i have this problem where things in front of me sometimes carry less weight than those things way in the future, that i haven't seen, met, or done, or things in the past, immediate or severely buried, somewhere, in my curly, compressed, compact, impacted memory banks. i go to these banks often. i hang out there, i rebuild or remix, falsify, staring at things that may or may not be evident in the negatives before me, mine or otherwise. i consider this a problem because things there are just painful, or beautiful, or fulfilling enough to nourish me. this means that i am malnourished, truly. that i go there too much means that i live with ghosts and/or place expectations on these (beautiful) ghosts who can never give me anything other than a rack on which to hang my fears or insecurities, or offer a bit of shade under which i can shield myself from the blinding possibility and beauty of enjoying the now. the other problem is that i usually return to these memory banks with a very now perspective. this means that i consider myself to 'suffer' (relatively) through the present, and instead, appreciate the past when it feels safe. this means that it was not this beautiful face i saw, sitting in front of me some valentine's day during the mid-oughts, but rather myself sitting in front of it, blockaded by an impenetrable stone wall, in a cage i couldn't even rattle, simply because i was not able to envision anything outside, or beyond it. my ghosts never offer direction, they leave false trails, and they thwart my headway. it's a poor blueprint, and i don't forgive them.this photo is © philip johnson.
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