It is without doubt that we are conscious beings with an infinite splatter of conclusions spread out across our minds…… all which are perfectly believable within its particular shade of time. We live in wayward times, perhaps all times are wayward. Time demands an observer, without it, it can not live, without it, we can not live. Time appears to be much bigger than i and very demanding of my time, my consciousness, my observations, awareness, numbness, most - maybe all of me. Then i find myself without, it, time. When it reappears, what i feel i experienced no longer exists without its nurturing nature of thinking itself into being. Time, funny thing, can't do without it and yet you must let it go… at one time or another.
This time fell down along side of me as i was being still, watching the world roll along. There were variants attempting to exist in the minds along the shore. Streets were filled with armies, characters reflected from a bunch of movies skating thru the haze, boulevards stacked with dreams hundreds of stories high. There was a fight over lightning speed digital data flying thru the air, streams of moving images stored in bundles of magnetic time, love on the outside distorted in the waves of high tech splendour and time shuffling about for a new moment to live.
I had nothing better to do than ponder over this wayward time with a soft truck escaping down some lane way full of stuff. I pulled up to a trans mission of some sort and wandered thru the scenes for a while before i took my self off the radar altar, completely, headed on… met a few travellers escaping to nowhere and content within, moving. By the time i settled into a space where i could feel being-complete, the whole damn thing erupted again and i was back out on the streets with thin time driving that same disturbed truck full of shite to a new dump site.
I heard the popular news today, 'Big News' it said, fierce fires forcing thousands homeless, what's your favourite condiment in your fridge… get rid of the rest that is taking up that precious space, climate change devastation for penguins this year…. could be the end of them if things continue, unfortunate insurance rates skyrocketing over world fire hot spot climate change, pile up out on highway 61… 3 dead many injured, figure skating world championship finals disputed over drug use. Time flew over the south east in a storm heading for the coast by tomorrow…. left numerous dead. More news in detail on your local channel…. back to condiments, 'which one did you rate high, above all others, which precious one did you keep'?
I said i wouldn't entertain any more mandates, of anything.(period) Time is always sticking its claws into my business, demanding full exposure, transparency, control. I once held a flashlight into a dark night without any thought about what i was doin. The light was so bright and yet i could see nothing, nothing but black blackness. I supposed there was nothing there and i was proven to be right… by the time light returned i was light-years long gone and there was absolutely no trace that i had ever been there, perhaps i wasn't. That is the way time works, always shifting the umbrella to its advantage, caressing the moments with continuity, coincidence and more of itself. No room for death to reappear dead, that's life here, with time on our side. Time, my hero, my saviour, my life.
A simple coffee
WeyWord Times / All Writing and Images by Patrick Wey
Hang Me Up Somewhere…. Images
This realm with its lure and play and deceit of time is indeed tricksy and disorientating, and the more I see, the more I know, the more I don't know....but it's all a game, we are here but not here, in it but not of it, it's a strange existence, searching for the connections underneath the distractions. I do enjoy muchly your surreal explorations, they enter that liminal space I enjoy exploring the most.
a tool that I am, to be used for I am not able to recognize what I am...or even that I am.