3 Feb 2009, 11:51pm
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the good earth

oh the weather outside is beautiful. oh the plum blossoms down the street. you may say, “no, that’s global warming. that’s not good!” i say, let’s dance while the sky crashes down. i mean what else are you gonna do?

i am not really sure about the apocalypse. you know? god knows the earth will be just fine. the earth has a fuckin’ stomach bug. it’s been feeling pretty crappy recently, roiling and turmoiling, but it’s just gotta vomit us all up and it’ll feel much better. yeah you get rid of the good stuff, the vitamins and all that, when it happens but the body–and the earth–knows how to replenish all of that. it’s really just too bad about us, about the self-importance that evolution has imbued us with, our desperation to survive. i want to be long gone before the earth refreshes itself. i want to believe that the earth will remember me. as more than a bad meal. this is a ridiculous analogy. oh, the fuckin’ human condition.

i am getting more and more radical in my thoughts, but my actions haven’t figured out how to catch up yet. the disjoint is uncomfortable. i’m not sure what my actions should be. i ride my bike; i eat vegetarian; i swear to god i would grow so much food in my backyard if it didn’t seem like such a time + money investment in something i’m going to leave in another six months (but i’ve been in this house a year and a half–if only i’d known); i let myself be coerced into joining greenpeace, when by almost anyone’s standards i can’t afford it (but i can ride the bus less and make my own coffee etc etc can’t i?), by an incredibly persistent canvasser and his baby polar bear imitation; i feel guilty a lot even though i know guilt is unproductive and stupid…

time. okay.

i also feel exquisitely happy when the sky is blue and the plum trees are just beginning to blossom and i arrive at rehearsal after a warm lovely bike ride through the dusk and the city…

when i rode through waterfront park this evening, something in my perspective clicked and everything suddenly looked like a tilt-shift photograph–the downtown buildings to my left, the river and the bridges to my right. every tree and every building and all of us tiny miniatures. we are all so very small. but not unimportant, because we are the only people to whom “importance” means anything at all. how strange, how very strange, to know what we know. no wonder we make shit up, like god and economics. and souls.

anyway, portland weather is always weird. who the hell ever knows when spring will come?

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