Posts tagged ‘leica’
anxiety is like a big bear standing next to you. if the bear could talk, he would be saying, “i’m going to fucking eat you.” but anxiety involves more than just the bear. because in this scenario, you are tied to a tree. you can move your hands and your fingers. but your legs are going nowhere. and even if somehow you could separate your lower body from your upper body and you actually survive, i’m telling you now you are not going to out-crawl an athletic, salivating bear whose only mission in life is to eat you.
but anxiety is more than just you, a tree, and a bear. that little motherboard in your human condition comes up with a load of coping mechanisms to deal with certain kinds of trauma. you know, suppression, repression, those kinds of terms. but when it comes to anxiety, that little motherboard of yours really can’t do anything but turn anxiety into a car. and you start riding through life on that fucking car and you look out the window and wave at your friends and take pictures of the pretty scenery outside. and you think, problems? sure, i’ve got problems but not real problems.
it’s all fine and dandy until something happens. and that “happens” can be something like a bump in the road or a sharp turn or just one of your fucking eyes that stares in the wrong direction. and you’ll know when the “happens” happens, because you’re going to look down at the steering wheel and realize you are tied to a tree with a hungry bear standing next to you.
sometimes, you have to take a deep breath and just dive in. yes, you might drown or encounter some kind of poisonous serpent or a new species of eel with sharp teeth. but imagine the excitement, the accomplishment, the pride you will feel when you find out that your lungs are actually gills and your hands are actually webbed tentacles. so get in there. get in there as fast as you can.
alright fine, we’re related. but that doesn’t mean i told her how to do everything. and even if she did pick it up from somewhere or another, you still have to be an olympic trained gymnast like me to do those moves.
re-guuuuuuu-laaaaaaaaayyyyy-torrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-zzzz!
mount up.
whose listening to you?
when i go to sleep, i dream of things big and small. big like headlining madison square garden and singing like chris cornell or brent smith or maybe bringing about peace in the middle east or paying off my student loans with the money in my checking account or getting to spend a couple more hours with my dad before he died or teaching my three year old how to read. small like eating rocky road ice cream or swimming in the ocean without any fear of sharks or hanging out in prospect park eating some fried chicken. but right before i wake up, i find myself treading water amidst hundreds of paper boats, the kind you make with a few folds on a piece of folder paper and can double as a hat. and then the paper boats start spinning real fast like tops or something and when i try to put them back on course, they all start slipping toward a waterfall and then they jump off when they get to the edge as if they had legs. i watch as they fly into the air and do somersaults and flips and once in a while i think they’re going to float with the wind and maybe transform into a paper plane but then they just kind of dive down toward the bottom every time with a barely noticeable splash and then they’re lost in the spray and rocks and moss and water.
stop and smell the moments.
once in a while, i dream of molars encompassed by fields of gold flakes.
there is a magic show that i keep in a box at home underneath my bed inside of a secret plastic bag that’s folded between two envelopes that i remember buying the first time i went to paris and saw the beautiful lights. i really miss those days because those were the days you could fly literally with these carpets that you could get anywhere for a pittance. all you really needed was a place to fly and there was plenty of that in the countryside. my father owned a farm there with all these chickens and i remember they use to come in at dinner and ask us to sing songs and we did because that’s the kind of family we were.
i got some x-box back in my room.
e v e r y d a y aperture 