hidden access road, waquoit bay, massachusetts. 5/25/2008, 3:43 pm.so sometimes when i throw my head back, it's like one part of my brain falls against another part, and for the tiniest, second-splitting moment it is as though i have the capability to reason out anything- and all of the strange parts about living and wondering suddenly fall to perfect clarity and reason, and my field of vision expands in all directions-
and for that tiny moment i reach perfect contentedness in everything, realizing something i'm sure that i need to realize, feeling gigantic and blanketing all questions and subjects with a "yes!"-
but it's almost as if it's badly spliced into the reels of the normal; that conclusion is cut off mid exclamation, without reaction, no effect, mid yell, half-word leaving my tired self crossing a crosswalk in manhattan or sitting limply in my car seat, burning in the sun.
when steven levy rediscovered albert einstein's brain, sleeping in pieces in mason jars,
when they put it all back together,
they realized he was missing an entire section, his parietal lobe filling in the cavern without hesitation and shooting shocks of mathematical brilliance everywhere- speech faltering, failing to asperger's.
so many of the people i'm close with have this too- that sudden knocking of brain-parts, that perfect communication, feeling in error, for an unintelligible second. i think that maybe it's ordinary, and that we're just putting in so much effort to find it-
and yet it comes up in odd places, odd days where i'll assume any thoughts will be buried under the damp haze of bad mood,
like yesterday, in the buzz of noontime cape cod, as without motion, my brain shocked and sparked me out of the hole i was in, and kept going, through the dinner at that badly lit new restaurant, through our wanderings into our friend's abandoned farm, past the frog that scared me into the oil black night field of uncut, gnarled christmas trees.
so,
THANK YOU CAPE COD, where the sky is ridiculous and blue and everything is made of only four colors, and the massachusetts that houses you.
and the good friends that massachusetts (and the world) houses.
(and the people who visited over 600 times in this photologue's first week alone, especially those who have given me feedback. thank you.)
sincerely.
