Episodes In, Out of, but Never Outside the Smoke-Filled Coffee Shop

After that old man died, I thought of him; I talked to him. It was funny--I talked to him in unexpected moments about unexpected things. I told him about the girl, and the play of the ocean, and the days. I don't know why--but I talked. I spoke. I expressed.

Did he respond? Of course not, he was dead. What are you crazy?

After that old man died, I couldn't bear the weight of reflection. Instead of thinking, I danced. Instead of figuring, I played. Goodness what a feeling--to lose yourself in the dance and to play in the play. Goodness what a feeling--to forget the burden of it all in the movement, the forces, the difference.

I sat with friends and laughed. I sat with friends and tried. We tried together. We never talked about trying together--that was the implicit part I guess; but we tried together. We ate. We drank. We laughed. We complained. We wept. This is life. This is trying. We all try our best, you know? What more do you want? You want me to swallow the ocean every day without drowning? Well, fuck you. I'd rather either drown, or not deal with the ocean.

Accidents and Love

So she said what's the problem baby
What's the problem I don't know
Well maybe I'm in love (love)
Think about it every time
I think about it
Can't stop thinking 'bout it

Two things: Problems and "I don't know." First, obviously something is wrong--something is out of sorts--out of equilibrium; just not right. But, what? This brings us to 2, or problem number 2--I don't know. If there is a problem, shouldn't I know about it? And, how come she has to ask me for me to realize it? Then . . . What? Love? That seems drastic don't you think? From a problem (one I don't apparently know about) to love in just one breath? I can't stop thinking about it though. Which one--love or the problem? I don't know--the two have become indiscrete now--now that is the problem.

How much longer will it take to cure this
Just to cure it cause I can't ignore it if it's love (love)
Makes me wanna turn around and face me but I don't know nothing 'bout love

Now finally to a question that makes sense: How much longer? How much longer to cure this problem I don't know about? And, if it's love, I can't ignore it? Now finally to an answer--I don't know anything about love, just like I don't know anything about my problem. I do want to turn--in the same moment I want to both turn and run from this problem of love I don't know about, and also turn towards me--myself--even though I don't know nothing about love. Could I learn? What is there to learn about love? And, if you can learn about it, is it love? Probably not. The problem--while becoming more elucidated--seems to be becoming more unknown.

Come on, come on
Turn a little faster
Come on, come on
The world will follow after
Come on, come on
Cause everybody's after love

Turn faster? Which way? The world? I don't think I want the world following me here--following me to face myself. I don't know if everyone is after love--it seems, and this is the point, that if love is a problem that requires me to face myself--maybe for the first time--then everyone, including me isn't after love, but instead, I come after love as love comes upon me.


Well baby I surrender
To the strawberry ice cream
Never ever end of all this love
Well I didn't mean to do it
But there's no escaping your love

That is what this problem takes, doesn't it? Surrender. Surrender of me to myself and to you simultaneously. I'll try. But surrender implies no escaping--even if I want to. Surrender means it has me--you have me--and, maybe this is the most scary part, I have you.


We're accidentally in love
Accidentally in love

Accidentally is the right adjective. Love is an accident, and only an accident. If we were after it--it wouldn't be a problem, and we would certainly think we knew something about it. But, as it stands, it is a problem and it is one of which I know nothing. Love comes after me--and I only come--appear--after love--before you--in you. Accidentally--any other way and love is no longer a problem--and that is a problem of which nothing can be done.

Love ...I'm in love

I'm in the problem and in the un-knowing. I'm in the surrender and in control. I'm in you and falling out of you. It's a problem--one I hope I stay in, and one I hope never to know nothing about.

Thrown before the throes which govern existence--life--breath--I faltered. I left a temple of security for a sky full of, yes, beauty, but also, darkness and only scattered lights. It was here I searched for an anchor--a grounding--a sign that could orient me to my lattitude--one that would clue me into the strange game played on this locale.

As I did, I tried. I promise, I tried. I tried to prove. I tried to show. I tried to find. I tried to help. In so doing, I made smiles, impressions, fools, and hurt. In so doing, I faltered and found not the signifier I so desperately needed to help me along life's way.

At some point however, I met the Universe. I met the Abyss which constitutes the light, the dark, and the difference between the two. I met the One disseminated into an infinite amount of parts never to be reassembled ever again (or ever before). I met the voice that calls through silence and never speaks.

You know what I heard in that moment?

"Trust, try, and thank. Don't prove to anyone that you belong in this locale--why not? Because none of you do and none of you ever will. Don't try to fool yourself into thinking you are more or better--why not? Because you know--in every breath--you have no signifier--no anchor--no Being--to tell you such things. And, there is no point in doing so. Play the role in the play which you have been given-play in the play and rejoice in its in-finitude--its lack of determinacy--its endless play. Play in the play and thank--not "me", not One, not you--along the way. Just thank. Realized that in every moment those with you in this barren and fruitful topos are just as lost and just as at home as you. Realize they are doing their best in every breath with no guide and no signifier. Thank and try. Swallow, but don't drown."

You know what I said?

"Ok"

More or Less Dancing

It's funny you know . . . This business of dancing. I don't know the words and I don't know the song. Worse yet, I don't even know the steps. I guess that is what makes it no business at all--there is no purpose, no destination, and no know-how. I guess that is what makes it a game--a game to be played without rationale, without recourse, without worry.

But, it's hard not to worry, isn't it? I remember when we danced so long ago--across an ocean or two--in a world of transition, tremor, and excruciating temporality. It has been some time now. But I know I worried then too. I want to play, but I want to play right. You know?

So, that leaves the questions: Can you dance and worry at the same time? Probably not. How does one play--that is, enter the dance--without worry? How does one suspend their past--their-self--the scars from past dances--long enough to lose their-self in the dance with an-other?

I pray for the strength to be weak that way. I pray for the miracle of suspension and the triumph of desire over the still lingering, still residual "why". But, most of all, I pray that someday I'll dance and sing a song without knowing the words. I pray that I'll play in a world unworldly, in a way exquisitely and all too (in)appropriate.