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A blog by someone who doesn't like or understand blogs.
A major theme of this blog is the love affair between the blogger and the city of New York.
Email me at david [at] danzig [dot] com.
Bloggers with whom I am personally acquainted, in real life, in alphebetical order by first name:
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Dav C.
David D.
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Jessica D.
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Friday, August 30, 2002
WHAT IS REAL? (A POEM BY ME).
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Hey, baby, what about you? What are the things that you wanna do? I'm drivin'. I'm driven. Scent drifts from my virgin lips. I need it. I bleed it. I believe it.
Who are you tryin' to fool, baby? What did you think this was all about? Did you think we could just walk away? Did you think it could just end this way?
Yeah, baby, I'm talkin' to you. You've got to give me the time. You've got to get into the frame of mind. We're there. We've always known it.
I hear the voices calling. Do you hear the references dropping away? I'm falling into a disparate paradigm. I tuck my reality away in a small corner of what I call my mind. I'm slipping into a logic where sense makes everything, rather than the reverse. I twist my thoughts, wringing meaning out of them. No longer the dreamer, I become the dream. I am being. I am becoming. I am undone.
Slices of time shatter, fall away. I taste the moment like a little girl suckling her mother's breast. I am infused with reason, and stripped of consequence. I am married to my flesh: I cannot look away. There is a little tiny machine in my skull and it's making me think that I can believe things. Do you understand? It's making me feel like I have emotions.
I am flailing between two worlds, each existing in the shadow of the other. I try to hold both of them in my head, but my mind is too small. Reality is just a metaphor in one. Consciousness is just a superstition in the second. Neither is complete, and yet neither will admit of the other. I am unbalanced, spinning toward the second world, losing sight of the first.
Who am I? What have I become? How did I get to be this way? I taste bile as I scream the questions that know no answers. What is truth? What is fundamental? What differentiates the experience from the thing experienced?
I am elemental, but I don't know what I am. I am central, but I don't know where I stand. I cannot see the shroud I wear. I only see through it.
There are too many ways to be to be just one. I know you believe me. But I do not know if I am strong enough. I do not know if I am brave enough to leap from my comfortable frame.
Is it better to suffer or to feel nothing at all? Is it better to want what you cannot have or to have what you cannot want? I have risen from the deepest despair. I was a child once. It was not always this way.
I am lost.
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