wr_post38:subj_nonfict

A HIGHLY SENSORY NIGHT

i saw buckaroo banzai in the 8th dimension. jon lithgow, jeff goldblum, christopher lloyd. in a movie about worlds within our worlds inhabited by aliens who are inherently racist. or something. the best/only good part was at the end when all the characters marched through a water runoff ditch in VERY 80s clothes to a happy, upbeat keyboard ballad. there was much footloose and fancy free walking afoot (every pun intended).
then i went to old cabell and listened to yyyy play the piano. i had this startlingly obvious revelation. the piano, in its form, is a beautifully self-limited instrument. one can only link notes that are near one another. if one desires dramatic pitch change without silences it becomes necessary to create two patterns or progress through the scale. there are no overly dramatic changes and yet theres this wonderful synthesis. its the kind of realization that makes you want to drop acid and look at the keys as they depress. the beauty of all things that can only be truly experienced through drugs (i assume...because though i wouldnt do them, the thought haunts me. comprehending the secrets of something. finding the world within inanimate objects. finding the life that people put into things when they interact with them. like the velveteen rabbit. the love made it real. the piano is real...or something). yyyy said something that triggered all this. its on my hand. i HAD to write it down, but the idea still alludes me. if i wrote poetry, THIS would be a fucking amazing poem. Everywhere and in everything i try to define aaaa. how it makes me feel. to the point that i stretch to connect things. songs, phrases, emotions that are at the core of everything we see and do. its fucking 3 am and i dont know what im saying and THAT is truth. this is the basis of my thought. sleep deprivation and nervous energy. unlinked dijointed paragraphs of words that, when read in the right sequence (not necessarily sequentially) reveal the meaning of my thoughts. the random quotes. to quote something the "vomit from my mind". ahh arthur miller, you sad bastard. the RAW ACID TRUTHS!!! the concrete its all i want. but back to the point....what yyyy said. it's been trying to play this song for a couple years (and i cant tell that anythings wrong with it) but it says it still eludes it. and it said...heres the money shot:
"I KNOW EVERY NOTE, I CAN SEE THEM IN MY MIND, BUT MY HANDS DONT MOVE FAST ENOUGH."
thats it. i know, or think i know, what it needs. i could be everything for it, if i could get my hands to move fast enough (and thats to be read symbolically). get it? theres some aspect of the execution thats missing. if i could get it right i would have it all. i would know what came next...
[TANGENT: I am a perfectionist]
then on the way back here i found a great big horse chestnut on the ground. it was smooth and brown with the grainy whitish spot on one side along with the indent. i tossed it around a bit. chucked it up and down the stair wells in rogers and holmes. then i peeled it open and looked at the meat of it. it reminded me of a walnut. so i ate some. it tasted like a really shitty walnut. like vomit or plastic. then steve had some too. i had to get a dew to kill the taste. i am like a fucking infant. i experience the world through my mouth. people were tossing the left over oreos at the picnic yesterday and i caught one and ate it. or the chicken nugget i ate off the commons floor at EHS. it would make me feel stupid, but i've done much dumber shit and im not done yet.
speaking of the picnic...i found a tennis ball at some point yesterday and spent most of the picnic trying to get it stuck on a ledge midway up the buildings surrounding the quad. i tried back spin, approaching it sideways to give it room to slow to a stop...nothing. then finally BBBBB chucked it on the roof. i think its in the gutter. thats sad. its not really what i was trying to achieve. im beginning to have a distaste for BBBBB. its a braggart. it cant really help it, but its stories go on and on and on. av;bheriaoghkj;fhbrd;lkahfg;lah. oh well. we all have problems and if this is the worst of mine, i'll consider myself very lucky.
it smelled like fishing (dead worms) again tonight. muggy muggy muggy.
i tried to slide down the wet grass near the amphitheater, but it was at the stage where it wasnt QUITE slick enough. i just stuck and nearly fell over.