence before I run out of words to describe the emptiness that is approaching. You are in a constant state of learning. Everything you ever wanted to know about silence. Life is your teacher and I am your puppet.
I like jazz and funk. From long time. The things I like do not hang on my shoulders, weighing me down. In fact I like a lot of music. Time and a place. I wish I could remember it all at once and flex lyrical, sell like five hundred and work at foot locker. Do what makes me happy every single second of the day with the right monkeys. I am a soul man. I am your ghost. I can preserve the past by pausing the future. I am looking to the sky to save me.
When the leaves fall in the backyard I sweep them up. I am finding comfort in sweeping the dry leaves every morning. The symbiotic relationship between the tree and the leaves and the walkway is like a iron ball rolling down a hill. The entire world exists so that leaves can fall onto the path every morning for me to sweep. Airplanes disappear in the Indian Ocean so that I can sweep the leaves. All things are perfectly balanced.
As much as I am trapped in my own bubble I find that I enjoy sitting in a new room and just being alive with no impetus to move or rush or go anywhere. I like having you around. This might have been a habit I have acquired recently or a monkey on my back, I am not really sure. A great weight has been lifted off my shoulder or maybe a cross that I have to bare, either way right now, everything will be alright.
They say pretty hurts. Like sand through the hour glass I dare not look it up on the wikipedia. I would rather not know and stay in the plane, watch the clouds than risk falling through them. I have been extending my days into nights hoping that the time passes faster than it normally should but time is constant and I be ducking. Time runs until it stops. It never slows or speeds up. Sometimes you just forget where you are, where you have been or what you are going. It all comes back to you eventually.
It has been over a year since I have been here. Nothing much has changed except for the prices and a few of the food shops have be swapped out, replaced by equally doomed establishments erected under the shadow of KFC, Island Grille and Little Tokyo. What have I learned? Nothing really, except maybe there is no permanent way to live life to the fullest. Life is sea in a glass on a boat, it only stays full for a while and then you have wait to fill it up again.
I could easily forget the rain that fell just yesterday but there are droplets that linger. I could plot a chart on the red wall for every street and corner but the lines would not fit. I could leave this place right now and drive to the end of the earth but I would drown in the sea beyond. There are always limits to how fast you can go. I think it has to do with the speed of light.
It's like going back to where you used to live and seeing all your old friends and not knowing what to say to them because so much time has pasted. The world has turned a thousand times. The world is constantly turning whether you are here or not. What you don't know can't hurt you but hind sight is 20/20.
Sometimes I have to endure other people's habits because they remind me that I am alive. I know I will miss them when they are gone. I need to start contrasting the things I write at certain times of my life, and certain times of the year. I bet I could correlate them and find a common thread. It has all been done before. When you thinking that I done.
As much as I revel in my moments of solitude they tend to creep up on me unexpectedly like a monkey in the jungle. Unplanned and never prayed for like a happy accident or mysterious hand reaching down, separating me from my troubles and the people I care about. Now is the winter of our discontent. And it must happen, why I do not know. I guess if I was not here now in a room full of people, drinking sorrel then I would not exist at all because there is no alternate scenario, nothing that I must wish for. There is only the here and now. I must learn.
Everyone has a level of tolerance for imperfection. The world is an imperfect place or else everyone would live forever until they drown in a sea of experiences, moments and feelings. Time moves on. There will always be ice cream in the fridge as long as there is someone to put back the same amount that you took out. Everything in balance. Eventually you will find comfort in the bad times knowing that they are just balancing out all the good times we've had. You are just a feeling.
There is a point when you leave the frozen lap of luxury and step out into the blazing sun. You feel the warmth on your face. There are two people in this world; me, you and the ones we call "other people". There must be some way out. And even if you make it out for a while you will have to go back inside the frozen temple of slavery. You are free for a little while. Enjoy the sun, smell the flower in the garden, take a deep breath.
They stopped having having free refills of soda water. I am not sure how I feel about this. Ever since I saw the tank of CO2 that they store at the back of the building my attitude towards carbonated beverages have been less than fizzy. Life goes on. I did not put value to it in either case. One should put value into what a thing really is and not what they hope it will be in the future.
What have I learnt from writing these entries down? I am not sure. Maybe I will have enough to fill up a book or make a movie or something. Maybe in some future time someone will leave facebook and venture out into the desert and dig up old dinosaurs of the internet era. Who is to tell? What does it all mean? Does everything have to have a meaning? Must everything be understood? Can anything be understood? All I know is one day we will look back at all this and say something - hopefully something nice.