mathematics for exit strategies
Theory: Loneliness decreases as you increase your distance from the Earth.
Experience: I wanted to stop being human. But the transformation involved even more thinking and feeling (what I sought to escape in the first place), that I became more human and, eventually, the worst kind of human.
Chalkboard Equation: I woke up in bright lights of my lab at three in the morning. I chalked a skeleton on the blackboard. I stood over a trash can and masturbated till I cried.
Broken Physics of the Internal Landscape: I was maybe seven years old. I don't know how I got there, but I stood alone on the shoulder of a narrow curving highway somewhere between San Francisco and Bodega Bay. It was early in the afternoon. I loved the smell of saltwater in the air. The sunlight was angled just right, allowing me a clear view of the drivers and passengers of each vehicle coming around the bend. I didn't know who I was waiting for, but I would recognize them when I saw them. Sometimes many minutes passed before a vehicle came around the bend. I would turn and look over my shoulder at the Pacific Ocean sparkling behind me. Large bodies of water fascinated me. I couldn't swim and wondered how long I would last out there, if I fell or jumped from a boat. Some more cars came around the bend. But I lost interest in looking at the drivers and passengers. I kept staring at all that water. As terrified as I was of drowning, I thought it would be wonderful to drown in such a huge body of water on such a beautiful day. And then I was in Modesto, in my family's back yard. My oldest sister, or one of her friends, had just fished me out of the deep end of our swimming pool. All I could smell was chlorine and grass clippings and dry valley air. And my sister was yelling at me, "why did you jump into the pool? You don't even know how to swim? Why did you jump into the pool?"
Wrong Side of Clairvoyance: There are so many beautiful ghosts haunting the subways and laundromats, pushing carts up and down the aisles of the supermarket, hurrying from one streetlight to the next as darkness falls down Fillmore. I want to say something to them, to let them know that they've been seen. But they don't hear me, even when I raise my voice. Then a living human bumps my shoulder and does not notice. Then another walks right into me, as if I'm not there. And then another. And another.
Abstract Dissolutions for Distance and Unrest: This is what happens when I've been awake too long. My fingers begin to resent me for forcing them to type such nonsense. I look forward to the day when I stop embarrassing myself with the entries I post here. No more entries. Just exits.