This is not the moment to be rounded off by a turn-of-the-century childhood memory, or the expiration of a favorite aunt; not the occasion to elucidate a painting by Degas. I’m not suggesting that we pass a law against the past, or try to close the factory responsible for making sense, -only that it might be nice to wallow in the present for awhile, it might be practical to occupy the molecules in the very nether surface of your fingertips at the instant they make contact with a cold doorbell or a warm girl. Do you agree? All the time we’ve saved since we stopped praying for our souls hasn’t filled the hole inside the human gut; hasn’t stopped the human nervous system from being very nervous. But maybe, if we listen hard we can find the frequency, the still point in the center of the wave where history stops repeating its instructions, and leaves some room to breathe. It is a simple task- just the job, on any given day, of raising the whole world above your head- one aspirin, one teacup, one traffic ticket at a time; the way a volunteer might raise his hand to apply for evolution, even though it means the possible extinction of his former personality, even though it means replacing what is right in front of you with what is right in front of you again and again with a vigorous insistence until the moment and the room are one. Oh lord, allow me to continue to preach your gospel of rock and roll among the deaf and dear defeated creatures of the heart. Shield us from the fear which translates as fatigue; retrain our minds from their unhappiness, and make our lives the theatre for many strange delights for which we’ll twist and shout, and sometimes even sing, as if we didn’t know the meaning of the word responsibility, or as if part of our responsibility belonged to joy. - Volunteer, Tony Hoaglund
Posted on: Sun, 29 Jun 2014 02:25:46 +0000
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