The Past

I’ve learned to appreciate the past, finally. Before I know it, it will be all that’s left. It’s not some maudlin, morbid pronouncement, it’s a simple fact of life. This song, linked here, used to make me cry, and now I know why: the island that is the past …

(because now one can know for sure, can’t one?, that man is an island after all!, because of those things that cannot be undone on either side of two people, the total lack of understanding, the real Hell that people can inflict unknowingly, their islands being simply too far away…)

… the past is prologue, always!, and part of me must have known, sensed that a disaster was on the way.

Now I’m alone, and maybe it’s only just…no, f#ck that. It’s a disgrace that I’m alone. I don’t really believe my own hype anymore, regarding what I deserve out of life. I only ever tried to be as good as I knew how, in conditions that were themselves disgraceful, grueling, unenviable.

So I have a hard time with that conclusion but it doesn’t change a damn thing, and the pursuit of pride is a mad one with no noble end. I’ll accept it. And pretend like I had a choice in the matter.

But: I love my past: it can’t be taken away. And neither those who share it with me. Cannot be stolen or destroyed or sold off. Abandoned, denied, cheapened. Hurt or abused or merely tolerated into obscure and meaningless obeisance. The past and all in it are my menagerie of beautiful and unshakable things, more present and alive than this mocking golden band, more valuable than mineral or animal or vegetable, and I imagine it will only become more so with time. It is all I own and it is precious, beyond my feebleness, to describe it.

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March 2016
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Currently Reading:

Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame - Charles Bukowski

Currently Listening:

Mr. Bungle - California

Why, yes, I am cool as a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce.

You lika de juice????

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