Saturday, February 11, 2012

under a certain little star

between the coffee palpitations and the increased gastroparesis, between the hyperventilation, tachycardia and increased blood pressure, i find peace

running late at night is so enchanting. you feel like every streetlight is your closest friend; every car like a curious dog. the fleeting, ever-changing lines of silvery, aubergine, aquamarine, maroon saloons sail by on the gray seas; the moonlight glancing off their flanks. my favourite places in the universe are lighted up like a lighthouse, calling boats to dock, calling people to put down their anchors, trim their sails, and turn their rudders in the right direction.

while i definitely will be putting all my faith in the right places, i've been concurrently making concrete plans as well. not because i don't trust, but quite the opposite: because my trust is so absolute, i don't want to let Him down with my human follibles.

a) run every morning - seeing as i have spent the past few days lazing around the house like a narcoleptic slug....  when i run, i have all this YES I CAN DO THIS YAHOO GO GO GO!! you are invincible! you can run forever and beat all odds! you can turn everything to your advantage, you can negotiate for world peace and succeed!!  .... you get the idea. wahaha.
b) build a brick wall
i love the feeling of building the case, making it watertight, fireproof, idiotproof, tornado-safe
c) poetry - it awakens the left hemisphere of the mind

and thus

Under a Certain Little Star    
by Wislawa Szymborska
translated by Joanna Trzeciak 

My apologies to chance for calling it necessity.
My apologies to necessity in case I'm mistaken.
Don't be angry, happiness, that I take you for my own. 
My apologies to time for the quantity of world overlooked per second.
My apologies to an old love for treating a new one as the first. 
My apologies for the minuet record, to those calling out from the abyss.
My apologies to those in train stations for sleeping soundly at five in the morning.
Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing sometimes.
Pardon me, deserts, for not rushing in with a spoonful of water.
And you, O hawk, the same bird for years in the same cage,
staring, motionless, always at the same spot,
absolve me even if you happen to be stuffed.
My apologies to the tree felled for four table legs.
My apologies to large questions for small answers.
Truth, do not pay me too much attention.
Solemnity, be magnanimous toward me.
Bear with me, O mystery of being, for pulling threads from your veil.
Soul, don't blame me that I've got you so seldom.
My apologies to everything that I can't be everywhere.
My apologies to all for not knowing how to be every man and woman.
I know that as long as I live nothing can excuse me,
since I am my own obstacle.

Do not hold it against me, O speech, that I borrow weighty words,
and then labor to make them light. 

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