A Stoned Throw Away
I took the longest drive after rehearsals…ok maybe not the longest drive, but I did take a couple wrong turns on purpose so I could drive longer.
I think I understand what Slightly Stoopid was referring to. High drives are my favorite (don’t harsh my mellow). The newly renovated house on the corner reminded me of the tooth paste bottle caps from that Willy Wonka movie, where eventually a house was built from them. The dad I think built some sort of sculpture, a replica of their house I think. The model was made from those same defective toothpaste caps, the awful the no good the unwanted discarded.
…
I love catching moments of myself doing things I’ve done a million times. Remembering how awkward and different pushing a door open with my hip felt at first, and admiring the fluidity of the current moment. The “Inter-connectedness” of things and how knowledge carry’s is fascinating. I remember winnowing seeds for the first time and recognizing how similar it was to hand grinding weed. We hold the same postures completing tasks completely unrelated but physically similar in some way. No one taught us what would feel most natural to us—life experiences and instinct differ from individual to individual.
The transference of physiological movement knowledge becomes unconscious at a certain point. I pick up a quarter differently than the next person. We know how to shift our weight and dexterity based upon the texture of a surface. It’s almost like having a fingerprint, or a type of walk, each of these things share their unique qualities that will never change and that are distinct to us.
The weight and active states of our bodies do also play an important role when regarding posture or weight bearing, or hunching. We become aware of the pure mass of things. After interacting with an object long enough we gather sufficient data which we store and remember. Those data tell us just how hard to kick open a cabinet, or a door, or the perfect angle to throw a bucket so that its contents spill out and propel the receptacle away. We just get used to things. This idea can be boiled down to muscle memory. We do a lot of things without thinking, and without telling ourselves to, but it’s because we are constantly just reacting, or adapting to our environments. When we become conscious of the way we behave we gain better control over ourselves and our surroundings.
…
Connect on a human to human level—eco fascism is bad, do not simply shrug yourself into inaction.
…
Things to remember to always have and keep:
Love
Joy
Drugs
And sex
…
We fill the voids of silence with sounds that can be called words, called conversation. If the tail end of my last sentence falls with the intonation of gentility and quiet, I expect to receive just that. Introspection is peaceful, and often my mind can get clouded as I begin a silent meditation and it is interrupted with more speech. There is a version of me which exists only within my head and it’s calm there, the peaceful place of my own body: a temple. This mind palace has halls and corridors which I explore with a trailing hand, grazing the walls with my curiosity, peaking around each corner with anticipation. Something stops me from opening the next door…
“And where did you grow up?”
I pull the answer from a different part of my brain. Respond. Talking again, having a conversation and I find my face forming a smile, my hands moving enthusiastically, my chest breathing out what sounds like a laugh. I finally catch up to my body and fill in the gaps. Instead of seeing myself from an internal perspective…the inside looking out, I take up the space where the external version of me exists. Here i begin see through my eyes and not from the side stage of my peripherals. It’s like I’m split into two: the intangible and the visceral. Within is where I find comfort yet simultaneously, I need to lose myself.
