EYES CLOSED: The young director came to see me to offer me a part in his next upcoming project. Nervous, and to break the air I told him I had spoken to someone the other day else who related an interesting anecdote about the movie business at large. He looked back at me sternly and told me that he was that other person that I had this particular conversation with. I felt like an old ass! I risked annoying him further while I asked him to wait a bit while I went in the next room to rummage around for an example of my own work quickly realizing that this was a useless exercise as I had nothing that was that impressive to show.
EYES OPEN: How bright the light of wisdom burns upon otherwise cold embers at the approach of day’s end in a manner substantially far different than the approach of dawn. Those dim days of pride of accomplishment and hope of success at the time of one’s grand opening. That day of empty sorrow decades later to casually look out a window and see that great work now derelict and completely abandoned by all. How did I get to be a fool?
Wasting time hanging around those who were indifferent to my presence except as their own useful conveyance. Being worried about the quality of the impression that had been left in the minds of other strangers. Not committing 100% to those that I once had loved. Chasing after successive series of mental erections. Too easily a mark to be used by lifetime players. Wasting time treading water keeping the status quo in ‘going nowhere‘ relationships. Being unable to trust those who really loved me. Being so arrogant to always think that I knew more than everyone else in the room. Ever finding myself subconsciously chasing after material success and public praise at the latest milestone. Not crediting those around me with an equal access to sound wisdom and good judgment.
Detail orientated minor fact obsessive considerations of the caveat of inconsistent thought. Those oblivious to the true nature of their own surroundings. Do ‘grass heads‘ know the meaning of time? Or do they simply repeatably respond to stimulus in their own immediate environment with a built-in hostility. One could admit that the true definition of the concept of time is naught but an intellectual exercise in good record keeping. Or perhaps counting age old grudges? Is the simple fact of recording one’s perception of time through creating a palpable fantasies much the same as the creation of new words and terminology is the basis of science and the root of magic? Promoting simple distractions of thought into an appearance of reality is like hoping to catch a fast departing train and calling it consensus. Is the everyday ordinary actually affected by the discovery of the extraordinary? Or is it a trifling matter in a long-winded schedule of endless socially mounted debates? Does a fit objective posing as social guide exist? Or is it simply a self-empowered individualized personality demented mindset on steroids? Maybe, after all, it’s all about balance over the entire range of what one is still able to be conscious of?
EYES CLOSED: A field of burning soldiers, each one more infinitively more adept at throwing a ball demonstrable beyond that of any of my own efforts. The repeat of this experience making me feel paltry by comparison.
I looked out the window of the car I am riding in and noticed that another all too familiar building is now gone. It is as if a giant eraser is following in my footsteps perhaps a year or too behind busily eliminating my past.