This is my first post, and I shall sincerely try not to put the proverbial best foot forward and just be.....well myself...."one" of myself <multitudes and not multiple>
I have tried every form of reasoning to justify my "method to madness" and concluded there is no other explanation apart from the fact that I simply don't belong; period.I don't know the W's of it; I just don't play for the side where the only prerequisite for winning a game is surviving.One always wishes to come up with the right words, to reproduce the exact imperfection that mothered the thought; and no matter how elusive the chase I have not and will not give up.I have stopped waiting for some one else to say them for me; hence I write.No matter how magical my kingdom might be...it remains as lonely as ever...needing other eyes to see it too,for only thus may it be recognized as real. Tolkien described one such kingdom "Faerie" a land which contains "many things besides elves and fays, and witches and trolls, giants or dragons; it holds the seas, the sun, the moon, the sky; and the earth, and all the things that are in it, tree and bird, water and stone, wine and bread, and ourselves, mortal men, when we are enchanted" and I refuse to be disenchanted.
But even amidst those constant trips to ether my entire life somehow manages to continue being an unnerving effort to give structure....God knows to what; phrase the cool gurgle of a stream, imitate the sound of stars popping out of the night sky, find a colour for the local grocer's voice, and on and on my mind receives, sequences, discards, remembers, rejoices, lusts, weeps, orgasms, but never sleeps, never reveres, never settles, never loves and is never fixated.
I could never look at anything without shattering it into pieces,stripping it of all its hard earned adornment and evolution and with every assault I found the same things over and over again; that one thing pretends to be something else to elude understanding and that we are all our "desires"; propelled by the same need.....the overwhelming and urgent need for acceptance...be it the haircut we so hate but still keep, to the traffic lights we obey or we won't; that D-flat is the "key of the earth" and that we are also our "imperfections".I am every wrinkle that makes me different from others, the crooked nose that friends identify me with, and that weird accent only I can be teased about... for “Narcissus does not fall in love with his reflection because it is beautiful, but because it is his. If it were his beauty that enthralled him, he would be set free in a few years by its fading.” and thus in life's "garden of dishonour" blooms the flower of imperfection; as unique and celebrated as ever.
