The moon in time lapse sliding over skyline the way a remote frisbee might wheel through air as slowly as a banjo once floated across the wide Missouri River in my mind when as a boy the devil to pay permitted me to dream-up my get-away from home, far from my parents’ witchy vigilance & the wine-barrel cellars of their household—this after my experimental stuffing of a dinner fork into a light socket in the green gazebo under backyard grapevines. That fuse box blown & blackened was the bliss of departure—it was thrilling, but sometimes I have to stop to touch my life & see if it’s real. How surprising to find that I wanted so much, and mostly got it. My fantasies are fewer now (one involves living through a day without resentments, the other getting seated next to gorgeous Fanny Ardant on a puddle jumper). No need to see my life as a story the world has to read, no need for sentimental mooning & nostalgia—blessed with a bit of amnesia anyway, I don’t recall much of what went down. I know that it’s engraved there on some cellular level, & that I can’t command the consequences. Like a spider who has climbed atop a survey stake in a bull- dozed field, I feel slightly truer in any case.
“Among other things, you’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them—if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.”—J.D. Salinger (via loveyourchaos)