Light study part 2 in my living room.

Prose or Poem?

SHOUTS & MURMURS
WHO AM I?
by Demetri Martin
FEBRUARY 28, 2011

Who am I? That is a simple question, yet it is one without a simple answer. I am many things—and I am one thing. But I am not a thing that is just lying around somewhere, like a pen, or a toaster, or a housewife. That is for sure. I am much more than that. I am a living, breathing thing, a thing that can draw with a pen and toast with a toaster and chat with a housewife, who is sitting on a couch eating toast. And still, I am much more.

I am a man.

And I am a former baby and a future skeleton, and I am a distant future pile of dust. I am also a Gemini, who is on the cusp.

I am “brother” and I am “son” and I am “father” (but just according to one person, who does not have any proof but still won’t seem to let it go). Either way, I am moving very soon and not letting her know about it. I am asking you to keep that between us.

I am trustworthy and loyal, but at the same time I am no Boy Scout. No, I am certainly not. I am quite the opposite, in fact. And by opposite I do not mean Girl Scout. No. I mean Man Scout. And by that I do not mean Scout Leader. In fact, I am not affiliated with the Scouts at all. Let’s just forget about the Scouts and Scouting altogether, O.K.?

I am concepts and thoughts and feelings and outfits. And I am each of these all at once, unless I am in the shower. Then I am not outfits, because that would be uncomfortable.

To some I am known as Chief. And these are usually people who work in Radio Shack or try to sell me shoes. To others I am known as Buddy. These are people who dwell in bars and wonder if I’ve got a problem or what it is that I am “looking at.” And to still others, who are in that same bar, standing just off to the side, I am “Get Him!”

I am he and I am him. I am this and I am that. And I am, from time to time, Roberta, if I am in a chat room.
People have known me by many titles. In high school, I was Student and Key Club Vice-President and Queer Bait. In college, I was Pledge and then Disappointed and then Transfer Student. I am still amazed at how picky certain so-called “brotherly” organizations can be. And I am actually glad that they didn’t choose me for their stupid fraternity.

To some I am fantasy, and to others I am Frank, mostly because I have told them that this is my name—even though it is not even close to my name. I am a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a pita. Why the pita? That counts as another mystery.

I am everything and I am nothing. I am just kidding; I am not everything and nothing. That would be ridiculous. I am just everything.

I am what I eat. And I am this especially when I bite my nails.

I have been called Hey, You! and Get Out of the Way! and Look Out! And then, some time later, Plaintiff.
I am my own worst critic. I am going to give you an example. “That’s not me enough” is the kind of thing I am prone to say about myself. See what I mean? I am sure you do.

I am the silent majority.

I am a loud minority.

I am not talking about Puerto Ricans when I say that, because I am not a racist. I am just clearing that up. In fact, I am pretty sure I have at least one friend from each of the races (Hi, Guillermo).

I am friend. I am foe. I am fo’ sho’. What up, y’all?

I am sorry about that. I was just talking to one of my race friends, a black one. I am white and I am black. And I am both of these when I am dressed as a mime. And then I am sh-h-h.

I am Batman, but only on Halloween. And then I am not invited to many parties. But I am fine with that, because that just makes me an even more accurate Batman (because Batman does not go to parties as Batman but only as Bruce Wayne). I am right about this.

I am someone who likes to go to the park. But I am not the guy with the Labrador retriever and the tennis ball and the tattered book under his arm, who is wearing fleece and is kind of tan. No. I am not that guy. I am sick of that guy and all the women who talk to him.

I am the Walrus, but not the one you’re probably thinking of. I am the Other Walrus, the one who is less the Walrus in the sense of legendary music and more the Walrus in the sense of his tendency to lie around on a beach for too long.

I am bravery. I am courage. I am valor. I am daring. I am holding a thesaurus.

I am the sun. I am the moon. I am the rain, I am the earth. I am these when I am taking mushrooms with Kevin. I am good friends with Kevin. I am not sure what Kevin’s last name is.

I am sometimes referred to as Excuse Me in an annoyed tone of voice, because apparently I am in the way. I am so sorry. I am supposed to be some sort of mind reader, I guess. I am moving out of the way now as slowly as I possibly can. I am doing this and there’s nothing you can do about it.

I am often the one they call You but I am no more You than you. I am me. And I am more Me than you are or can ever be. And one time I was Corey for almost five minutes while I was talking with a stranger, until she realized that I was not her friend Corey.

I am neither here nor there, but there—a little to the left. Yeah. That’s me.

