change

things change, 
why resist them so much, 
holding onto what they were, 
thinking that is the only way 
that they can be, 

when the new way 
has come about for a reason, 
give into the reason, 
let go of what was

spending time for no reason

i continue to have this sense that the way i am spending my time is not good enough, or maybe, rather, just that i have nothing to show for what i’ve spent my time doing, especially for enjoyable and ephemeral things that had no utility or productiveness.

thinking of this in terms of spending time for pleasure and then judging that time spent for output of some material or otherwise utilitarian gain, as opposed to being grateful and thankful for the pleasure you enjoyed.

sounds like space

sitting on the rooftop, so much around us, k says, all the cars on the road and all the people in the buildings; here it just sounds like space.

rent in sf

living in san francisco, there is a tension between: not wanting to leave the apartment because you’re paying so much for rent, and wanting to leave the apartment to go out and experience the city that is the reason you’re paying so much for rent

succeeding all alone

most of the time, 
we do the same thing 
as everyone else, 
completely unoriginal, 
if not our contemporaries, 
then someone’s done it before, 
but sometimes we break through, 
and really get into it, 
and hoot and holler and say, 
i’ve done it, 
and revel in the sense 
of pushing the frontier, 
all on our own, 
until we look around 
and realize that 
we’re all on our own

writing outside of myself

when i’m sober and anxious, things are more specific and less hazy and time slows down – i realize immediately that i made a promise to start writing “outside of myself” after this last book. i need to start looking outside of the feelings of my ego and into my experience of the world around. i think this will be therapeutic but also full of more material.

intense

she says, you’re intense.

i look at her, intensely, i suppose; aware of it because she said so.

why yes, i say, because things are serious.

what do you mean by that? she asks.

well, for example, if we were in a war.

but we are not, she says.

hmph, no longer looking intense, she is right, i suppose.

light switch

a light switch
in the dark
after sleeping
two light switches
actually
one on top
of the other
lighted barely
in the dark
not by themselves
of course
but also, not even by
the light they control
in the bedroom
but from the light
in the bathroom
controlled
by another switch
that I now see
when I wash my hands
after sleeping
which drives me to write
about a light switch
after some time
unproductive

fridge talking

such silence
after the noise
of the refrigerator
working to freeze water
or whatever a refrigerator does
whirring in the night

making noise
that you don’t realize
is noise

until the click
that turns it off
and then real silence
at 3:25 a.m,

no cars outside
oh, there went one
on California street outside
but now silence again

just the low hum
of nothingness
that makes me wonder
if silence has a sound

oh, there went a plane
I think, something above
it is gone now

and the hum again
no, her breathing
against my chest 

always a noise
to fill the silence
if you really listen

feel better now

pushing over boxes
to sit with my back
against the couch
in the morning light
that comes in
through the window

something changed last night
i feel better now
noticing things i didn’t before
appreciative for small things
for no reason

this is what i forget
when i feel sad and lost

less editing

funny how many times
i’ve deleted a much edited poem
and just supplanted the original
messy as it was;
after much editing
you end up removing
its idiosyncrasies
that make it what it was

Time spent for pleasure

K: Do you see value in time spent for pleasure?

C: Yes, I didn’t use to.

K: When did that change?

C: When I realized that I was going to die no matter what, and nothing really matters.

I’m the opposite of you. There are times when I indulged more than I should have. Times when I did things in excess, e.g., spending too much time doing unhealthy things, investing emotionally too deep in someone.

As I get older I try to find balance and be present in doing non-pleasurable things. I don’t really enjoy it but if I’m present I can benefit from it both in the present and in the future, like washing my face—even if I don’t enjoy getting up out of bed in the present, I feel a lot better in the future if i do it.

I think about what I would remember right before I die. I think I’d remember times when I felt connected to something bigger than me, because that’s what I would be about to cross over into.

