Frantic antics
and
essential enterprises
Engulf and engross us
with utmost totality
Consuming consciousness,
nibbling at grand conceptions
Fruition flickers and falters faintly in the distance
it spurns us onward
ever more enticing, inveighling
and ultimately inescapable
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Green Eyes
Green eyed and greasy. Not sleazy, but not classy. Rode the train just to be on the way to somewhere that other people were going to. Seeing spaces and buildings and cars and signs and trash go by, fast instant images she'd trained her mind to put in slow mode. This was so that it'd be easier to notice details, imagine whole worlds for the what flew by.
A concrete lot/yard with cyclone fencing, inside were random potted plants; bamboo, wide-leafed foliage and maybe small trees, perhaps some flowers. No one was ever in it, the attached building was inscrutable. A nursery? Could she sometime go there herself and see if she might take home something in the yard? The question goes unanswered, but still is a lingering interest, 'cause she always knows that trip won't happen (at least on purpose).
Fast it goes and fast it falls in the line that she's traveling on; replaced by new ruminations and different subjects, all of them fascinating, all of them fleeting. Preoccupation with the scenes outside the box waxes and wanes, and focuses shift to those who happen to be in transit with her.
These are trickier games, harder to observe without being noticed. Being noticed means instantly becoming a part of the story, and people act differently when they are being seen; their reactions varying by circumstance and audience. She knows that nothing anyone ever does is done without influence from some external motivation or perception, and just wants to try not to be one of them. People on phones, taking just a little too loud, to make certain that their very important life is made clear to all who surround them. People engrossed in their own thoughts and thoroughly within themselves, oblivious to all around them. People who try to appear to be that kind of person, but who are really just trying to block out and make their lives and their choices and their mistakes and their futures disappear into non-existence. It's always easier to pretend that the bad things in life aren't really there at all, easier also to erase your blunders by pointing out the wrongs and misdirections of others.
And that's why she rides the train. Not sleazy, not classy. Eyes green from the grass she sees on the other side, living a makeshift glass shielded life, if only for just now. Later, her eyes will turn back to grey, and she will rinse off the greasiness built up by the living of life, take out the trash, and show a little class. Later. Not now.
A concrete lot/yard with cyclone fencing, inside were random potted plants; bamboo, wide-leafed foliage and maybe small trees, perhaps some flowers. No one was ever in it, the attached building was inscrutable. A nursery? Could she sometime go there herself and see if she might take home something in the yard? The question goes unanswered, but still is a lingering interest, 'cause she always knows that trip won't happen (at least on purpose).
Fast it goes and fast it falls in the line that she's traveling on; replaced by new ruminations and different subjects, all of them fascinating, all of them fleeting. Preoccupation with the scenes outside the box waxes and wanes, and focuses shift to those who happen to be in transit with her.
These are trickier games, harder to observe without being noticed. Being noticed means instantly becoming a part of the story, and people act differently when they are being seen; their reactions varying by circumstance and audience. She knows that nothing anyone ever does is done without influence from some external motivation or perception, and just wants to try not to be one of them. People on phones, taking just a little too loud, to make certain that their very important life is made clear to all who surround them. People engrossed in their own thoughts and thoroughly within themselves, oblivious to all around them. People who try to appear to be that kind of person, but who are really just trying to block out and make their lives and their choices and their mistakes and their futures disappear into non-existence. It's always easier to pretend that the bad things in life aren't really there at all, easier also to erase your blunders by pointing out the wrongs and misdirections of others.
And that's why she rides the train. Not sleazy, not classy. Eyes green from the grass she sees on the other side, living a makeshift glass shielded life, if only for just now. Later, her eyes will turn back to grey, and she will rinse off the greasiness built up by the living of life, take out the trash, and show a little class. Later. Not now.
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