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| Photos courtesy of Micha Hamilton |
2nd Monologue for FLIGHT
June 20th, Pierro Gallery of South Orange, 2013
I am Art. First name terms. No need for formality here.
Comedian? Poet? Person of interest? Ambivalent? Yes. Confused? Emphatically. No question. Clear as day. No doubt about it. Are you with me? Why? Why are you with me? Trying to follow my thinking? Your time your dime.
I’m rude. My time is never well spent. I resist Blue Chip. I’m wary of the high minded, resist sincerity on some level. That whole thing of just being here, surviving—getting the work, getting the work done, cutting the lawn, Costcos...shop, clean, oil change. Change. We all have to embrace it in the end.
Food. Shelter. Toys. Electronic toys. Organic. Going green. Being green. Exploding imploding. Steam valve and kettles. Tea.
The energy to resist the hinderers, encourage the bright. Dreams essential. Optimists THAT crucial. There in the Constitution. The pursuit of happiness. Apparently a special people. More special than others. Do you think you are special? I mean I hope you do. That is healthy...right? But not more special. Not superior. The living for each day/worrying about the future thing. Dealing with matters of immediate import, grass root issues, community stuff, civic sphere and such. Community stiffs. Forums, hearings, meetings. Hearing the world laughing and screaming in every corner of every square.
Paying the bills not paying the bills. Staying safe and secure. Clutching an umbrella every time you step out of the door —just in case.
Prepared for every eventuality, wrapped in bubble, ready with the duct tape, un-scratchable.
Or go naked and vulnerable, and open and calm, palms out, receptive.
The gear can help, the right equipment—maybe first aid kit is not over the top, maybe justified, maybe some gorp, pocket warmers, tent. Sleep is worth protecting encouraging aiding and abetting with a pad a bag...gaz cooker boots. Motor generator propeller wheels and gears, night vision goggles.
Collect feathers basic technology pencil fork and knife. With this and that sow, knit, hammer, cobble together a way forward into adventure and the unknown with all the trials and tribulation and fun and weather fronts and storms and mystery. Journey walk through the rain and fog.
So we put on our wings. That is the thing about independence, being able to get up and stare into the center of the sun and go. Not dependent on airlines and schedules and trains with age-ing rails. A bit of running away from but mostly a going forth, running toward brinks and cliffs and into valleys and oceans, old stations and warehouses and factories. Sand farms with all those fascinating rusting machines. Hard to pin down that thing I’m running towards. Convinced getting there will be great but crucial I do not stop, you do not stop, we do not stop. By all means dilly dally, poke in the bushes with a stick, find bits of colored glass—for a bit. Curiosity is okay, alright, just dandy in my book.
Meditate, find your inner chi do a mantra then get up again and keep moving. By all means relax and gather strength. Stop to pick an apple, dig for truffles.
I’ve been planning this for so long but despite this it feels out of control and beyond my ken, my area of expertise but who wants experts here? Instructions blurring my vision, serailing my intent. Dot the “I”s cross the “T”s—done the formwork, the signatures, local auditor content, magistrate’s signed off. Notary public smiled and offered me a lollipop.
The insurmountable still not surmounted, kitchen cleaned, fence mended except for the latch. Been planning this trip for a while, a trip we might all enjoy. Some prefer water some land. All can come. If you have special needs just let us know.
Some’ll go by balloon or kite, some’ll go by camel. Surf or skateboard, motorbike. The dignity of walking, the cool lope, the meandering slide. The getting there faster not the point, the getting there at all...not necessarily the point. Not not the point but not the point if you get me. The thing of stopping is problematic. You don’t want to grind to a halt...not before you are ready. Slowly and thoughtfully but overthinking, fear, resistance??? The mania of civilization speeding willy nilly not forward or back but every which way?
Where there is. The there is elusive.
Different name for each of us, different feel, texture, different dimensions, big to some, small to others and go we must. I’m looking forward to it, pretty excited. I’ve oiled the engine, P and B sandwiches packed. Keep notes. You did keep notes? I’ve tightened bolts and screws, gone down my list and I’m going to go. Its not dramatic. Nothing dramatic. Pretty straightforward really. Matter of fact, mundane almost. Tiny in the big scope of things. Not unusual, not that rare, not unique. No. Unique. Different for each of us right.
Maybe see you there.
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