State of Being 1
State of Being
I’m humming along, minding someone else’s business no doubt, giving little attention to my own state of being. And it slides in, a message slipped under the door saying, “Here I come. Are you ready?” But of course I never am, or, in truth, I always am.
I know… I’ll go to the airport and buy a ticket to Las Vegas.
Gamble, that’s what I want to do. I‘ll buy a Cadillac when I get there. Driving very fast will be great fun. I do love blackjack, don’t you? There’s a Rolex and a fat gold ring with diamonds that I really must have. I’m okay. The last time I gambled I didn’t lose my house. Pizza! I need pizza! Hey, drinks for everyone. Sleep? Oh no… there’s far too much to do. What color do you want to paint the kitchen? I’m going to write a novel like Jack Kerouac on a roll of paper towels. Where are the paper towels? That woman over there wearing the red dress... I’m sure she knows that being in bed with me is the best thing that will happen to her this year. More pizza? No, I had some yesterday, or was it the day before? Besides that, who has time to eat? What, I’m talking so very fast that you can’t understand what I’m saying, and that it doesn’t make sense anyway so it doesn’t matter? You’re just not listening, and I don’t care anyway. No, I’m not tired…
•••
The trick is to vibrate just enough and no more, to feel the edge, perhaps even touch it for a minute or two, pull back before there’s blood.
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