found this on my laptop... who wrote it?
so i found this on my laptop a little while ago and it has been driving me crazy... because i don't remember writing it... but who knows?
As the sound starts to fade back in, he realizes he hasn’t exactly been listening for the past who knows how long. He shakes his head to rattle the dust which has settled on his frontal lobe like fresh snow. Somehow, no one notices as the glassy blinds are yanked back up over his eyes and he snaps back into reality. If you can call it reality. Sitting around a coffee shop which in its attempt to be cultural and almost European looks like the set of a movie with a $20 budget shot on a Super8. Oh shit. He realizes they are looking at him, and as the mouths start to slow down, start to come to a stop, form the words which indicate the end of their time and the passing of the conch to him for his enlightened speech bordering on diatribe which seemingly always occurs, he is left grasping for something. Like a child toeing the end of the diving board before he chickens out and just cannonballs like the other 26 times he’s been here, there is a moment of silence. The eyes of his friends start to widen as one can hear the wheel in his head turning and churning, ready to produce the hydroelectric storm of emotion which is about to rush down the banks of his head and pour out of the mouth, his mouth. As ritualistic as ever, he turns his mug so the handle faces him, he begins...
“What I think is,” he begins hesitantly. All the education one could ever want has left him structured, disciplined and essayistic in his speech. If he bothered to gather with the unintellectual this could be cause for concern, but luckily for all involved the walls to which he and his friends (ha, friends. more like classmates. acquaintances at best.) surround themselves are not for the weak of heart, nor the simple of mind.
“Well, to be honest, I’m done thinking. What I really want is to feel. To emote. To have an opinion not based on the recent briefing from the Journal of Intelligensia, not an academic opinion argued by others and regurgitated to the point of indecipherability. What I want is to actually, passionately, without reason and remorse, without thought or think, have something which stirs my soul and shakes my heart. I want to be able to affix my name, sign my seal onto something which makes people feel what I’m saying. I want to do it loud, I want to do it proud and I want it. It. I want it. Me. I. It. Me with It. Do you know? Have you ever realized that we sit around talking abstractly about things with no reality? We talk about arguments made thousands of years after arguments were made, and when, please God tell me when, was the last time had an original thought? When was the last time someone ordered a sentence with words which were new, fresh, original, different, dissimilar, huliwaking? Academia is the paper walled prison in which we are all serving life sentences waiting to be executed by the fatal flaw. Academia is the place in which we are all proud to reside, where the dominant forces within tell us we are happy and we tell the happiness we have that it is real. Nothing is real. Not our happiness, not our thoughts, not even our breaths. Everything we do has been done and everything we will become has been. It is time to step outside the ordered, programmed world which we reside, learn to walk on our hands and speak only with our feet. It is time to read not for what is hidden in the text, for what is implied and suggested but for what is not there. Rather than implicit homosexuality and latent patriarchy, let us find an explicit absence of heterosexuality and the maternal figure which has created the need to dominate her and her beliefs at every turn. It is time to realize that real is possible. That real is hiding. That real is not a simulation of the unreal. If there can be unreal, simulations of what we do posited and polished as real, than the real real is real. It exists to exist. It is hiding in hiding. Find it, hold it, love it. Be real to the real and the real will be real for real. Do not fear it, reaf it. Do not hate it, etah it. Do not forget it, tegrof it.
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