The Things I Say. What I Am.

"Amy, time-stilled and nameless, wandering the forgotten, lightless world forever, alone and voiceless, but for this: What I am, What I am, What I am."

What I am. What I am. What I am. What I am.

Not words that flow easily from me.

The more I move forward the more I realize how passionate I am.

The more I move the more I see how undirected my passion is.

I have gone through so many obsessive phases in my life. So many different things have occupied my intensity. But nothing has ever sustained it. I wander on.

I wander on.

.

A clogging.
A throbbing.
A desperate appeal.

A silence.
A yearning.
A truth to reveal.

A spine.
A bridge.
A boundless ravine.

Our Hearts.
Our Minds.
Do you know what I mean?

Forget.

Oh, Inglorious Quest,
Tell me what I know,
Confirm my intimation,
I'm no different from the rest.

Oh, Sweet Time,
Take me in larger circles,
Spare me my reasons,
Lift this need to rhyme.

Oh, Gentle Mind,
Let the truth be felt,
Embrace the cutting edge,
Learn to leave it behind.

Oh, Heart of Hearts,
Forget.

Myself.

With a less willful willing,
I set myself free.

I went into my heart,
by giving in to sleep.

Books. The Antifragile.

Tonight I finished Justin Cronin's The Passage. The longest novel I've read in a long time. An exciting book. Virals, Dracs, Smokes, Vampires. Whatever you want to call them. It was a world inhabited by horrible beings that wanted to eat you alive, and maybe, if you were (un)lucky, turn you into one of them. It was a world in which people struggled to stay alive, to love, to reproduce, to continue the process of civilization.

Soon I hope to begin Nassim Taleb's book, Antifragile: Things That Gain From Disorder.

In the past months I've recently recognized myself as a fragile person. I don't deal well with uncertainty. I cling to certainty and stability. I break easily.

I am fragile.

I saw Taleb speak the other day. He claimed that most people think that the opposite of fragility is robustness or resiliency. Taleb, however, believes that this is an inaccurate dichotomy  and that we are really dealing with a triad. We have the fragile (which breaks under stress), the robust (which stays stable despite stress), and the antifragile (which gains and grows from stress).

A box of fragile goods will be labeled 'Fragile: Handle With Care'. The opposite of that fragility, therefore, would be 'Antifragile: Please Misuse'.

I am a fragile person.

I want to become an antifragile person.

I don't yet know how.

I've been meditating somewhat frequently.

Most of my writing has been poetry.

I'm trying to get closer to my emotions.

But I don't yet know how to become antifragile.

I don't know how to gain from stress and disorder.

This is not a purely intellectual task, obviously.

I will continue to meditate, reflect, and build a healthy relationship with my therapist.

But I also hope to pursue the intellectual element of this by reading Antifragile.

Hopefully I'll have some thoughts about it in the coming weeks.

In the mean time, I'll say, 'Worrying? Fear? Ain't nobody got time for that.'

I Don't Want Love,

 And Other Lies

Passion.

Placed at my feet,
I had no choice
But to gorge away.

Placed at my feet,
I couldn't help but
Move fully into it.

Placed at my feet,
I knew only how
To give in to life.

So I tumbled forward.
Aggressive and curious,
Bone and blood.

.

It doesn't make sense to me.
The way I move and flow
With bodies and minds
So seemingly different.

Because as we fall into the drink,
We say one another's names
Before we sink. We lift our heads
And focus our eyes.

We move towards one another,
Both asking, 'Lift this weight'.
This weight of expectations,
Of broken desires.

Move with me.
We cannot stop.

12:35

Before I knew it, your
Words told me something
I'd decided to not feel.

I looked down at my phone to check the time.
12:35.
A nearly linear time.

I wanted the satisfaction of steady development.
1. 2. 3. 4.
It seemed so appealing to me.

But there I was.
1. 2. 3. 5.
A richer, more realistic progression, one DeLanda would be happy to see me embrace.

There I was.
Wanting that clean progression.
Yet knowing that I have to live in the fives.

This Year.

All these different ideas about time.
All this confusion about
Which thing is stopping me
From being right here right now.

I envy those living
In the day-to-day.
Without care for time or place.
Without History.