A Few Questions

Can you care about somebody so much that you would rather deal with the pain of premature separation than deal with the pain of loving them even more? Or is that simply running away? Can you simultaneously run away and run toward something? Can you make decisions that would be called hard by some standards, selfish by others, ridiculous by still others, and incomprehensible by others yet? Can life become something other than you had intended it to be?

Because it always does.

Did you ever feel yourself sink, in just a matter of seconds, into a quagmire of incomprehensibility manifesting itself and cogency? Did you ever wonder stupid shit like this winds up a possibility: You’ve been shot on the hand with a Monster XL Machine Blaster filled with Root Beer. SPLAT!!! Click here to shoot someone back Water Gun Fight!? Or did you ever wonder whether or not there is value in things that are popularly considered to have value, only to find that the value that is placed there is misplaced there by an overwhelming sense of urgency to conform? Did you ever break something and rebuild it perfectly?

Because it always is.

Where have you been that you cannot remember? Where have you been that you want to forget? Where have you lied down underneath the stars, simply to be precisely where you are, and wonder at the nature of emptiness? Where were you when you thought to yourself that the nature of the modern world society, no matter where you are, is one of hopeless emptiness? Or did you manage to look at society and never find this to be the case? Where were you the last time you looked at somebody with the thought in your mind: I share the same genus and species as this person?

Because you’ve never been.

When was the last time you stopped in the middle of the road as you walked home from work because your mind had been working overtime and finally, finally, finally come to an understanding of something? When was the last time you unleashed your subconscious into a work of art? When was the last time you had a conversation with somebody that was actually worth a damn and not full of platitudes about the weather and the more recent Hollywood release? Or did you manage to make it this far in life without ever experiencing anything like that? Where is there peace in this world? Where is there understanding of the fact that a peace is not a where?

Because you never did.

Who am I? Who is the most important person in your life? Who would you say has influenced your life more than anybody else? Who can seemingly make you do anything—even the things you don’t really want to do? Who came into your life when you least expected it and significantly impacted it to the point that you would say they changed your life? Who broke you? Who says so? Who played with you? Who laid next to you in the morning light and reminded you that life is still beautiful because it has them in it? Or did you never ponder the importance of the other people in your existence and the effect they have on who you are? Who can say what is what? Who can say this is this? Who has all the answers?

Because it is always nobody.

Why do you continue to ask questions to which nobody has the answers? Why do you ask questions concerning history that is unchangeable and immutable? Why do you sometimes wonder why “Why” is such a difficult question to worked up about any more? Why is the reason behind something so often given so much importance that what was done is overlooked? Why does it seem that the real meaning of something that has been done seem so much like it isn’t the reason behind it, but what happened as a result of it? Why is that intentions are always so emptily reducible to: because I felt like I was doing what was right? Why is it always a question of explaining oneself, when then this is pretty generally an impossibility based on the movements of consciousness that, while perhaps known, are only partially able to be tracked and very rarely fully disclosed to even the one attempting the explanation? Or is it possible that Why is truly a silly question, laced with grotesque distortions of inexplicable motion? Why can I never fully understand? Why are you so beautiful? Why am I so ugly? Why am I so beautiful? Why are you so ugly? Why is life such a day to day existence, impossibly pinned down?

Because of is.

What can you do about it? What are you going to do about it? What are you doing about it right now? What is it? What is what? What is a word? What is language? What is thought? What is consciousness? What is religion? What is life? What is love? What is pleasure? What is pain? What is worthiness? What is authority? What is a regime? What does it mean to be so involved with existence that you miss out on existence? What does it all mean? What is god? What is it about me that makes me wonder? What is it about you that makes you wonderful? What is it that makes us wonderfully wonder? What is human nature? What can you gather around you in one lifetime in terms of goods and things and products and stuff? What can you gather around you in one lifetime in terms of growth and development and an experience of the possibles of the mind? What can you gain from stuff? What can you gain from investigating your possibles? What is it about revolution that is so goddamned appealing? What is it about human beings that makes them capable of deciding on a whim? What is it about me that drives me to question things so incessantly and accept only that which I come to understand gradually? What is it about you that allows you to accept wholesale what I sell you? What is it about you that makes you question in the way you do? What is it about me that allows me to accept in the way I do? What does it mean to be exceptional? What am I supposed to do now? What condition of the mind allows for this sort of thing? What? Or did you never realize the power of What? What can you make of it?

Because it is everything and nothing and something in between.