Wednesday, May 16, 2012


I. Swim at night. Go deep down. Turn your body in the water until you forget which way is up or down and there is no light to guide you.

II. Live in books. There are more demeaning hiding spots. Here you will find elegant words, a reliable narrator which Life sorely lacks.

III. Live in photographs. Sit neatly framed. You were made for love.

IV. Paint your body with pollen. Let the birds of sorrow nest in your hair. Nevermind those Chinese proverbs-- they do not know the loneliness of windowless brick buildings. Any bird is feathered so that air may swell beneath it. So that their hollow bones are kissed. So that they may be lifted.

V. Entertain lustful thoughts of painters long dead.

VI. Sneak onto golf greens at the witching hour. Lie under trees, lie by lakes whose reeds hide dapper geese all night honking. A lightning storm blooms here and there, in gold and pink flowers. Drink from the bottle and know that you are in exactly the wrong place. Across the lake, across the greens, behind the trees a ghost train rushes by. And then slowly returns, moving backwards.

VII. Entertain lustful thoughts of people you do not lust after. Ask why your lust is so discerning when your sadness is not.

VIII. Go to museums and walk up to the most famous works but do not look at them. Instead, watch the faces of other people as they come to look. Maybe they shrug and keep moving, maybe some nuanced light passes over them and you get to witness the thing that never seems to come: change.

IX. Watch a lot of movies until you have an approximate idea of who is screenwriting your life. Phone in your complaints to the producers. The mise-en-scene is depressing. The lines are garish. I should have been a painter now I have given all my words away.

X. Sit and wait for Venus to cross the path of the sun.

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