Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Once I Was

Mimi Parker: half of Low
Once I was lost
To the point of disgust
I had in my sight
Lack of vision
Lack of light

- Low, "Point of Disgust"

* * *

This is, this is, this is the contour, the form, the defining curve of the bottom. This is what being fucked is: lack of vision, lack of light. It is legless in spirit, empty in spirit, spiritless to the point of disgust.

Mercy me.

* * *

Being lost is no big damn thing. No big damn thing. Happens all the time. Happens to everyone. It is our natural state. Who can say they have not been lost? Who can say they have not wrestled the black dog of their disappointment, their despair? Who can say life has run in a greased groove from pillar to post? No one. No one can, and if anyone does they are a shit-dog liar.

And it is all to the good that this is so.

It keeps a sense of wonder about us, a sense of the possible, a sense that we are capable because we challenge our lostness, our fuckedness, our doubt and despair. We, as the poet said (it's always a poet), kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight. We respond to being lost by finding our way. We build, we create, we carve time to do our bidding, we insist on meaning over and against our despair. We are geniuses of darkness kicking.

Except when we aren't.
Except when we quit.
Except when we just want to lay down for a minute and catch our breaths.
Except when we define being lost as a permanent state.
Except when we fuck ourselves because we come to believe we are not up to it.

It gets like that sometimes and it is the harrowing of hell to arrive there. And when all is lost, when you've fucked yourself so hard you can't walk there is one remaining saving grace, one last fail safe: disgust.

If you are lucky, you become so disgusted by your inaction, your lip-quavering mea culpa-ing, you take a ferocious psychic shit and empty yourself of your fucktitude.

* * *

It is hard to have faith in yourself all the time. Hell, even some of the time, a fraction of the time, but you have to venture it anyway. It is the only way to clean yourself of the muck you've slid into. A long time ago I wrote: 

You fucked it.
You unfuck it.

The motto for these pages.

If you have lost a vision for your life, then look for it, insist on it, build one and if it doesn't work throw it out and build again. If you have lost the light, then bum some matches or see if you can't catch a spark off someone else's light: read a book, make love, cook a meal, listen to music. Don't let the point of disgust become a further excuse to not kick at the darkness. It is your life come to life, demanding something other than giving up from you.

It is a gift. Treat it as such. And listen, it is easy to string together a bunch of verbs and tell you to hop to it. I get that. But listen, listen, listen, this is exactly what life is made of: verbs. I'm not being a dick writing them here. I'm here to remind you of what you may have forgotten along the way.

That is all. That is all.

* * *

Boom, baby. Boom.


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