(no subject)
I took off on a walk today, loading my bag up with a week old copy of The New Yorker (I had an article to finish on Jean-Paul Sarte and his partner in life, Simone de Beauvoir) and pushing a cigarette behind my ear for fuel for when I mounted the tops of all of the street hills surrounding my house from all the different angles. I walked up Seventh Street, heading towards the library and passing the grade school where I went to for almost ten years. I realized it was a bad idea to be wearing a black shirt when the sun suddenly decided to warm everything up. I passed roofers on the tops of houses, bare chested, shirts hanging loosely out of back pockets, and listening to Queen on old paint-splattered boom boxes. Eyes trained on my surroundings, taking everything into account, I really wished I could get away with that bare chested look, but being scrawny and having a concave chest deep enough to fit an entire bowl of cereal plus strawberries, grapes, and practically the entire produce department made me reconsider in a hurry.
Most of the best thinking comes from these walks, I feel. Ideas and thoughts funneling in and out with the recognition of new sights and sounds that trigger new trains of thought. Like seeing a bright blue house on Seventh Street, nestled in between houses, the color of dulled clay and dirty white reminds of travelling to Europe for some reason...
I thought about something I saw in an Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life earlier in the day as I made my way closer and closer to the library, passing by a huge lot that was under construction that once had been the Junior High. "I was noticing how more and more I was feeling both happy (actually, content) and sad at the same time. Happiness always seemed to be tinged with sadness, and, strangely, vice versa." That's what it had said and I couldn't place myself any better. I wish I would have thought of that one before the author did.
Finally, the tide of those thoughts started to ebb when I reached the library, the main one being the whole idea of being double-layered and my back sweating like mad. But others swirled in there too. I couldn't help but think of friends and what's going on in their lives, my surroundings, where I'm at... and I started to get a ting of superiority which I can't even stand myself. I felt like I was above all of this. What I'm doing with my life, where I'm at, all of it. Looking at the people here, I felt strangely above them, like some elitist feeling that these people have their menial lives and mine is so, so much better. This thinking started off on a trail which I didn't like. I know I'm not better then anyone, most likely I'm under them with my boring, boring life. But where should I be? All of those existential questions popped into my head. Why do my friends make such brash decisions, I can not even fathom? Why couldn't I have had some semblance of a normal life? All the crappy thoughts one could muster. I grabbed a few books, one I really had no desire to read and left. I didn’t feel like I wanted to be there anymore. I just wanted to be at home.
I thought about that quote from the book on the way home. I like to think that I’m happy, but really when I get down to it, I’m not. Sure you can say you have your health, you have some place to live. You have a job, people care about you. But I don’t see it. I see it more along the lines of being sad with little bits of happiness. The vice versa of that quote. I felt better on the way home though. I saw and heard all of those people I couldn’t stand going about their lives; music wafting out of windows, people driving and looking happy. Maybe sometime I’ll find that and not have to live inside my head all of the time.
Most of the best thinking comes from these walks, I feel. Ideas and thoughts funneling in and out with the recognition of new sights and sounds that trigger new trains of thought. Like seeing a bright blue house on Seventh Street, nestled in between houses, the color of dulled clay and dirty white reminds of travelling to Europe for some reason...
I thought about something I saw in an Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life earlier in the day as I made my way closer and closer to the library, passing by a huge lot that was under construction that once had been the Junior High. "I was noticing how more and more I was feeling both happy (actually, content) and sad at the same time. Happiness always seemed to be tinged with sadness, and, strangely, vice versa." That's what it had said and I couldn't place myself any better. I wish I would have thought of that one before the author did.
Finally, the tide of those thoughts started to ebb when I reached the library, the main one being the whole idea of being double-layered and my back sweating like mad. But others swirled in there too. I couldn't help but think of friends and what's going on in their lives, my surroundings, where I'm at... and I started to get a ting of superiority which I can't even stand myself. I felt like I was above all of this. What I'm doing with my life, where I'm at, all of it. Looking at the people here, I felt strangely above them, like some elitist feeling that these people have their menial lives and mine is so, so much better. This thinking started off on a trail which I didn't like. I know I'm not better then anyone, most likely I'm under them with my boring, boring life. But where should I be? All of those existential questions popped into my head. Why do my friends make such brash decisions, I can not even fathom? Why couldn't I have had some semblance of a normal life? All the crappy thoughts one could muster. I grabbed a few books, one I really had no desire to read and left. I didn’t feel like I wanted to be there anymore. I just wanted to be at home.
I thought about that quote from the book on the way home. I like to think that I’m happy, but really when I get down to it, I’m not. Sure you can say you have your health, you have some place to live. You have a job, people care about you. But I don’t see it. I see it more along the lines of being sad with little bits of happiness. The vice versa of that quote. I felt better on the way home though. I saw and heard all of those people I couldn’t stand going about their lives; music wafting out of windows, people driving and looking happy. Maybe sometime I’ll find that and not have to live inside my head all of the time.