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Lefron » If I Lay Here
© 2010 lefron

If I Lay Here

I have found over the past few weeks that the moments in which I am most inspired and have the most articulate of ideas are the ones in which I have absolutely no access to a method of recordation. On long runs around Greenlake when all I can hear is the pounding of my feet and the beat of my pounding pod, (sans-i), in my car when I’m on my way to an important interview to which I of course have forgotten my pen & paper, or nights like tonight, when I’m out ‘n about with nothing but my phone and a $5 bill to pay for my 1 and 1/2 drinks.

In these pinnacle moments of ultimate thought, I generally reflect on previous blog entries and past experiences that cause me to think in such a sparatic and narccissistic manner. I conclude that my thoughts are consolidated to a point of confusion rather than justified to a means; and I somehow solve all the nonsense in my head with a simplistic and formal answer (which of course I can never write down and are therefore lost and I’m back to the cyclical/irrational thoughts in my head). So I’m making an effort to remember.

I remember how I criticize myself. How I wonder why all my thoughts that are of the utmost interest to me are ones derived from a negative place that somehow need fixing. How suddenly all these “things” are so “hard” and I have to find a way to make sense of them and rationalize my overtly satonic views. (Although I’m fairly positive, wouldn’t you say?) I remember how I try so hard to fight the norm, neglect society, and stick it to the man, when in reality it is not the norm or society I choose to fight, but the way I use the norm to dodge society that I choose to enchant.

I have driven myself so far into an anti-society hole that I literally am in a fucking hole and I’m surrounded with dirt and some worms and maybe a cracker or two that some kid dropped in when he walked by. I am sitting alone in a hole with nothing to do (you can’t fit a bicycle in a hole, nor can you get any kind of filming equipment down here to film a documentary), no one to challenge me, and no where to go. I am sitting on wet moldy shit looking up at the sky watching it go from dusk to dawn, stuck with my own chaotic brain. What is my purpose, where am I going, how long am I going to be living in a hole, (and of course I can’t write any of this down because I’M IN A HOLE MADE OF DIRT), how can I possibly grow as a person, WTF AM I DOING?

Luckily I get cell phone service in my hole so I can discover via BBM that my friend is also in a doomful pit of darkness and that I’m not alone in my sparatic misery. Sure sometimes it’s comforting to know that the rest of the young adult world is WTFing with me, but when you’re living alone in a hole you don’t really give a fuck what the people up on land are doing; it’s hard to care when you’re IN A HOLE. I started to wonder how I could escape. Maybe if I kept digging deeper, I’d get to China and since no one would know me I could simply start a new life. I could just start taking extended naps and hope that sleeping would stop me from having to hear my thoughts, and maybe I’d feel less insane. But-of-course, some dumb bitch inside me wanted to figure out how to get back to land and convinced me there’d be a way to do it. Ugh what a bitch.

I argued with the bitch for a while, figuring she’d get lazy and let me nap instead of climbing out. But to no avail, she promised me there was some way out, some contraption we could build, some bizarre climbing technique we could employ to get our ass on land again. Again and again I said no this is it, this is my hole, I’ve been here before, I know I’ll be back again, so I might as well just fucking stay here. The bitch really didn’t give a fuck, ensuring me the time I had on land would outweigh the naps I had and would take in my hole. Begrudgingly, I dug my fingers into the dirt wall of my hole. I weakly and passively prodded my toes into the soil and pushed myself up towards the surface, until I was able to roll my dumb limp excuse of a body onto the grass. Laying on my back, I looked up at the afternoon sky above me. Alright bitch, you were right. It’s easier to breathe up here. So why did I fall in my hole?

The structure I so dread was made for society by people; the same people who once had no structure, who knew less formality. We as humans created structure and patterns like school and jobs because without these distractions we’d all be living in lifeless holes drowning in our thoughts. It’s in our nature to use patterns and routines to literally keep us from thinking ourselves to death.

The structure is not what I neglect; the pattern of life that this world no matter how diverse has explained to every one of us as neccessary is not my map; it is my distraction, my “occupation” (get it? I LOVE PLAYS ON WORDS). The emphasis I need to find (or have found? not sure yet) is not on neglecting responsibilty or obstaining from or acting upon a neccessity, but rather on how I approach my structural obligations.

Hole, it was weird to hang out again. I really didn’t like it. I hope I don’t see you for a long time. And when I do, you better believe some bitch is gonna pull me out of the ground.

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