The Flight of the Rocketman

He was enjoying what he was doing.
The look was one of pure rapture.
-- Adolescence, Frank Bidart

I was about to say, that again, somehow, I take as many steps back as I take steps forward. I did a nasty thing and it was voluntary and wasn't at all spur of the moment. It was tempered by time. I could've stopped myself at any moment, stopped it from happening. But I let it go. I let it happen.

But as I write these things, I wonder if some people read it and think it is them that I am talking about. I wonder who exactly reads my journal and if any people who have graced through this blog (albeit, anonymously) realise that it is them I am talking about. Or are there people who look here and think, "Oh my God? He's talking about me, isn't he?"

The points of reference is blurred by the vagueness of my writing. As much as I would like to name the names, they are not my names to just say and blurt out. This is my journal, not theirs.

A while ago, I watched Fight Club and forgot how good it was. Everytime I watch that movie, I feel like someone just punched me in the gut. It is so real despite the surreality of the fiction. The emotion, the passion is very real to me. The need to release, to let go, to relax. The need to find some sort of freedom. To get away from the restrictions of society, a society, mind you, that I love so well and so badly feel like I need to adhere to. And Brad Pitt is such a good actor. God! How I need Tyler Durden come into my life and beat me into a bloody pulp.

And if Fight Club was real, would I have joined? Damn right, I would be there. I'd be there once every two weeks, throwing punches, kicking with all my might. Would I have won? That isn't the point. I'm letting go, I'm letting lose. I wouldn't have joined all that anarchic fanaticism. That's not my style. But getting in that circle for the single moment of freedom, of disregard would be bliss. A different kind of bliss.

It would have been great, though, to watch all those credit card companies lose their records. Let everyone start from scratch. It's not fair to them, they earned their money fair and square. We borrowed and we must pay. But at this point in the game, if the house always wins, we better pack our bags, hold on to whatever little we are left with and move on to the next place.

Give me a one way ticket to the next phase of my life, please. I'll sit on the aisle seat of the sixth row. I'll adjust the airconditioner vents so that they are not directed towards me. I'll take out my book and read 3 chapters on the way. And then, I'll tilt the seat and fall asleep. When I wake up, I want to be well rested and 20 minutes away from my destination.

I want to be there and I want to get there well-rested yet awake.

We fill pre-existing forms and when we fill them we change them and are changed.

Everything in art is a formal question, so he tried to do it in prose with much blank white space.
-- Borges and I, Frank Bidart