More For Probative Value Than Anything

FROM THE FIRST OF FEBRUARY, TWENTY-TEN (LEFT IN A JOURNAL SOMEWHERE AS A 'COMMENT')


The static. That is what life has become for me. And my friend Nebraska could verify my use of words like 'static' and 'noise' to describe how I feel my way through my life. Words like 'environment' and 'atmosphere' also have layered meanings as well as the word 'context'.

That is what stood out in this entry. Man, it is true... the first sentence has to set the hook for the reader.

The loneliness of habits and the resonance of the empty spaces in my soul... I was only last night explaining to my SFC that I remember the debate between me and an older cousin about the spinnings of the world.

"The world is moving at a certain speed, a terminal velocity. You will either have to move with it or be left behind. You will need help to keep up with it because no man is an island."

This he said to a teenager who was paranoid from the experience of having people trample through his soul. It created a fissure small enough to let insecurity, indecision, and all the other 'in' things from way out come into what would pass for my reality.

Hindsight says I should have effected repair to the crack. Wondering about things like the Visitors and their concerns that will linger in my mind like the decaying isotope of radioactive material was not worth the brief enternity that they spent in my life.

The friends I know... are they really friends? I don't know if I know them well enough to even call them friends. They have their own darkness, as does many of us who live on this sphere, looking and waiting for the opportunity to emerge from their mouths.

As the tendrils swirl around me, envloping me with their words and porcelain promises, I feel less connected to who I am. And if there is anything corrupted, it is the link that I have with the enternal source of everything.

I am here. You (they) are so far away.

The blind spot... from where you don't expect and did not prepare for. And all this time, I had considered myself immune to... I don't know if it is a toxin or not. Right now I tremble, filling with doubts.

"The static doesn't dwell only in you," I tell myself. That brings little comfort, and no peace or solace. And I tell this only to myself, because it isn't comiseration that I am looking for.