escritos 4

I found more. All I am doing is trying to erase duplicates of files in order to pack up my life and get out of this tiny tiny town and I found that I had already digitized a good portion of them. Hmmmm. Now I really have to start sifting through the words.

If I were awake and could see all of these things with my eyes, I might have a very different opinion of it all, but in fact I am sleeping and cannot give you a conscious response. I give you a sleepy response, one which I hold in high respect. For I truly believe that the unconscious mind has a better understanding of reality than the conscious one. The conscious mind is too busy creating a dream world for the awake mind to be bothered with reality. The subconscious mind only deals with a dream world when you are sleeping, so it has the entire time while you are awake to focus, and really understand the reality that you live in. the unconscious mid is the observer during the day. So at night in your dreams it can give you it’s fucked up interpretation. So the conscious mind has to make up a dream world for you while you are awake, which is a pretty large chunk of time. So as to keep you entertained for the whole day. Where this conscious dreaming is taking place, but the whole time it is working to think of something to entertain you with, analyzing and preparing.

But she didn’t want to go to sleep, she wanted to stay up forever so as not to miss anything. In the morning when she woke, she realized that she hadn’t moved. She had fallen asleep on the couch. And then everything tumbled in. everything came rushing by but nothing was clear, or even clearer. In fact it was probably messier than when it had begun. But she couldn’t remember when that was anymore. It was all too hard, she felt weighted down. She wanted to move, to get out, to resituate herself, but she wasn’t sure how anymore. All of this had been done for her – all of this had been done before. And now it was going to be hard. Harder than she could have imagined, not that she would have ever imagined the things like this, like the way that they are now. None of it could have, would have ever occurred to her. So it seemed so much easier to her to take what had been given and stay where she was. Who was she to fuck up the natural order of things.
The morning paper read like an obituary, the morning paper was an obituary, with no one around to read it. Small photos of everyone were beside their carefully written explanations. Some had groomed themselves, while others preferred to not change the reality of the events. The events that couldn’t live in a reality, for they were too obscene, to contrived. A reality that was ceasing to exist. A reality that beginning to exist in hallucinations. Hallucinations that were communal, communion. Hallucinations that began to occur to preserve the existence of reality, preserving to become the reality.
Consciousness began to become a bit of a nuisance. A thing that could be done without. Well, was it a nuisance or a luxury. Is there really a difference? If something is considered a nuisance then it must be a luxury to have it in the first place. A nuisance is an excess, and excesses can only exist once limits have been surpassed. Limits dictate need and abundance. Abounding surpluses.

Breathe in. breathe out. And understanding a change of perspective. Perceive my perseverance. Breathe in. one deep. Breathe out. Through your mouth. New clean oxygen to the blood cells. Change. Take that out of the pickup. The line. The one liner. The punch line. The butt of the joke and feelings are hurt. Tears streamed down the face. A sniff. A small hand is pulled towards an eye, in a fist. Rub. Lips are licked. There is a salty taste. Sniff. A tissue is found. Sniff. Skinny. Gangly. Two sticks. An icicle. Drip. It melts and falls. Blood.