Start at the surface right where water breaks and ripples. the water moves with itself. it moves upwards, backward, sideways, left ways and right ways. along with all kinds of other ways both linear and non-linear. it ebbs and tides and it waves goodbye. they say you only have to piss in the ocean to see it rise and I have seen it rise. oh, I have seen it rise. I have seen sea levels so low old skeletons of ships dried right out only to be covered back up by the menacing weight. I've seen the bottom underneath it all in dreams with washed up towns, washed up fleets. I've seen airplane crashes while watching myself die in the windows reflection. Seeing the faces all around me trapped in time. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. Unable to control the destiny. One thing I never saw was this.
Fran brings me a coffee. It's the third one I have had and I'm a bit jittery. A bit on the neurotic side but still keeping the wit and humor coming. we are sitting with friends. not the kind of friends that last forever, more of the kind that you see sometimes. the ones that are nice to you to your face but then you accidentally walk in on conversations about you just at the right time and you say something oh please continue, I am intrigued, then dead silence. Well, I guess it was the wrong time for you.
They call it a bottomless cup of coffee because they keep filling it up. topping it off so to speak. they just keep it coming until you stop drinking it and let it get cold and you see that nice layer of ice like cream sitting at the top. once this has happened they figure it out. the grade c, made in some chemical factory by people who don't know the first thing about coffee has finally done its trick.
There's nothing to talk about. nothing. my silence fills the air. I know what's going on all around me. I can tell you all about the chitter chatter of who just got fired at work, so and so's new baby that has made so and so's sister jealous because she recently had to have her tubes tied. I can hear the cocaine being sniffed in the bathroom by the dishwasher who is so sick of this dead end job/life. I can hear the arm of a grappling machine that grabs stuffed animals for twenty-five cents if you are lucky enough to figure out how it works. It's got a trick, just like everything else that has to do with machines. I can hear so much going on all around me that I have completely tuned out the conversation that I am supposed to be a part of.
Amos. Amos! she says. Are you even listening? Are you even paying attention to me? I give the usual nod and wave like I always do to at least show that I am somewhat present in the conversation but do I actually care is a whole other subject. So, what do you think? she says. what do I think? and this part kills me. I don't even know anymore, my mind says. I don't even know what I am doing here. who are these people? do they really even give a shit about what they are talking about or is it just filler for a nice night that could be spent in quiet contemplation. So, what do I think? What do I think about what?
You mean the whole time you haven't even been paying attention? that's her follow up. I was paying attention, I guess I got lost in thought. They finally hand me a clue. Do you think Bush is going to win or is it going to be Kerry? They say it all at once like my opinion is going to change everything. Like they had been planning this for centuries.
It doesn't really matter to me, I respond. It's, all the same, shit. One guy gets into office, plays king of the universes until it gets so bad that we want a new guy to replace him. This has been the problem since day one. I also remark with a nice slogan, my own slogan just to touch things up a bit, give them something familiar. "you need two wings to fly otherwise you are going to fly in circles." they just don't get it, though. they tell me either you are on one side or on the other, you can;t be bi-partisan. you have to choose and whoever you oppose, well its death to them. My mind starts interpreting; raise their taxes! kill their grandparents in the retirement homes! we don;t have room in this world for people who aren't moving or making a name for themselves. After all is said and done, all is said and done and I sit there with my usual relaxed complexion that hides an endless arsenal of everything.
No one believes that words could come out of such a monotone voice. I can tell what they are thinking, he doesn't feel anything. He doesn't care. If he felt anything he would choose sides. If he cared he would fight for a cause. but they don't seem to see the bigger picture. I am powerless in a world of thieves. Money is valueless. It's just the same for the morals and ethics that have bee carved in stone for centuries. They've always been good with words. Enough paper tablets to fill monasteries, but who could worship words like these? There's nothing to hold onto in words. In observations found from sitting back and taking it all in, even. There's something that happens in profound moments of stillness. Everything refreshes. Everything becomes one. You can't even decipher the difference between anything anymore. What good has it done anyways?
A wise man once said to me that after the game of chess is over it doesn't matter who has won or who has lost, the pieces go back into the same box.