January 23, 2007

I know I can start over

I decided to close my eyes and pretend that I was blind for a while. It really felt a lot better. I got much happier. I picked up my paper cup of hot coffee and took a sip, carefully, which was unusual. I put it back down, perfectly. No problem. That's all I did, and what I thought about for a couple of minutes.

It was like a vacation. It was what I imagine a vacation would be like for someone with a lot of money who needed relief and bought it with cash. Then I opened my eyes for second and saw, but it sucked. I was surrounded by sobriety, cheerless and dejected, and there were all these other people there with dumb haircuts and inexpensive, poorly-made jeans. I went blind again, and was surrounded by my kids. And then the other people on the airplane with me were like kids too. And children just do their thing.

I picked my nose; I just didn't give a fuck (which was nice). Who cares what kind of shit I may have in my hair? Eyes open again. No. Eyes closed. Yes. Settled on a path of real work and accomplishment, feeling and knowing things for what they really are, and liberated, I guess you would say, from vanity, and the creeping pressure of high expectations and unquestionably harsh judgment. Be cool. What am I wearing? I'm cool. I'm blind now, I can't be held responsible.

I begin with nothing, and reconcile my seat in this new blind life as if, for the first time, I were an adventurer and not an investor. And it feels good. I know I can start over.