i read, if you use the wrong fly long enough, it becomes the right one, an analogy from fishing. i guess i must believe it, cause the emptiness of our fate in the universe hasn't stopped me. for example, i got out of bed this morning. of course i had to fight my basic human laziness. first thing, i turned on the computer. now i know 99% of my time on it an absolute waste. i delete ads for half an hour. my in-box never empty, yet i feel a foolish sense of accomplishment.
various wise guys have come up with answers. bliss, feeling alive, carrots and rewards. these work for children. ah, christmas morning, i couldn't wait, up at the crack of dawn to stare at the presents. we didn't have a lot of them so each individual one meant a lot. as an adult, i've attended feeding frenzies, the packages so many the kids go glassy-eyed, the whole mission to unrap everything while what's inside merely decoration. talk about a nietzschean reversal of values!
the cartoonist hugh mccloed states, 'we need social objects.' okay, i hate the term, yet he's onto something. the local bookstore survives only because of it's cafe. for hugh we crave company like seals on the beach. and i'm no better than anyone. i go for coffee every day just to watch the faces, the combinations of people. for example, last night i sat near a table of three girls studying. they looked so young, being so small and beautiful, and i couldn't place their origin, though opening their mouths they sounded like every other american girl with a twang. puzzles like this confront me every time i go out.
i admit a fascination with portraits. yesterday, these popped into the camera: http://www.pbase.com/wwp/meso2 and a couple weeks ago i indulged my fascination with japanese netsuke: http://www.pbase.com/wwp/net did these give me a purpose? no, they gave me a thrill, opened up mysteries i can never fathom. personally, i don't know why people keep having children. social objects? probably. they pull you into a different world and team you up with parents and teachers. plus, you think you have them figured out? hah! you'll never know why the tw0-year old walked over to a plant and perforated its leaves with a hole-punch.
you don't need a reason to be happy. astounded by this mantra, i try to keep it in mind. maybe all we need digging ditches is movement, smoking a cigarette: the motion of our hands. even if alcohol kills us, it's a pleasant form of suicide. ultimately, we know too much, and understand we know nothing at all and can't let that stop us.