Thinking of what will be

Experiencing what is, thinking of what will be, wondering how what is will affect what will be, letting your thoughts about what will be define your experience of what is, letting your feelings about what you are experiencing be good only in the case that they are good for what will be, only allowing yourself to be a certain way, which is to say only allowing what there is to be a certain way, as you experience what is, and making these requirements for yourself based on what you want yourself to be at some point in the future, which is to say making requirements for what will be in the future—in other words, trying to control the future. All the time doing this in the present, to manipulate what will be in the future, instead of just allowing the present to be itself, and thus looking deeper into the experience of the present with your full self that also exists in that present, letting water run together with water, instead of always focusing the attention of your present self on thoughts of the future, letting oil try but fail to run together with water. Future thoughts are merely experiences of a reality that has yet to pass and thus are less clear and beautiful than the thoughts of a present reality that exists right in front of your nose and overwhelms your appetite for attention over and over again if you really look deep enough and never run out of things to see.

Like just now, I am high, unable to function too well in terms of what my experience will demand of me in the future, especially when I have to return to work, but I don’t have to work for four days, and all that my present experience demands of me is that I relax, and so I ask myself, why let thoughts of the future change my experience of the present? Especially when my current state of being high is actually better suited for this present reality and will certainly change, many times perhaps, before the future experience of going back to work according to which I am now judging my present self and for which I now prematurely try to change my present self, and as a result would make my present self more ill-suited for the present experience in favor of being better-suited for a future experience. Why does that make sense? It does not, I don’t think.

Or, with my writing, I paused because I was going to write something but forgot, so I stopped writing, and started thinking of what I had forgotten, trying to remember, thinking of what the writing would be if I could only remember what I had forgotten, thinking of the future of the writing and ignoring what I was thinking in the present, restricting my experience of my present thought process so that I could pull a thought forward from the past in the interest of a future version of the piece that I had conceived of only in my mind.

Spending time

Now that it’s over, even though I’ve been after it this whole time, apparently I carried nothing along, so that I have nothing to show for my time, nothing to hold onto that I can touch and feel and say, this is what I got for it. Only now that it’s over do I feel this way. I can still remember moments while it was still going on, when I would say “this is it” or “I feel good” or “oh wow” so that it is only in hindsight now that I wonder what was gotten, even though all along I would have told you that I was getting it and even exclaimed to you, this is it! Perhaps it is a function of my bad memory that I now feel empty-handed. Or perhaps it is the nature of time to lock anything good in the present whence it passed, so that the present that now finds me writing, which was only a future from the perspective of the past present to which I am referring, is a whole thing in and of itself, that cannot contain any of the goodness from before. I am a banker with a vault. I keep putting funds into the vault only to find that they disappear right away. Time is not like money after all. It doesn’t save. You have to spend it when you’ve got it. Spend it deeply and rightly and well, and don’t expect to remember why you spent it or what you got for it, because at anytime after, when you are thinking like this, and trying to remember what you spent your time doing, in that very moment you will have more time to spend, and you’ll be better off just spending that time, rather than trying to remember how you spent your time before.

Edit: thinking of this in terms of spending time for pleasure and then judging that time spent for output of some material or otherwise utilitarian gain, as opposed to being grateful and thankful for the pleasure you enjoyed.

Physical love

It hits me in waves, my love for her. Beginning with excitement about what I desire in her mental or spiritual, then substantiated by rolling over in bed to see her beautiful face that matches the beauty of her aforementioned intangibles. It is like a soldier that dies in battle. The intangible of his bravery is made physical and actual by his actions, an event in the real world that we can see and touch. So too with her, the intangible of my love for her is made real and physical in her beauty so that I can kiss its mouth.

A love letter

Raindrops are tears from heaven that cry for another day that passes as your divine beauty remains mortal. 

Forest fires are blazes of passion from trees that do not share your form and can’t love you even for all the desire in the world. 

Avalanches are the strength of mountains that rush down their slopes to reach you but always in vain. 

Sunny days are most akin to your beautiful face that I can’t wait to kiss again.