12.04.2002

I actually overheard some man in a coffee shop reply to the question, "what are you doing now:"

"Still doing Yoga and Meditation. I'm also studying photography. Somewhat like what you do, except static."

The person he was talking to: Baby boomer with an expensive laptop plus a handheld electronic device I couldn't identify.
This is not invented, this is reality. These people do exist.

Thank God we have another artist to snap more photos of his latest yuppie corduroy-wearing concubine. More shots of immigrant workers at health food stores, summits from small mountains, flowers, bearded men donning hats in the lotus position.

I have to write this down now.
Before it fades.
I put my laundry in the dryer for 29 minutes. That was ten minutes ago.
I will not waste time proofing the thoughts as they come out.

The person represented as ANdrew Giambrone experienced a breakthrough of immense proportions less than one hour ago. This matter isn't really serious, but if I don't pretend that it is, then I can easily justify not writing it down. It needs to be said:

Parked. Seated in truck. Laundry on passenger seat. On the approach, I was contemplating blowing out my brains. It wouldn't be frightful, I suppose. Put the gun up to my head, pull trigger, brains splatter against driver side window. ANdrew is dead. I felt no fear. One moment alive, instant death.

existence does not equal.

It hits me like a ton of bricks, seconds later the car is off and I am virtually paralyzed. The Terror associated with not existing--this. These thoughts. This person. Null. Not just nothing. not Nothing like a starless sky. not Nothing like an empty wallet. not Nothing like knowledge of women.

Not nothing. But Not being. cease.

Not fear crossed in and out of my mind. Not terror, horror, dread. Dreaded un existence.

Everyone has felt this before: The unknown? How can I utterly cease to exist forever, for all eternity. When the universe, when all matter when everything is absolutely no longer in existence. Neither will I exist. I will remain in this state forever. There is no escape.

Then it fades, as the wall of who knows is built back up. Religion doesn't protect me. Just straight up denial. The feeling has faded, it's not happening now. It will happen. Fine. So be it. I got laundry to do.

But I'm still sitting motionless. I remember the multitudes of occasions in my past when this feeling has struck me. I imagine my deathbed. Will this feeling strike again. Will it haunt me as I near death. My every organ sinking uncontrollably--my heart immobile as my mind. Does it happen by chance? Or can I replicate it?

I make an attempt to break through the natural wall of denial....

I imagine the gun to my head: no not so bad. still no fear.

step back, the voice, my consciousness. Eradicated. Existence. Ceasing.

it hits again. sinking sinking sunken hope. Why the delay, life is a reprieve from an eternity of void. I feel it as intensely as every emotion up to this point in my life. I have fabricated this doom. Cosmic awareness. Nirvana. They pale in comparison. Meaningless that those are flitting, this is eternal. Why not just die now? I don't ever want to feel that again? I can't think of any reas......

The wall returns. No problem. Death. No big deal.

I grab my laundry basket from the passenger seat. Into the laudromat I go.

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12.01.2002

Quick results? So you can return to what? A life of fruitless drudgery.
Art for its own sake.
30 years of art. We should all be lucky enough to enjoy such a reprieval.

At least my effort only required ten minutes.

Rather produce quick results than years of fruitless drudgery.

Sans absolutes, how can you say the fruit of your labor is superior to anything?
Who is the omniscient judge?

The product of ten minutes of my labor is superior to 30 years of yours.