Where to start? At the beginning? Not possible really - the beginning is in a different country, a different time, a different life. Some things don't really have beginnings - they emerge slowly and stealthily, like an island rising from the sea. And so it was. One day, suddenly and forever it was here, a great granite fact of my life. Background, foreground, detail and wash - it was inescapable. A silent friend at my side. A stealthy foe stalking me. A comfort during the bad times. A necessity for the good times. So much a part of me that to hate it would be to hate myself. And yet it's impossible to love. How can you possibly love something that will destroy you? We all need our weaknesses, our crutches, our excuses. Without the crutches Tiny Tim would just be the runt of the litter, barely worth a spit. Stephen Hawking would be a very intelligent, very anonymous academic. Pete Doherty would be a vacuum. Would they have it any other way? (See what I'm doing here?) The irony is of course, that we don't get those choices very often -to decide who you will be, what will rule your life, what to be guided by, what to avoid. And when the choices do come along, they're hard, cold, and lonely. And not to be rushed.
copoutcopoutcopoutcopoutcopoutcopoutcopout.
Next time I may write something about my cat.
2 comments:
personally, my friend, i'd rather live in a world where talent and observation is a burden rather than in a world of shallow, faceious frivolity...if that was the choice. fortunately, we are lucky enough to live in a world where we can do and/or be affected by both.
Your milage may vary, of course, and the view from the train window is slightly different for us all (depending on when we look and where we are sat on the moving train), but know that there are other passengers on the train with you.
drn
:)
poop poop.
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