hook, line, and sinker.

many have been posing me the question the last few days: "so, what have you been up to?"
i should have expected it. a trip home for camping and conversation will always prove inquisitous. graduation parties, family gatherings and buying a cup of coffee all have similar questions tied on.
my answer is: "existing."
i have been spending hours balanced on my head, well figuratively, but in a sense in all reality. as the conclusion of "the dharma bums" spells out, we are all in fact already upside down in a world full of emptiness. perception is everything.
curses and blessings, all taste the same when you have a mouth full of blood. straining to make words, forcing smiles that drip from the corners. this is the burden of eternal optimism. this is the toll of continual struggle. it is easy to keep your head up when you've got the noose around your neck.
watch the sky turn and change; continually shifting and stirring. then the lightning flashes, and bathes us all in light. a quick breath in the darkness, a reprieve from the shadows that have been painting these dirty city streets as of late.
for a few minutes every day i turn something over and over in my head. an inspection of hard granite in my hands, observing every flaw and deciding if each gives character or destroys worth. i want to give it all away. a stop at a goodwill store. a shirt on my back covered by a loaded pack, outlined in a shadow by the setting sun in front of me. i miss the vagabond life, i dream of the stray dog's freedom. no obstacles, just a trudge through life. finding routes to safe havens, searching for lunch behind the 4th st. diner in some modern metropolis.
ten pounds of rice and i could make it two months. twenty and i could make a new life. one based on highway signs and railroad ties. packing up into the ranges of the northwest, finding muir's dreams, finding my own dreams. i long for skies so heavy with stars they have no choice but to hang down to the horizon. i hunger for piles of rock so tall they pierce the same skies and force the stars to rain down, showering us in light.
i'm looking for a backdoor out of my own head. somewhere to let my soul in and out so it can float around the ceiling, fly around the atmosphere: playing tag with satellites. i feel contained. my flesh will rip at the seems if i continue to be careless with this containment. there is something larger inside of me, and it is begging to be let out.
so for now, i keep my mind occupied: wash the dishes, launder the clothing, dust the shelves, read some passages, meditate, watch the news wires, longboard the neighborhoods, lift weights, follow the hockey finals, hang with the boys, spend time with the girl, wash the car, build those shelves. where is this all heading to in reality?
it is all procrastination on a greater life. we become trapped in our kitchens, cleaning sinks and washing things until it all shines stainless steel and white. we are lost in our supermarkets searching for exotic foods that would die on these unforgiving northern plains.
build a garden, carry a kitchen on your back, and drift away from all these bigger dreams.
it could all be propaganda, it could all be a wolf telling us lies to keep our sheep coats from shaking. i have bought it all hook, line, and sinker. i guess that is why we get caught. i suppose that is how we are all so caught up. we took the bait, now we rebel on the line, but these anglers have years of experience and a steady hand. soon we'll break the water. soon we will be gasping for air.


shhhhh! listening to:

"NYC - Gone, Gone" - Conor Oberst (Conor Oberst)
"Moab" - Conor Oberst (Conor Oberst)
"Snake Hill" - Conor Oberst & The Mystic Valley Band (Outer South)
"Worldwide" - Conor Oberst & The Mystic Valley Band (Outer South)
"Roosevelt Room" - Conor Oberst & The Mystic Valley Band (Outer South)
"Bloodline" - Conor Oberst & The Mystic Valley Band (Outer South)
"Differance is Time" - Conor Oberst & The Mystic Valley Band (Outer South)