Friday, October 20, 2006

Escape Velocity

I want to overcome this sanity that has gripped me since birth. This mind cocooned within bone knows everything as it is. It can create structure of incongruent information elements, like a web or a series of cubes stacked into place, leading to jumps in deduction, sometimes staggering. All of it filled with enough truth and logic, one can accurately realise the world should one fully ingest all of its information.
And I hate it.
It is not enough for a door to be just shut, ajar or fully open. Or even in the act of opening or closing. It should be the possibility of greatness if one is brave enough to cross the threshold. Or the barrier between life and excruciating death. Or perhaps it could mask a secret, a peeping tom gracing its shadow or a witness to a nefarious crime. With enough insanity, the door could have teeth that chomp or one eye that sees more than two. With adequate madness, the door could be a trap on a stage or a skylight to the stars. With sufficient crazy, the door should open and enter through you. But a door most certainly should never be a door.
I see one.
And it is a white rectangle through an infinite amount of black. Then the door is black and the unlimited white. The rectangle becomes a triangle and then the hole becomes solid and the boundless empty. My door waves then like a flag saluting seamlessly into a rip in the infinite. And forever it changes, alternating through unbounded combinations, and I wait. Through it I see my kitchen and my living room. I see the surface of Mars and the promise of a better tomorrow. I see my own birth and death collide. I see laughter and sorrow. I see the lips of absolute nothing whistle original compositions. I see myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself staring at myself tripping on an undone lace.
And I see you reading this.
I want to have a cracked mind leading me down sweaty, city streets with a copy of the constitution in my pocket, unable to fathom a notion except for the general lack of respect from the nations young to the nations founders. I want to stop you outside McDonalds, unroll the parchment delicately and ask you if you know. “Do you know who he is? You should. And him? No. Of course.” I want the bouncer to shrug his shoulders and tell you to walk on, to never mind this broken man. I want you to see, through my eyes, a life of complete abject isolation and frustration wrapped in a seldom-washed trench coat and I want you to say:
“A door shut for him one day, and no window ever opened.”

3 comments:

  1. Ooh.

    Frustration.

    It's like peering into the mind of that bloke trapped in the floating triangle from Superman III(?)

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  2. Terrance Stamp in Superman 2 (continuation of the opening of Superman 1)... as General Zod... because I suck at life.

    Also Clark in Smalville (the tv show) got the same treatment at the end of the last season... but that show is fucking awefull shit. So bad I almost stopped watching it.

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  3. Ah. I stand corrected.

    I never watch Smallville. It's just a load of whiny bullshit.

    Considering it has one half of the Dukes of Hazzard in it, there isn't enough donuting of Dodge Chargers for my liking.

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