the uncontrolled vocabulary
“What is it — this thing which now forces itself upon my notice? What
is it made up of? How long was it designed to last? And what qualities
do I need to bring to bear on it — tranquility, courage, honesty,
trustworthiness, straightforwardness, independence, or what?” (Marcus
Aurelius, Meditations, Book Three, Hays trans.)
They were born twins, and assumed they would remain as such, but the
years wore on them in different ways, brought up different attributes,
which only increased as one walked north and one walked south, and
they took up new homes, new wives, until you wouldn’t even know they
were twins, wouldn’t even know they were brothers. One I knew well,
years ago, and the other I only met once, and I realized something,
watching them uncomfortably joke with each other. The god hates
equivalence. No one thing can ever be substiuted for another. I was
thinking of that this morning, making breakfast, watching the global
warmed December rain out the window, watching the factories across the
fields grinding away, and I thought of myself as a distinctive form,
as a thing which is seperate from what is around me, though perhaps
invisible, as things which share a form and color and texture hide
each other, and perhaps to understand what is distinct in me, I need
to leave here forever.
(12:14.05.19.2005) [/ana] #