I haven't posted on this blog in over a year. Where does the time go? Have I time traveled or is it possible I experienced every moment from there to here? Perhaps i was abducted by aliens during a massive flash of light on some St. Hallows Eve and my abductors neglected to return me from whence I came. It's all the same to them. What is time when you've the ability to move through its folds and toy with its elasticity? Nothing more than an experiment, I suppose.
I'm still the same as I was, as I've always been. My skin perhaps isn't as tight and my ass may have swelled and shrank with the ebbs and flows of scenic work and tempura rolls. I may have moved through numerous cycles of pain that have continued to carve the crevasse between my eyebrows. I am still me. My name has not changed. My cells continue to duplicate and replicate in order to move me closer to death.
More of my loved ones are dead.
This doesn't mean I understand death any more than I did before. I could even say that I understand it less. Though I do feel certain that death is a passage and not a wall, a hole, or a void- I feel no comfort there.
I find comfort in knowing I don't want to die slowly. I do not want to emaciate until there's nothing left but bones and breath. To go quickly, that is a true gift. To crash and blink, to seize and collapse, to slip silently in the night; if only we could all be so lucky. I will never get the image of slow death out of my head. I have never seen something so horrifying. It has changed me at a cellular level, and now I am stripped to the basics. My life is reduced to a series of flashes, some of which bring me to my knees with my chin to my chest.
And now, as I sit in an apartment in Berlin, I attempt to travel into the future without moving a muscle, and materialize my wildest dreams at a modest budget. I continue to make mistakes, but without mistakes, life never would have figured itself out in those bubbling toxic pools some 3.9billion years ago. So, as I move accidentally through a series of events and activities that make up my life, I do what I can to make it with purpose.
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| "Putting Money on the Moon" collage. Hailey Gaiser 2012 |
More of my loved ones are dead.
This doesn't mean I understand death any more than I did before. I could even say that I understand it less. Though I do feel certain that death is a passage and not a wall, a hole, or a void- I feel no comfort there.
I find comfort in knowing I don't want to die slowly. I do not want to emaciate until there's nothing left but bones and breath. To go quickly, that is a true gift. To crash and blink, to seize and collapse, to slip silently in the night; if only we could all be so lucky. I will never get the image of slow death out of my head. I have never seen something so horrifying. It has changed me at a cellular level, and now I am stripped to the basics. My life is reduced to a series of flashes, some of which bring me to my knees with my chin to my chest.
And now, as I sit in an apartment in Berlin, I attempt to travel into the future without moving a muscle, and materialize my wildest dreams at a modest budget. I continue to make mistakes, but without mistakes, life never would have figured itself out in those bubbling toxic pools some 3.9billion years ago. So, as I move accidentally through a series of events and activities that make up my life, I do what I can to make it with purpose.
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