White Doves in a Chinese Restaurant

It was one of those bored, ecstatic nights
Sitting in the bar of a Chinese restaurant
Balls in high spirits, belting, "I'm forever
Blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air,
They fly so high, nearly reach the sky,
Then like my dreams they fade and die."
That's when I spotted the two of them
(The city from a distance at night)
Teenagers dropped off for gentle courtship
(The city is ablaze for me, and I stare).

Lo mein, and oh, man
His eyes how wide and filled with longing
She fixed a hair that wasn't out of place
They sighed with heartbreaking seriousness
The utter casualness of it!
(Innocence, how strange)
All fidgets and smiles and conventional wisdom
They're flamingos! They're a poem!

I saw visions of ghostly neon lights just then,
A Ferris wheel beneath the dharma red of dusk
Silhouetting a backdrop of sawdust and pearls
Swimming in my scorpion bowl, as red...
As red as love and Spanish mysteries
And I smiled because they had no idea
They were the heroes of this unbearably sweet night.

On Losing Yourself (Instructions Only)

Recently, I rekindled
A favorite band -
"Well, I am an idiot walking
A tightrope of fortune and fame."
I happened across old cds
Like those Grateful Dead records
people put aside to collect dust.
"I am an acrobat swinging trapezes
through circles of flame."

You know how it feels sometimes?
In order to lose yourself, you give yourself
To an explorer of the unseen.
"If you've never stared off into the distance,
Then your life is a shame."
Who coaxes music forth from which
He alone has access, and brings
It into shine in the firmament of your world.
"And though I'll never forget your face,
sometimes I can't remember my name."

When not even whiskey will make
you lose yourself tonight.
"So I gave up my seat at the bar
and I head for the door."
You just want to get lost
in this crazy dustbowl of stars
And know tomorrow will be better
But -
"The price of a memory is the
memory of the sorrow it brings."

Dear Diary (the I kinda think I'm not crazy edition),

Last night I was reading an article on free will to get me through a mild case of post-holiday depression (Mind you, this all may be due to increased levels of dopamine, which I diagnosed in myself many years ago). Midway through reading the article on free will, I asked myself why I was reading an article on free will. The irony hit me between the eyes like a sack of bricks.

I decided to stop reading, and I flipped on the television. “Groundhog Day” was on TBS, which was fortunate for me because I’m a member of the unofficial Bill Murray fan club. I caught the last 20 minutes. That lifted my spirits moderately. You know, happy ending and all. As I was planning my next move, the thought occurred to me that I could be knitting sweaters for the homeless at that moment.

“You’re relatively well off. Why are you doting on yourself? Think of someone less fortunate. Maybe you should be knitting sweaters for the homeless.”

“Dude, if all our minds were preoccupied with people less fortunate, nothing would get done, and we’d all be homeless. Your charity will be delivered fitly. Just trust your intuition, man.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Your intuition is infallible. Don’t doubt it, bitch.”

“You can really be an arrogant bastard.”

“I won’t apologize for that.”

This conversation carried on with myself until I fell asleep. I hadn’t thought I was schizophrenic…

It seems the more reasonably I try to act, the more unpredictable I am to myself.

This morning I finished the free will article.