Surrealist gesture

November 21, 2007

15. not all of paradise is lost

Filed under: i am the fire that flares up again — Jonathan Douglas Duran @ 2:38 pm

A hard, heavy pit in my stomach. Filled with cancer, with fears, with thoughts. Filled with that familiar lie of compromise. Sitting as heavy and inert as a boulder. Our bodies, meat, bone, fluid, muscle, etc. Ostensibly playing out this act of living. They lead us around, passing our gasses and filling them back up again. The science, the truth behind our bodies, how biology refuses to let loose of our hands. Leading us into our inevitable death.

 

To live is to feel, to die is to make good on that promise.

One final swipe, the grand gesture which brings the feeling, the one your whole life has been leading to. The last gasp, the last sting, the last little bit of anything. The moment comes and you greedily suck up your decisive drop of life, you feel everything you’ve ever felt all at once, then you just stop. I (refuse to) believe that. I (cannot) accept the inherent simplicity.

I want to know…I want to know, what it feels like. I want a diagram, a map, an explanation. I want to see it live on camera and hear it in surround sound. I want 3-D, high definition death. I want to study every convulsion, every squeak, and shake loose the secrets we’ll hide from ourselves until that final moment, when it’s too late. Then, when the instant presents itself at its most vulnerable we’ll throw our heads back with disregard and let loose the largest, most elaborate laugh of our lives. Our teeth will light the sky like brilliant diamonds. Only then can we feel anything that comes close to living like an orgasm. Those few blank seconds of freedom where you feel nothing but pleasure. Everything is erased except the moment and you feel great, you feel pleasure and nothing besides. You forget everything in the world, in yourself, in others, you only have that grand wave of release, the rush of endorphins and that bliss that tastes like heaven; emancipated from between your legs. A large sigh for the numb beauty, the white flash of escape. Then you come again, only this time it’s just back to reality, cruel and malicious, unfair and difficult.

The rain suddenly started coming down. A deluge, a giant rinse.

Laughter, strange laughter

1 Comment »

  1. non science, non truth behind our bodies, non biology, non refusals, nothing, absolutely nothing and everything lead us into our inevitable death while alive.

    Comment by susanawdee — November 21, 2007 @ 3:21 pm


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