I sat in silence,

pondering implications of the fact that there is no me. Amidst this contemplation of emptiness and not being, my stomach growled audibly - I found no retort.

I'm reading through my years-old letters.

[OMITTED: A bunch of stuff I quoted from a previous message written to me.]

AAAaaaahahahahaha. That's the funniest goddamned joke I've told in years.

My humor might be a little off. I [insert myriad plausible excuses here, but know - in spite of my best efforts to rebuff its significance - that I really do think it's funny, and wish I didn't give such a shit that you might that I type all of this shit in here and realize a singularly and extemporaneously honest moment within my e-mailing experience. I don't know why I always sought your approval - it was reflexive, and I was hurt like a child when you (or any male I looked up to - "respected" wasn't enough) was disappointed in me.]. Wow. I can grow just typing to you, without sending this or anything.

I didn't intend to bring you with me on this therapeutic outing, nor did I request you come along - and I appreciate it.











Lata

(heh)




========================================================
[And the follow-up, begun an hour later]
========================================================



It's now that I get the real opportunity to explore myself - the previous message having been a spur-of-the moment thing, within the last minute, instantaneously, I was overcome by a sense of dire regret. I was appalled by the emotion as soon as I identified it, and my abrupt analysis pinpointed some of my current boundaries - now I know where to apply pressure. I have found a flaw.

I can say that because I have determined what I desire my perspective - inclusive of character, personality, beliefs, spirituality - to be. Until I began typing that sentence, my fingers stumbling, unresponsive under the weight of the realization that they were involved in granting, I did not know what it was that I wanted - I knew what I wanted, but I did not know that it was what I wanted. I visualized what I felt, and it was so simple - I see a dome, of a consistency I can't describe but would say is smooth, with a mist over it; the dome stretches at too abrupt an angle to be seen for more than a few strides, or maybe eternity - I have no concept of my own size and stride, only my experience of the place; still, I sense forever behind that translucent veil as much as I sense the edge.

Does it get better than that? Honestly, please. I'd say "for my writing," or "in my style," but I operate from within my own perspective and see brilliance - though [I doubt] it may change momentarily, I am possessed by a surety of purity now.

I'm sure I meant to type something else. Ah, yes:
The "open plain" la-dee-dah wouldn't be worth jack shit without its collaborative explanation, which is this: I sense the plain, somehow see and feel it. I purely sense it; it is a meditative plain that is sustained in spite of my focusing on writing this. While replaying my reaction (like TiVo, man), I sensed something jagged outside of the area immediately around me concurrently with the "what the fuck did I just do" moment. It was a a momentarily intense awareness of - followed by a residual awareness of - a distant location, tangible within which were the features of this flaw, this jagged outcropping of the same substance that makes up the plain, it seems. I haven't figured out how to get rid of it yet, but I think I just have to stay near it, and it will dissolve. I sense that that is the truth, as I know it is the truth, just as I know that all I have to do is think of its features and I am next to it, and that, if I want it to leave, I must hold myself there in awareness of it, in spite of my protest. Can it really be that simple?

Awesomeness.

I enjoy these, as they are as much my creation as they are that of some dimensionally greater being.
...
I believe I've conveyed to you before that I believe that awareness as we humanly define it is the frontier between the "third" and "fourth" dimensions? I think our lives would look like trees within the fourth dimension, too - as we would see the work of some second-dimensional consciousness (as I think awareness is the frontier between all dimensions) within a plant.

As I drifted to sleep,

I dreamt that some frustrated, ancient being that dwells along with me inside of me was smothering me down into the earth with its enveloping arms, weary of my self-loathing, its hands stifling my pleas; I screamed within my thoughts "How can you judge me so? You know me!" I sensed from the titan, featureless and translucent, a smile as he faded away, leaving me to the void. My head rang with echoes of my own voice as it spoke a thought not my own - "why, indeed?"

I still do.

I hoped the whole time I was breathing into her cold, wet nose; I cradled my terrified hope, certain of its impending end, certain that it was going to be extinguished and be consumed. I think that's what drove me so far from the experience. I could not hold hope dear; it was certain to hurt me. It hurts right now, until tears, to recall it.

How did I ever manage to believe that I was detached from it? I felt that question intensely as I typed it, but no more; I know how I managed to believe it - I was detached. I skipped town and analyzed the situation and acted in a manner that I calculated maximized the likelihood of the puppy's recovery... and of the salvation of that hope.

I am either utterly attached to, or utterly detached from any aspect of my perspective, including experiences - as they happen, and in my recollection of them. Those superlatives raise some questions; I've some meditation to do.

I remember that one time,

you cried in my arms. It was amazing, to hold you, so much more dear to me than I'd ever intended you to become, and to listen to you cry. You were always so strong, so ready for anything; your sobs rocked us both while I inhaled and kissed your hair. How did I deserve an experience so beautiful? Wherever I go, I have seen enough love to last me. I'm still hungry for more; no longer do I feel a pressing need, but a very patient desire. I'm am content to wait.

A Puppy and a Proposition.

Today, I was driving along highway 62N in Texas, and I saw a lady walking along it. I assumed she was a hitchhiker, as she was walking a major highway in between no apparent civilization. She introduced herself as Kay, and rode in silence for less than a minute and asked, "do you date?"

...Time passes. Things happen. Maybe I'll fill in this blank...

I held Kay's Boxer puppy - or her limp, expired shell - in my arms, feeling more than tasting the saliva between my lips, fluid which transferred there from her dead muzzle as I tried to breathe and massage life into her still-warm body (was it warmth of sunlight, or of her now-ebbed life?). I paused a second to wonder whether I'd think I was a bastard if I'd noticed myself caring rather than not about the soiling of my pleated trousers onto which feces had transferred from her now-non-governed bowels.

All of the preceding took place after having a great conversation with some guy whose office I stopped in to in order to update his virus definitions. I searched a bit for my purpose in this complex organism (yes, "organism") that we call "life."

I returned to my hotel directly after leaving the tragic scene of the dead puppy and her owner mourning her in the cluttered yard of her pitiful trailer. As I left my rental car and approached the building, I noticed a man hurriedly snuff his cigarette in order to match my arrival at the entrance. Upon arriving at the door after his brisk walk over, he feigned ignorance that it was unlocked, asking "Oh, is it open?" He followed me to the elevator and briefly affirmed that the third floor, the one I'd selected before his fully boarding the elevator, was his. He hesitated to exit the elevator, which I allowed him to do due to my suspicion of him, which was all thanks to my prior observations; he then faltered in the hallway, picked to go right rather than left, and paused to look back at me twice - the second time, he saw me as I entered my room, and his stride gained confidence. He cast no further glances back towards me. I received a call a few seconds later on my room phone; it all wound up with me being propositioned and questioned at length (and volunteering more information than I was asked for) about my sexuality, openness to a sexual encounter with the caller and her boyfriend (which I in no way accepted or lead the forward caller to believe I was interested in), having her deny that the man I'd observed was involved with the call at all (despite my accurate description of him), and hung up on me as I stated that I was open to having some coffee or a lunch somewhere, as I was free the next hour or so.

In both situations, I felt little more than amusement, but I continue to harbor hopes that something meaningful will, eventually, hit home.

And all of that occurred prior to a wonderful bonfire, smoke, and lounge out upon the roof of some pretty cool folks who I've only spent time with twice. The fire took place immediately after accompanying them to their orientation/introduction course to a major financial institution's "financial education" business - selling financial confidence like Kirby vacuums; sure, they're great vacuums, but some one's still got to sell them.

Introspectively-wrought revelations abounded.