I am waving at you. I am waving right at you now.

I am looking right at you.

I am sensing that you don’t know me. I am starting to feel awkward.

I am getting out of here. ♦

The Dream

Usually passing through
forgotten
but not this time
a specter
of failures
of regrets
that hangs over me
in my waking hours
tinting my day
grey

Quotes

"When you're a kid, they tell you it's all 'Grow up. Get a job. Get married. Get a house. Have a kid' and that's it. But the truth is the world is so much stranger than that. It's so much darker. And so much madder… And so much better." - Love & Monsters, Doctor Who

"We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one." - The Big Bang, Doctor Who

I Do This

Inspiration

Light study in my living room.

Good Poetry

"Baby Pants"
by Misha Collins
The Columbia Poetry Review #21, 2008 Edition. 

This morning I drive across town for a friend 
To Justin’s house on a Saturday at 9.
His wife yells from under wet hair
Belt unbuckled
“Justin!”
He’s down in the office
And I sit—collapse on the new couch
Custom made, brown and squarer than a couch should be.
Justin’s baby produces baby pants for my inspection.
I’m impressed, he can find his own pants now.
Can’t put them on, but knows
They go
On his baby legs.
And there I am
With my friend’s family
On a weekend morning.
The mother holds an envelope
In her teeth
Hoists and struggles
To pant her boy.
I’m slouching and hot in my vest
My blue, down vest.
Thinking today was colder than it is.
Forgetting that fall in California
Is like summer back home.
Plastic diapers pack the thighs of tiny corduroys
The smell of Cheerios bloated and floating in milk
What have I missed?

Born to Die

I was listening to a song by Scissor Sisters in the car.  This is a song I've heard many times on my iPod, but this was the first time those three words stuck to me, and my mind began to ruminate on its meaning. Born to die.

Just google the phrase and the first thing you'll find is a song by Lana Del Rey.  Take away her name and you see hundreds of lyrics with probably thousands of other works having used these exact words.  Born to die.

A sad phrase.  Fatalistic.  Nihilistic.
Life is meaningless
Breathing in, breathing out
Life is fragile
Dying is easy
But no
We were born to do so much more
Born to live
Born to suffer
Born to love
Born to experience a world spectacular
Born to be woven into the narrative of human history
Born into the mystery

When Lyrics Speak to Me

"Never Meant to Know" by Tally Hall

Woke up today with a lay of the land
Feather in cap and the sun in the sand
It was easy
It was easy to understand
Everything suddenly falls out of sight 
Every attachment is made of delight
That you offered 
You have offered to give me life 

CHORUS
See the sky and all the land together again
See the way the earth can stay below
Who do we think we are? 
Everything plays a part 
There are some things we are never meant to know 

Having enjoyed all the meat from the bone
Is perfectly equal to being alone
It was even
But you breathe and I turn to stone
Everything suddenly looks like a sign 
Easy to see from the outermost clime 
I believe in what I leave in the way behind

CHORUS

And all the parts combine to one 
And all of us around the sun 
Everything will fall away 
To order from the disarray 
See the sun the shadows cast
From all the times I floated past
See the ocean spinning out
With all the hope; all the doubt

See the sky and all the land together again
See the way the earth can stay below
Who do we think we are?
Everything plays a part
There are some things we don't understand
Reasons on the other hand
There are some things we are never meant to know

__________________________________________________________

Never has a song resonated with my outlook in life than this one.  I think it takes one profound moment--one encounter with something completely out of your own understanding and reasoning to change the way you see the world to such where everything suddenly looks like a sign.  For me that moment came in Juarez, Mexico.  And since then, I've seen that the Creator indeed intervenes in the affairs of insignificant humans like myself.

I think this is where I renounce my deist views as much as it gave me comfort to know what I was and what my beliefs could be labeled as at that point in my life.  It's time for some cognitive dissonance.  It's time for new struggles to figure out what I believe.

Euphoria

This evening I have been in a state of euphoria.
Pure. Absolute. Bliss
The floodgates have opened - endorphins, steratonin, dopamine have been unleashed

Tears of joy
Joy that I have found my lust for life
Joy that I have been so blessed
Blessed that all the stars have aligned to this moment
A star of a loving family
A star of amazing friends
Hundreds of stars - each a blessing
Acts of kindness
Memories of happiness

Words cannot describe it
I want to scream
I want to swear
In futile attempts to express
How happy I am

I told myself
Remember tonight
Remember the 7th of August
My Ebenezer to the blessings that abound