Not a Territory of the Same

Hard to believe the years have become decades and the space in which one grew up is really no longer home and in fact no space in fact for peace. Difficult to digest causing vomiting and generalized discomfort this thought that peace and quiet is anomolous that this space in which one had once grown up is not a territory of the same. To face that one could live with more dirt more disorder more of all that which one would like to escape from in those trying times when the mold on showers and the dark dankness of tiled enclosures remind one of the distance from the land on which one was raised. The sunset has none of the joy of drunken laughter. The sunset could not have set one person free after a certain point. These landscapes north of a certain point are redundant. The vomit ingested from years of acid reflux was sucked out. We'll give you everything and more I guess this will not be enough in the end it is what is not given that one grows to miss what one has invented to be which to be truthful is then has now become much more real then what was initially proferred as one's identity fixed unchanging and real. And yet this time spent seeing that which is the origin is necessary if only to strip one of certain simple facile assumptions about where one comes from and what the meaning of return might be because suddenly return is not the longed for space any longer and a return is not a return in fact ever but a new trip and a new voyage seeing as how what was once there has not been for so long and the return takes one not to the same place but rather to a new place which is as distant from the original as the fake world which one must create to live in. In fact there is no going back then and there is no going forward we simply twirl in ever widening circles forgetting the textures of the enclosure from which we had emerged and remembering less and less but always conscious of the fact of forgetting. The innocence if it ever was there is completely unable to locate now but perhaps it is worth recovering this sense of no world outside of this one this small space having everything and nothing absolutely what one needs and yet so much less and somehow the words for this come more easily now somehow this face which was once perhaps younger now perhaps one does not have this face any longer and people can tell they can see perhaps in certain eyes that there is none of that left and yet all has been lost and there is nothing left to grasp on to and perhaps that is the unescapableness of it. Something like some feeling like Cat Power 2007 or maybe better Antony and the Johnsons 2005 or Ciëlo 2006. Like we came late to the party and can language can writing ever get you to an emotional place like this some emotional place where we all somehow began to write this and you could read it I suppose but wouldn't one party one good song one smile from someone's baby your own perhaps this feeling would be a million times more powerful than any conglomeration of lines computer aided lines on a page that are not to affect you in that same deep way and yet the language contains so much as well the language tells stories about how all of us came to be so competely confused and how all of it become so unavoidably intertwined and how words came to stand in for things and how the stories one tells simplify the narrative arc so much so as to make it all understandable and that which does not fit is thrown out and those stories are forgotten as so much unnecessary jabber and what does it mean to write all this then if one was never in a place to remember anything then how could language come up with something that would be stronger than the actual steadily dissappointing experience of life. One decided then not to talk about certain things certain sexual practices certain poems that are undeniably sad yet somehow fill one with a sense of humanity that in other moments evades one certain moments of hypocrisy certain moments when one forgets about the benefits of therapy and reaches out too hard makes a fool of oneself and trips and falls and no one no one would be there then because there are unarguably undeniably much better uses for the time of other people than to worry about one small fall of one person who is not worth much anyway and the story was not even well written or labored over one's life was not worth much anyway in the end certain embarrassing thoughts that one has which are not quite correct one's certain apologies for not belonging then for one's certain reasons.

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