Rumors of my death have been somewhat exaggerated. This life is too busy, too fast. Not enough deep breaths, not enough thank yous. A moment, late at night, in between eight writing projects and three jobs, six picture posts, a hundred pieces of correspondence, two extremely late international packages – and yet still a paltry regimen compared with some of my *really* productive friends. How do they do it, and how does it affect our legacy? How will it be recorded, not here. Not here, because this is just a trickle. If it’s not expressing, it’s complaining, and that judgment looms over me, self-imposed, like a fucking harpy. Obsessed with time. Obsessed with not having enough of it.

If you fear transition to your other life
Don’t need money to be there
Leave behind your money just to prove your worth
Won’t be here so I don’t care
If you strap your conscience to your vision thing
Won’t be here so I don’t care
Prove your worth to people that you called your friends
Won’t be here so I don’t care

And yet WE SLOW IT with wine, with books, with hugs and furtive glances into each other’s soft, welling eyes. With gentle, biting kisses on each other’s lower lips, with sifting through the clay-filled mud, looking for rusty bits of metal. With wondering how it might have been, in every sense of the words. WE SLOW IT with adventurous plans for the future, and laughs like hyenas recalling follies of the past. Proudly thrusting forth a century-old book, smelling tobacco still on its pages, feeling texture no longer made and trying vainly to decipher old names long dead…in beautiful script, like my grandmother’s, still alive. WE SLOW IT with sexual fantasy, with sensual pageantry, and looking forward to dried apricots and chilled Chardonnay when summer arrives. Projects to keep you busy and projects that must be done, both of which make you feel like you’re important, but it’s never really your projects that define you – it’s the act of doing them that simply keeps you alive. So give me three more lives, because I’ll fill them up in a second.

And this is just one more of those projects, one that I neglect more than I should. I read plenty about you but I rarely write about me. Not about me. Lots of tip-toeing out of fear, censoring out of timidity, prevaricating out of decency, and textual riddles to somehow feel more complex. That’s all. But it’s a SLOW DOWN kind of night, already over and breaking into tomorrow, and we all feel this way, and know that it’s just a part of life. Oh, it’ll come out, and then we might regret it, or maybe not.

There’s more to tell.

13 Responses to “Frantexpressions.”

  1. hermiston Says:
    February 26th, 2007 at 3:43 am

    We leave a trail that's always changed, you keep your hopes alive.
    This surface may seem calm enough but underneath, underneath…

  2. FunkyPlaid Says:
    February 26th, 2007 at 9:38 am

    Oh, I've changed.

  3. podle Says:
    February 26th, 2007 at 2:54 pm

    I hope there's always more to tell and that I get to hear it. Yes yes yes to slowing down. Its so hard in this life to be and do and see everything and its so damn tough to not get pulled into a million pieces by all the demands and wants and desires. So much of what you've written here rings true for me as well. Yes to chardonnay and apricots and kisses and all those wonderful earthbound joys.

  4. FunkyPlaid Says:
    February 27th, 2007 at 12:07 pm

    I know you also feel that it's a curse to be interested, meta-cogged, and hungry hungry for experience. Too much, too fast sometimes. Forget how to unplug.

  5. podle Says:
    February 26th, 2007 at 2:54 pm

    p.s. to regret I say, "fooey."

  6. niddrie_edge Says:
    February 26th, 2007 at 4:52 pm

    Only today I exclaimed to a friend that , " the present is too fast for me". Too refined.
    I demand the space to meditate. It's as essential a function as breathing. Thats what it is.

  7. niddrie_edge Says:
    February 26th, 2007 at 4:56 pm

    And as for "it"…. <a href="” target=”_blank”>

  8. FunkyPlaid Says:
    February 27th, 2007 at 12:12 pm

    And how.
    Meditation, for me, is an impossibility. I'm far too focused on tasks to even consider putting the time into doing nothing. Even if it's more 'something' than all of those tasks put together. Damnit.

  9. niddrie_edge Says:
    February 27th, 2007 at 1:20 pm

    Each to their own.
    Your meditation may be to face the tasks.
    That's where you are.
    My big lessons are in the midst of bearing the weight of caring when there's no way out. Thats the real me there open, vulnerable, sensitive, strong.
    I think of bamboo bending in the wind. Or the willow.

  10. lachlain Says:
    February 27th, 2007 at 12:20 am

    Good evening good sir. I was wondering if I might steal a moment of your time to pick your brain on a variety of topics.

  11. FunkyPlaid Says:
    February 27th, 2007 at 1:44 am

    You never have to ask. How would you like to be in contact?

  12. lachlain Says:
    February 27th, 2007 at 11:56 am

    I was wondering if you were free this weekend for a couple of hours. I was contemplating a trek down to your neck of the woods if it is convenient for you and yours.

  13. FunkyPlaid Says:
    February 27th, 2007 at 12:04 pm

    Mail me at funkyplaid at mac dot com?

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