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«about the nightrise and the miracle of illusion. | Front | maybe that's not important at all. (some of it might be though. somehow.) »

April 17, 2008
almost no safety net between sentences as the sun rises again spectacularly over kensington brooklyn and i happen to sit with windows open as they can be. as it takes about ten thousand hours to be good at anything, i am perhaps in the exact middle of the distance right now, mumbling to myself that there is no water here and that it is not very pleasant to continue and yet that it is also of no use in turning back. so with every word added, i put myself closer to the spot where i will be allowed to see spaces again, and periods and dashes and paragraphs and chapters and headers, footers and blocks of things. of course it is not completely the case. every moment on the path is the beginning of the path and it is also the ending of it. this word here is the one i had been waiting to write all of my life... wait, which one of the ones i just wrote? here. no, now. argh. typing here without a safety net, on a head freshly drunk with the air of pre-sunrise sky, with the sounds of little machines entertaining themselves instead of me, mixed with the sounds of the city out there, mixed with the birds desperately trying to find their last surviving relatives to pick a fight with and perhaps also to make new ones... no safety net. well, language itself is always a safety net. it will take a while until sdlkj skljwidjvv isijjfi iisdgjhgo ookjgki ppsdjgkn again. and even that's obviously a space defined by letters which most likely were not intended to spend as much time together as they are doing here anyway. though they are not, maybe... this here is not even paper. as if paper... here it is, i can see the tip of the sun peeking its blurry dayglo head between the most proud buildings of flatbush. and i should not have stared just now, trying to figure out the color. there is a green blotch floating right in front of me now, right in front of the exact very me right here right... it is the mothership calling my eyes to return to the closed home between days. a seagull just laughed at me, yes me, as i just fed the seagull her name. orange rectangles are creeping up the empty walls of the living room. it will be just a few moments before they turn a bright yellow and then white and then just disappear in the flood of everything that will be them. more birds are shouting now. prospect park is stretching it's trees. pigeons are taking their best seats on the balconies around me. just another five thousand hours and i will be able to laugh at this very word here. no, i am able to laugh at it right now. and why did i have to try to look at the sun again? i knew it was an insane disk, with another bright blue disk dancing in front of it. i knew it. i obviously have no idea of what i know, don't know and do not know i don't know. and it will be a while until my knowing that i do not know will completely leave me alone. and i can wait.