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{addicted to living} paul adrian mabelis If I were to list out the dreams, I would not exclude a hiking excursion with my son to the top of Mt. Desolation, not because we knew how to climb mountains or enjoyed doing so, but because I wanted to teach him a thing or two about god's grace and what it was like to come down from a great height once you've reached it. I want to say, "look, I found…" a video of his first attempts at walking, then point out each time he falls, and say, "see son, it happens a lot, that's life, but you get up from it". I want to tell him, when a man reaches the top of a mountain, he must keep climbing. I want to travel back in time to be at one of his birthday celebrations I missed, just to say I was there, because I was, because I meant to be but was not allowed. I want to be at his birth when he is reborn. I want to see him baptized. I want to baptize myself in sunlight, fall backwards into the brightness of a dying star. * I want to orchestrate an improvisational harmonica riff in front of a mob of drunken blues aficionados too drunk to realize my notes were wrong but broken down enough to notice the passion in my breathing, the slow bark of my aching voice. I want to walk across the whole country to the ocean, just to give my feet a rest. I want to rush past Armageddon into my lover's arms just to tell her I told her so, we would always be together, I would never let go. & I would tell god if he had something on the front of his shirt, helping a brother out, "hey you got something there". I would tell him he had something on the front of his shirt even when he didn't, laugh and then say, "haha made you look". I would tell my son if he ever had to disobey me, so be it, but at least listen to what I have to say. Life isn't about an archery match, all men going for the same target, it was survival, shoot to kill, each prey different to the each of us, all of us in some way born starving for it, the success of finding what you sought after, the entry point into the safe zone of good results after taking a risk. * I would jog out into the middle of a giant cornfield just to know why they called it maize. I would apologize to the Indian gods we don't believe in for the annihilation of those who did and I would feel guilty for calling the end of the season an Indian summer. I would read the whole bible just so I wouldn't have to lie anymore about the fact that I did. I would not prioritize my bucket list for anybody but the monopoly man, his black suited self knowing when it was my turn, knowing everything I landed on in the game of life depended on nothing more than a roll of the dice. * I would replace the artistic emoticon on myspace so that it did not spin, so that, artistic meant some sort of stability. I would quote Basho "Sick on a journey – over parched fields dreams wander on." writing it on the liberty pole in the center of our city, I would deliver a sandwich to the homeless man sleeping beneath it. Tell him about the 15% gratuity on the actual retail cost of aforementioned sandwich, then laugh when he believes me, shake his hand and walk away. I would find the parents of the homeless man I saw decapitated by a greyhound bus, ask them if they knew why their son had been on such a path, ask them if as a child he would ever eat all of his dinner before he ran out to the ice cream truck, stood in front of the open window and begged for sprinkles. * I would pretend to be an elitist just to insure myself the certainty that I wasn't a true elitist then I would congratulate the guy to my right who had nicer things than I did, the car, the clothes, the collectibles. I would redefine the word America so that it was true to the history of the word, not the invention of what the word should mean by agents unintelligible, seeking a specific agenda of deceit. I would put on a search for oxymorons, men who never lie, political only in that they know how to govern themselves; women who let men govern themselves, faithful in their condition. I would form a council of these men and women; I would bang a gavel made of smoke and ask them if they wanted cream or coffee. I would go up to a perfect stranger and thank them for being awake. I would sleep in a torso shaped cleft of rock in some Mohave quarry; drown away in the red sky. I would cook breakfast in the morning by campfire; I would burn whatever money in my wallet was to be used for myself and not for others. I would set myself on fire just to know what it feels like on the outside. |
