Wayward thoughts: Coconut moon
I am writing this without thinking...I am thinking, but it is a thoughtless thought. Thoughtless thoughts are not careless or even unthinking. They are thoughts without a goal, or even the knowledge that they are thoughts. They come and go, like the breeze. You feel it, but cannot see it. Is feeling superior to seeing? Then why do we need the iteration of thought?
Love, anger, sorrow, pleasure - are they accepted and understood unless expressed? Oh, tell me please, we beg. Dogs and bitches, paws outstretched, puppy eyes seeking that thread that will connect bone to hand.
Try capturing a little air in a box. The fear of not opening it because of imminent loss is worse than not having that air. Even so, when you open the box, you won't notice that the wind has escaped. What you had captured was not the air, but the thought of it.
I am watching my hands. Today I find them ugly, the nail varnish chipped. Superficially it is about vanity. It is not. I am using the chipped varnish to hit out at something within me...something chipped. The hands are the same, rather tiny. Unless you are really close to me, you will not notice the varnish. It just shimmers like moonlight.
Have you ever eaten coconut shorbet? I just did. It does not look or taste like moonlight. I would not know what moonlight tastes like. I can imagine it would not be anything like coconut shorbet. This thing is not coconuty enough or shorbet enough. It tastes like sweet chalk. I think of my tongue as a slate on which I can write the story of the palm tree. The ancestry of the coconut would be interesting.
Have you realised that although I did not like the shorbet I have thought a lot about it. Are these thoughtless thoughts? Or is the moon a coconut or the coconut a moon?
I'll think about it...