the illumination of feeling

....the importance of how we experience ourselves in this dreamlike existence and what our perception of ourselves means: -For the passing of time. Who we mean to this movie will determine how many frames pass per second; the frames will always be passing; but we can slow them down to appreciate each frame with enhanced scrutiny. How? IIs it worth a damn? Well, If I am not even an actor at all in the movie of my life, then the time blows right on by in weeks like leaves scraping down the street. Feeling like you think every one else ought to feel upon doing the boring things they do is no way to overlook this highway. Life is already gone if we are logical. How lonely it is to lose yourself in logic. I place myself back in my seat after remembering what its like to live emotionallly, and then i begin to see; in the way that I see when I am present in this reeling and not merely counting frames to know when the movie will necessarilly end. Unkowingly, the shadow of logic crept over my winter and sheathed all of the passional shades with an emotionless gray; making sense of everything turns life into a lucid dream where nothing means anything but symbols in an equation without end. I have never seen in symbols explicitly nor that comprehensively-but representations....patterns, how meaningless the world looks through the eyes of a mathematician, of this i am sure. I say meaningless because to me, there is more meaning in the feeling-the art that fills my heart speaks to a part of me i deem more important than the part that reason fills. I lose my friends when i leave the world behind-one does not enjoy the intricacies of living in a village when viewing down from a mountain. The director of a movie gets less out of watching his work than an emotional onlooker; he who sees the storyline as unfolding with necessity, or the camera work with a science perceives the reason rather than possessing the feeling. It is in those finite possessions of fulfilling feelings that the infinite is grasped. We lose the infinite when we lost ourselves in logic.Who I am in this experience of existence is so drastically different from week to week; today i am filled with emotions and feelings that conquer me-I recognize my reflection in the window of the shuttle bus; that's the me that lives in hell and thinks only of the impossible need for love; that's the one the girls wanted me to be back then; girls attracted only to the indifference to pretty things that attaches itself to someone who feels like they're suffering-but what is that makes me burn? I can name a million things-but the logician within me longs for that unity which can tie it all together...always looking for unity; there's got to be a core source for this burning within me; all I have are the fragments, the ways that the things i see play themselves out in reality. There is anxiety before mental understanding though-my body knew returning to this city would do to me before my head could begin to articulate-so i assert today, its the lack of understanding amongst all of us that leaves me feeling so isolated, so anxious. Living alone in our heads we will always be-this thought saddens me. I resent the world for not understanding me. I resent my friends for misunderstaning me-I resent them for doing things that I would never do- I resent the impossibility for pure reciprocal empathy in a world that understands love as unity. I sit and listen to what she says and wonder if its always been a projection of myself onto her; if it will always be this way since my head is a place i can never escape; maybe she used to say other things; maybe i always knew it was hopeless-that the recognition of a closeness between us was always nothing more than a trick that tapped into emotion to sell itself to us; we were always strangers technically and lovers only aesthetically.I am a card player who can only hold so many cards in his hands at one time though i keep the deck in my breast pocket. I am always tucked in that pocket in my completeness, but i can never be conscious of it all though; i can never keep the face of every card in the forefront of my mind all at the same time. A hand filled with hearts and captained by the suicide king suddenly shows me the error of my ways. The world of feeling illuminated all over again with the strike of a match. The meaning embodied again intuitively. I understand the importance of all; sensitivity reborn into the flickering light of a dancing flame. And then, I love her.These notes no longer Bm, D, Bm, G, G/E, Bm-They are the moments of a soul trapped in time; a life of perpetual becoming and melodies unfolding. Moving onward i see the ugly other thats been living in my body for the last six months, the hand of offsuit nothings thats been determining my moves.How suddenly the world of feeling reopens her arms to me. She tells me I belong to her, and I believe her with love that rings true with her every resonating tone, every twinly of an eye. The harmony shows itself to me again and time slows to a crawl-the bus ride lasts as long as I've longed for it to all year. Time tells me that I am again. But..this morning it occurred to me that were all strangers to one another-intersubjectivity an impossibilty in the way that would satisfy me-I feel this logical conclusion; there is little that i can do.