BEING ALIVE

I just watched the Marriage Story. It’s a story about disentangling but so much of the dialogue leads us to the question of what it means to be alive. And not just alive. Alive with others. With a particular other. A significant other. The crescendo is of course Adam Driver (wolf of a man) singing that Patti Lupone song “Being Alive” on the verge of tears at each new stanza and yet not quite breaking down. Maybe that’s what it means to be alive after all.

There have been such movements in 2019 inwardly and outwardly. And in those movements was the mad demonic rush of a girl and a world trying not to feel, trying simply to lose themselves in the revolutions upon axis. But being alive is not so simple as the state of not being dead, momentum be damned. I chase money and feel emptier still. The illusions and escapism never worked for me as they do for most and it has always made alien, the constant observer. All that poetry in youth is harmful. And of course, there are the twinges of heartbreak to keep you alert. To put you in the kind of discomfort that is somewhat necessary for living. That doesn’t allow you a mere indifference that the nearly-alive have in their many-splendoured illusions. Pain gives us access to reality in a way that happiness never could,

Naturally I fetishize the thing that allows to me to write because what lover doesn’t find the faults of her beloved beautiful. The marks that scar a god and bring him closer to earth. But pain isn’t all there is. For the insomnia, I’ve taken up evening jogs on a large field where the grass always has the smell of being freshly cut. In lieu of that, night walks where you can smell the delicate melting spices of roadside eateries. But also reading snippets of lines under tall looming trees. In short there is aliveness.

I chose a large tree last week just ahead of the hockey players and sat under it at dusk to read the translation of “Aquellos Ojos Verdes”. Those eyes with their look of calm which leave in my soul the eternal thirst of love. Of course there is aliveness in being alive! Its always there, the potential of it erotic almost. And there is always Titus ready with adventure.

There are days of many kindnesses and with luck, the opportunity to repay it. The breathing in and out. I think aliveness is the capacity to forget. The dying of your yesterday self. The capacity to move forward in  a straight line, though I prefer going around in circles.

The days pass fast and slow.

Someone to hold me too close.
Someone to hurt me too deep.
Someone to sit in my chair,
And ruin my sleep,
And make me aware,
Of being alive.
Being alive.

Somebody need me too much.
Somebody know me too well.
Somebody pull me up short,
And put me through hell,
And give me support,
For being alive.
Make me alive.
Make me alive.

Make me confused.
Mock me with praise.
Let me be used.
Vary my days.

But alone,
Is alone,
Not alive.

Somebody crowd me with love.
Somebody force me to care.
Somebody let me come through,
I’ll always be there,
As frightened as you,
To help us survive,
Being alive.
Being alive.
Being alive!

NAIROBI

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