The End Is Not The Beginning, But Often Is

It’s the cycle, the mirror-go-round he rides that makes him motion sick. Hear the music? Almost taunting — pipe organs and whistles, a statement made by jesters of the cosmos who often rattle their bells and drink wine from their canvas sacks, red dribbling down chin, and staining their shirts. Yes, this ride is the ultimate amusement park.

When he tries to love, he feels pain.

When he tries to sing, he gets laryngitis.

When he tries to dance, he gets sciatica.

This ride is going around and around, and no matter how often he gets sick, he still refuses to get off.

He believes emotions are God’s biggest joke. We are given a mind so we can reason, then emotions are thrown in, a huge cosmic monkey wrench designed to fuck things up, keeping us confused and quite often paralyzed. Emotions were made a hell of a lot stronger than the mind and often the fight isn’t an easy one. Emotions the winner by TKO. Crimes of passion, sickness, headaches, vomit.

We can not be automatons, though, only intellect, for then beauty cannot be appreciated. Without this monkey wrench, how can we smile at that beautiful child? How can we love that wonderful person in your life? Conversely, how can we hate those we absolutely despise? Lately, emotions have been getting the best of him. Love can do that do you. Something that’s supposed to be beautiful is quite often extremely painful. The fire was lit long ago but he doesn’t think the flames have burned him properly.

How is it that after all this pain, he’s still able to love?

New York City, September 1998