Sunday, September 25, 2016

faith ?

If you're going to claim that you know something, then it should be provable, otherwise, how do you know you know it? just being surrounded by lots of people who agree with you doesn't prove anything - it might prove quite a lot of things, actually but not what you might like to think it does, and quite likely not stuff you're going to be comfortable with, either ; 

And faith is just mad; it's like you have to leap to the end of an argument or discussion about something and act as though you haven't been, and then, apparently - well, allegedly - it all makes sense _ but what wouldn't if you've already committed to believing in it? you might stick with any sort of nonsense out of sheer embarrassment at admitting you'd been taken for such a fool _ if you're going to apply this faith thing to anything, then anybody can just believe whatever they please, and then who's to say who's right or wrong?

It's a very good sign if the various areas of the stuff you know about sort of all fit together, like biochemistry and engineering fit together, even though they're completely different fields because they're linked by clearly provable physical laws and mechanisms that make sense and that demonstrably work_ 

You see, I've met some exceptionally intelligent people whose thinking is all joined up until you get to their hearts, and then it's like that's an area that has been fenced off as out-of-the-bounds, not subject to the rules about proof and likelihood - even plausibility - that they'd apply as a matter of course in every other area which might not be so bad if was some fairly trivial area, like which is the best football team or something, but it isn't_

Ten times ,maybe more, this month John came and stood before my doorstep _ he never rings the bell or knocks_ he takes a stroll around the house, gets to the rear wall, the place where you can climb up and look at the garden, sees what I've planted, how they're growing - maybe they're not growing just yet, there's been a minor landslide, a path-sized strip of grass, about a metre long, the rest of the ground has slipped away, forming shallow, crumbled little slopes of dark-brown clods of earth, some of them stringy with the pale roots of plants and some of them lying toppled at all angles, the rain has not yet smoothed the soil completely so it probably seems like something has happened in the last few weeks_

John puts his hand against the glass and takes a peek inside the only room that can be seen through the ground floor window, sometimes the lights are on, others, there's just a small thing left by the doorway, something to tell John we welcome strangers in these parts of the world_ he's quite self-conscious knowing there are neighbors around who might be able to see him, but he's not fearful, he looks back at the screen and for an instant, before the little squiggle of sun flashes inside my space and disappears again, he can see the reflection of his face_ somewhat to his own surprise, he smiles _ 

I'm not surprised. I perceive this as curiosity adding to his sense of self-perception. A lady once wrote a book about her life, in which John is mentioned. He found it invigorating. To some extent, if what I'm planting infects him (I have to devalue what it does) with self-awareness (since I've done as he pleased and never picked up the phone again to ask "are you okay, John?")  then why not do it? John is my friend. Or was. Or that's what I feel he is.  

I didn't go out last night. John did. He'll go out every Friday and Saturday and Sunday morning till late in the afternoon. So I sat by the window (I wasn't expecting him to drive past my house) and browsed a bit on the devices.

The night was cool, smelled of cigarettes and crisp chill, a bit leafy and town like. I watched a video that was stocked. John driving around the city, it was morning, it was raining, he was listening to Radiohead's Daydreaming, filming the ride.

I hadn't asked how he felt when he sent it., I remembered commenting "it's only natural to feel like you're going to choke if you're listening to such sad songs on a rainy day". Nor had I  told him this was one of the things that I loved so much, when he took me along on his car rides, when he showed me around his city, or sent me vids of the storm outside his white window, with the white radiator glowing underneath.

What I had sent  was a great deal of the white washed walls and the sunny streets, the blue and the optimistic kind of romance fools are only able to exhibit.

I was like... Hey yeah, that's your life, but stay with me, be here, not there.

I never stood silent because silence hints sorrow, and it would be lame. No one likes a sorrowful air. I don't. Where's life appreciation if everyone's sorrowful all day?

Then it just came out one night as all girls want to be desired. Even the toughest ones some point. That was mine, and what do you know ... it  already looked and sounded too ridiculous. I cried and John froze. I wouldn't die of missing him,  that was certain, no one ever does.
So why was I like that?
He was already too far. True, but being far is not necessarily a fault. The weight shouldn't fall on anyone's shoulders. It is what it is, distance. I didn't mind as one would mind, I wasn't going to say "okay but you have to be here now, do it"  because I always appreciate space. It's just that when you do live in all your space and all your distance you eventually miss them physically. No one should apologise so much as I did for wanting to be kissed John and for daydreaming they actually can get to this point again some day, I wanted to say, but instead, I uttered a great sobbing "fuck off". Would you do that to a friend? The next day I texted him as a way of apologising. He said we should talk about everything. We never did.

A plant won't grow overnight, the same way it won't die if it doesn't rain for a while. I made it harder than it was already. Was that what John meant to say ?

At a point I felt I should give it another go "John, all this is nonsense, you can always tell me things and I care enough to listen to the hardest of them if you are certain about what you wish to convey, no one will blame you, you just say things as you feel. If you're not into it anymore I trust you, and it's all good, we're more important than kisses and lovemaking and romancing. I care. What do you say? Shall we hit the reset button?" It would hurt like fuck, but isn't that what friends do? they listen to what you want and stick by your side?

I didn't get to say anything.
He hung up on me.
Call it an iron curtain or an answer on its own.

Going back to a garden is its own answer too,  I thought. Maybe I'm being a jerk.  Days later I texted John "Are we still not talking ?"

. . .  apparently yes

The only thing I got out of watching the vids John had sent was that they seemed to come from a person who missed me, who wanted me to ride along so I could see what he saw.

Right before going to bed I went online and cancelled a Christmas surprise flight.

You win, baby, you win_

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