Friday, February 18, 2005
I'm retreating.
I think I've been retreating my whole life.
Only now its formal.
Now I sit cross-legged with my eyes half closed, surrounded by strangers in a tiny red room that's a little too hot, and I stay real quiet and try to pretend I'm thinking about my breath and not thinking about sex.
| Back then I would just find an empty room on the 13th floor. All alone. I'd sit at a desk in the corner, stare out the window on the world, and think about God and the Devil and pretend I was them. Either one. Didn't matter much. And I used to sit there on that cold, tiled, basement floor with the waves crashing down on the wallpaper walls and I'd listen to Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen speak to me about life. Now I try to chase tantric prayers, and I don't know if they really speak to me at all. Now its got a name. Now you know when it starts and ends. Back then it would end when my feet got tired of walking or when the midnight rains would begin to fall. Or when I finally got tired of being alone. But that didn't happen much. |  |
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