Saturday, March 13, 2004
community keeps alive and the scientist sees it over and over cells communicating cells feeding communal pulses and then the one who doesn't commune the one the other cells stop giving the latest cell-slang doesn't just die it kills itself. you can see it because they've seen it and they showed me in a documentary they were in, even though they don't know me they gave me the larger horror's nosedive to the smallest daily catastrophes.
in bed, after the documentary of imploding introvert cells, is it just me or did i feel a cell on my knee off itself? what the fuck! this flashlight is too weak, can't go to the doctor at this hour, and of course it's me, it's my cell, it's dead, and it's me because it's all i am, THEM, and i don't know THEM, even though they're me, but i am THEM and i have no choice unless of course i kill myself which of course kills THEM.
but when we die it's really just thoughts. don't you think? thoughts? just thoughts i think are all that die. every moment of thought is built from a previous thought, there are no thoughts that don't have previous thoughts, your first thought, the very first thought was an extension of your mother's bank of thoughts this tidal wave of a life of thought as you're pushed into the hands of another life waiting there, gloved and masked another life of billions of cells and thoughts and suddenly one day you understand the city blocks of granite and brick shooting off the corners into the air are solid waves of thought that have been breaking the shores of existence for millions of years, possibly longer, maybe always, and, it's, these thoughts that die then after they've been shared, die in the mind, maybe not shared, maybe entire alphabets have been secretly thought in heads that will not share and the heads die, all the cells reforming to earth, the thoughts however, the alphabets however, end. is that a waste? we don't know about it, so what difference does it make?
on the deserted island in the deep deep south pacific is how the story went. and we've all heard it and wondered, maybe wanted. the act of removal. alone is alone with the body, the community of billions of cells, and maybe if there's not enough food you'll have to cook a limb or two. and there you are after you've cooked dinner, sitting there under your one palm tree, eating your foot, and your thoughts are your thoughts your hundred-thousand weaving knotting thoughts that are your own because they're your particular pattern of thoughts, but meanwhile, in the blinking cities out of reach, thoughts are racing with new patterns as they share with one another a thought, an image, a thing which means something to someone and something else to someone else because the thoughts that have made each life are different patterns and it's all memory where these thoughts are kept and constantly referred to, memory memory memory memory, do you remember, yes you remember, and it's like this you remember what you remember, this as all your own. but it's a continuous dinner buffet we walk to together. but back on the island the single life with the boat wreck by the rocks sees that it's like a disease, thoughts, memory, creating new thoughts and memories, even alone with no one to talk to, brand new thoughts and when you try to dig them out with a knife you brought on the boat for no reason that you can remember you are going to stop all thoughts and you're right of course, you will, you can. and one day someone will find your skeleton under the tree, a knife in your head and your foot in your mouth, but since you forgot paper and pens there are no thoughts to share except the knife and the foot. backing up a bit, eating a bag of pears you forgot you had on the boat, both feet intact, the billions of stars overhead tonight has the eyes sifting light from infinite darkness all the shifting structures of the firmament everything as far away from that island as possible can be felt. through every sense absorbed for the sake of belief that whatever thoughts push us into settling on who we want to become, these frequencies of the senses hold us. community is not the only choice but then again neither is life.