Segments of my life are interesting in real time. Not necessarily my actions. Which is odd, in a way, because everyone thinks my actions are interesting in real time. Yes, Thursday I shook Drew Barrymore's hand and we matched smiles, in Cancun. Yawn. Much more interesting was driving uptown Friday night on 3rd Avenue conscious of the stream of thoughts in my mind and realizing that I was not devoting as much of my brain as I used to on the visual field in front of me. Liberating, as my thoughts now occupy more of my mind, allowing the vagaries of my attention to flow unimpeded: what would my life be in a warmer climate? BGCF and other musical patterns that I now recognize on the larger scale of measures and not just notes, the difficulties of abandoning oneself in conjuntion with another person, the roads are more dangerous on Friday nights when all the suburban people come in and drive too fast (yes Queens, BK, BX and SI are the burbs also) and anyone who whines about the skills of the cab drivers today certainly wasn't here 10 years ago when it was dangerous, if only they would pull out of the traffic stream to discharge, and that 15 seconds of realizing I was driving by Robin's place although I don't remember which building - all less interesting in summary, now passed, now stripped of the TONE of the voice, all less interesting than the stream at the time. Is it laziness, disinterest, or the loss of energy that has not trying to get recapture the tone (or at least manufacture a reasonable facsimile?) ....enough of the liberation. Dangerous in the diminished sensory input, or just a loss of touch with my surroundings. Danger!
I do need that recorder that captures my inner voice. Would someone mind making one? I can't imagine it's that hard. Easier now than it's ever been.
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1 comment:
registering your writing. of all that you do, it's what you're best at, not including the gracious host thing, which is also an art.
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