#1
who the hell am i?
i am a sad little space cowboy
i. the phone
i wanted to start writing this after i watched Anthony Bourdain's story. I felt too familiar to his initial stages. That is when I got up and started writing this. Not just writing this but recording a timelapse. I pulled out my tripod and started placing the view right over to my shoulder and the cityscape that spilled in front of me. my phone slipped. and its screen cracked and there were three blurry lines that appeared on its edges. my reaction was nothing.
i had already accepted its fate. after 3 years of not changing the cover. after 3 years of comradery with me while i ventured through life so fearlessly, it had finally succumbed to its first real injury. but that didn't stop me, i had only picked up the phone and tapped on its screen as if that would fix it. it didn't.
ii. the cowboy and the universe
i was writing how i was a sad little space cowboy. and i was writing how i could feel the universe underneath my horse's hooves, how i could feel the recoil of each bounce and trudge on its rocky grounds. i have tried to be many things, and i have also tried to lasso so many other planets and sometimes asteroids that looked like planets into my atmosphere. but when i write, it's always sad, isn't it? it's always in a pleading tone where you can hear misery and despair in my voice, and almost assume that this isn't a good story or not a good essay, or whatever it is.
iii. the performance of feeling
when you feel too much i think it just doesn't numb you necessarily but it numbs the very core of your balance for things, it numbs your very being and every tiny blow and large explosion just hits the same way. i no longer feel anxiety, i merely perform it.
iv. love as big bang
i am a sad little space cowboy with my wide-brimmed cowboy hat that i tip off to all the fine ladies, i tip it in honor of the memories and pain they've set up in my universe. the experience of love, i can only describe as the experience of the big bang, of a new earth, and a new life and a new ecosystem set off within me, that will perpetually go through the cycles of life within me. do i choose to carry your memories and lessons? do i choose to let you be the flame that only stinges me? yes, i do.
v. the body
i am a sad little space cowboy with sweat dripping from his eyelids, and dirt in his moustache, i will trudge through life with the swings of my hip-thrusts, and the light tapping with the inner edges of my feet. there's a mild pain that shoots into the lower of my back whenever the hooves hit the ground. i can tolerate and hold it. i am not on a horse, my fingers are above a keyboard yet it feels like im in the middle of some countryside watching the sun drop down revealing an orange haze, and yes, its beautiful but its also mundane. and its not so becoming of me to pretend like the sunset isn't just a sunset. but a sweet reminder that this isn't the home i belong to, this place i will embrace, and become, but till then i will grieve everything that had made me, me. i will shed off my skin like a snake to become anew, but not necessarily new. only another me, but one familiar and accepting of his fate.
