I don’t know what I’m doing
or what my daydreams have evolved into, or where the ship is heading…
…but my arms are getting stronger every day.
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Forget emptiness and experience the cool spatial consequences
If you forgot all that was empty, you wouldn’t be able to move.
You also wouldn’t be able to lie down.
The rest of your life standing up. Sleeping with your arms stretched out like a cross.
But I’m not comparing you to Jesus.
If you didn’t know what boredom was, you would unlearn how to look at patterns in clouds or wallpaper or train seats or in plain, unplanned speech.
If you stopped talking, you would remember what the air looked like.
It looks like nothing.
And nothing has a lot of tasty possibilities. If you ate your own thoughts, you would remember what you did yesterday, and then you would be alive in two days at the same time, except that one would smell like mold and crumble when you fold it in three as usual before putting it back in the rickety drawer
and now we shall have a look at the new guest in town
because new is entertaining but of course the brand new guest will quickly become tiring and flushed and high on his own importance given to him by the boredom-stricken trapped lost perforated townspeople… spectators… everything that is loose and uncertain, selfish as usual, my feet are nailed to the ground
and if you could fit inside a light bulb, you would never be cold again
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Why does skin wrinkle?
Skin is freaky. Yes, it’s our largest organ. Yes, it adapts beautifully to our environment to protect our insides from being attacked by the outside world. It feels nice to be tickled, and skin wrinkles when you stay too long in the bath tub. You can also use it for furniture, handbags, shoes, belts, taxidermying dead creatures of emotional or status-boosting value…
ok, I believe my point was that skin is freaky. Why? Well, it’s so… alive. Autonomous, somehow. It can sing. It can dance. It can hurt and complain. And it can make you almost freeze to death if it is snowing outside. (why specify that it would be snowing outside? Well, I have a lot of imagination, and the border between insanity and THE CENTER OF ME is growing somewhat slimmer these days)
Why not finish a thought coherently? Skin also makes a strange sound when you slap it. And it feels icky when you draw on it with a piece of chalk. You can write on it with a ball-point pen, but see - my friend’s little brother started drawing inside a wound on his knee when he was little, and the knee swelled up like a balloon and he got blood poisoning.
I don’t really love eating grilled chicken skin anymore.
I wonder what it would be like to have to take off one’s skin before going to sleep every night.
I wonder if a hermit crab really needs skin, given that it has a shell around it.
Skin is like a world map. Lots of individual countries on it, moles, hairs, unevennesses, loveliness, sweat, slam dunk pro bunk.
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