Sip, pour, lavish

But I couldn't care for the history, when I've got you in front of me.

The loose fabric of your jeans slide and swish, slide and swish. Steps forward, swinging back, and spring ahead. This rhythmic, erratic dance playing out repeatedly. All these moments catch my glance, my imaginative eye plays with the feeling as it rushes through the neurons in my brain like silvery fish swimming through a weedy current... the light flashing off their sparkling diamond scales....What? Huh? Is this what it is like? Huh?

Sometimes, I wonder how often I get caught up in playing the other. Spending time with the chronically disabled is quite dangerous for someone like that. But also quite intriguing. I find I naturally achieve pleasure in experiencing the absurd; unfurling and immersing myself in all the pages of an encyclopedia of the grotesque, the insufferable, the bizarre...it never seems to run out of entries...

Now immersed in the world of a child with autism...that is an exciting new world. What makes a child autistic? What makes a child not autistic? Is it their brain? Is it their persona? Is it something they ate? Endless fascination. And to see them emerge from their own world and become a part of our own space is intriguing as well. How? I participate in the change but I do not know where it originates.

The desire to understand is such a dangerous thing. Too easy, too easy. It is the other side on a coin made of disinterest and apathy. Dull and unremarkable in its own way, an endless, unquenchable meaningless that struggles to deceive itself and spread passionate, empty seeds throughout every generation.


And here I sit, 10 minutes to write out words born from fleeting emotions wrapped around the simple sensations currently occupying my attention...