(no subject)
May. 9th, 2009 03:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
my_window_seatI didn't get much sleep last night and had to get up earlier than my body or brain were quite ready for so I'm in that awakened state that feels slightly out of synch with where the rest of the world is with itself.
Like watching a movie where the sound is slightly behind the words being formed -
I see lips moving but the sense of what is being said is still a few seconds in the future, and by the time I've caught up to what just happened, it's already gone.
My hands are shaking, and just like in that movie, what I want to say is still waiting to catch up to the keys even as I reach for them.
And like that movie, it's all just pictures and sounds and it's nothing like real life - it's all really just a reflection of itself, scripted out in advance and storyboarded and immutable, and like a movie where something that should have been an outtake - an actor stumbles and a line is garbled but the accident is just a little more perfect than the moment that should have happened and the director with more insight than ego watches the dailies and turns to the editor and says,
"no, don't cut that - leave it in."
And it all changes.
It's still the same story.
It's going to end the same way.
And the people who know how it was supposed to be will still have that idea in their minds, and it will still exist -
That other moment, crafted in a specific way, is still laser-etched in words on a printed page, and inked in illustrations on another page, and the line that should have been said one way is laughed about at the after-party and that time-line hangs there, truncated but just as real as the bowl of fruit shaped in oils in a still-life.
Everything happens all at once and as it was meant to and in no way like the way it was supposed to be.
It's perfect because it is broken.
Nothing I've just said was what I had in mind when I sat down here. I haven't said anything that I meant to say. And I'm going to lay down now and let my brain catch up to where my body has traveled before it - let the sounds catch up to their meanings - power down, and when I get up, things will start making sense again.
And I will miss this moment.
I'll know there were things that I wanted to say, and also know that they shouldn't have been said and that what is here is exactly what it has to be -
We're perfect because we are broken.
Like watching a movie where the sound is slightly behind the words being formed -
I see lips moving but the sense of what is being said is still a few seconds in the future, and by the time I've caught up to what just happened, it's already gone.
My hands are shaking, and just like in that movie, what I want to say is still waiting to catch up to the keys even as I reach for them.
And like that movie, it's all just pictures and sounds and it's nothing like real life - it's all really just a reflection of itself, scripted out in advance and storyboarded and immutable, and like a movie where something that should have been an outtake - an actor stumbles and a line is garbled but the accident is just a little more perfect than the moment that should have happened and the director with more insight than ego watches the dailies and turns to the editor and says,
"no, don't cut that - leave it in."
And it all changes.
It's still the same story.
It's going to end the same way.
And the people who know how it was supposed to be will still have that idea in their minds, and it will still exist -
That other moment, crafted in a specific way, is still laser-etched in words on a printed page, and inked in illustrations on another page, and the line that should have been said one way is laughed about at the after-party and that time-line hangs there, truncated but just as real as the bowl of fruit shaped in oils in a still-life.
Everything happens all at once and as it was meant to and in no way like the way it was supposed to be.
It's perfect because it is broken.
Nothing I've just said was what I had in mind when I sat down here. I haven't said anything that I meant to say. And I'm going to lay down now and let my brain catch up to where my body has traveled before it - let the sounds catch up to their meanings - power down, and when I get up, things will start making sense again.
And I will miss this moment.
I'll know there were things that I wanted to say, and also know that they shouldn't have been said and that what is here is exactly what it has to be -
We're perfect because we are broken.
