Keeping my access to the internet as light as possible over the next couple of weeks reminds me of the famous Kurt Vonnegut story "Harrison Bergeron" about a man who has been weighted down against his full potential so that society is more balanced. Eventually Harrison breaks from his chains.
I feel like our dependency on machinery and social networking is doing essentially the same thing to all of us. It's funny when satire aligns. Although in a society as richly detailed and nuanced as America or the rest of the world somewhere our strange predictions tend to line up properly if not exactly regardless of our efforts to push them there. Perhaps it's just the osmosis of god crafting the universe out of our dreams reflected in our arts.
The older I get I realize that the human psyche, or perhaps just mine, is like its own organism almost separate from my body experiencing the world outside of itself. This blog, my poetry, my writing experiences, my lifestyle, so far when I pause and stop the momentum of my brain it separates in a serene void of endless reflections I can pick apart ad nauseam. This experience used to sicken me to dizziness but now I find it an exhilarating ride to pick apart my own mind in this way.
The thrill of life has deadened somewhat inside me to a point I cannot explain anymore. I've felt and done quite a lot and can remember almost all of it. Life in the thick of things can be like a gross sisyphean ouroboros task. We're constantly working with no goal or purpose in mind hoping that at some moment in time you'll be able to reflect and then eventually die looking back on a life as ghastly full of memory as an old storage shed where you can say yes . . . I did that thing, kissed that girl, saw that band, ate that dish, viewed that piece of art with my naked eyes, wrote that poem, danced until my feet bled, I was alive . . . but our fear at the end of it all will still be that it wasn't enough.
I'm spending this month dealing with social media and my need to be noticed as little as possible despite still being pulled back here and there.
You are alive now. There is no no past, there is no present, there isn't even this moment, there are only the moments in between that fold deep into your psyche and section you off to be the person you are which is just a moment in time for someone else.
And I hope that moment you become yourself makes someone else happy and in turn they return the favor. After all that is what love really is isn't it? Love is just by nature someone noticing the beauty in you that you cannot notice yourself and you noticing the beauty in them that they cannot see themselves. That's all love really is.
Do you remember the last time you kissed someone and it made your soul float?
Or are you so old now that those moments are just mysteries to you faded away beyond memory to a place of bitter nostalgia for the days when you were slightly younger but always forgetting how ignorant you really were back then?
I would not do this life over. I would only try to do it better now going forward and perhaps slower for my health.
Who is Daniel Louis Krone . . . simply the reflections of other people's perception of him. He is really nothing more than a shadow of a full connection he may never understand even though he's certain he once did.
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