Time

Time ain’t. There is no time. Time is subjective. When I was a kid in school they tried to make me believe that time was something linear, like edge of a knife. Problem was, I kept falling off, kept getting cut. I knew, without even thinking about it, that time was an invention to keep things from happening all at once. Cuz that would be totally confusing, would it not? Linear time is easy to understand, you can cut it into little portions that fit into the world. My teachers thought that was good, they thought they were doing me a favor. But kids don’t think that way, thank God.
Most of us kids learned to think that way, we were forced to, but some of us simply couldn’t. What I learned was to pay tribute to that system, though I did not believe in it. I learned to be realistic. I live in a world of deadlines and dates. It’s my curse, but it is a system. I like systems, I’m a system guy, in spite of myself. Damn, those teachers did good work, they got me, but nevertheless… time ain’t. Perfect example: gotta get up in half an hour, spent the night drinkin’ and thinkin’, the morning too…. People believe time is based on the movements of our planet around the sun, the movements of the moon around our planet, as if that was a repeating system, a clock. But it isn’t. It’s irregular. Our planetary system, our galaxy, our whole universe, is irregular. The most precise clocks we have in this day and age, after thousands of years of calculating time with increasing precision, fucking atom clocks, have to be corrected, because the universe doesn’t do what we would like it to do. The universe is irregular.

Okay, stop. I’m thankful for the concept of time. Just now I am listening to Ska Fort Rock from the Skatalites. It’s six in the morning. I’m drunk, been up all night, but no so drunk that I can’t appreciate this song. Why? Because it has a beautifully syncopated beat combined with wonderful horns… impossible without a concept of time. You know what gets me? It’s the pauses… the moments where there is nothing, where time is suspended… where time is drawn out… and then it comes… yeah. It’s a perfect example of what I mean. Subjective time, drawn out und then contracted, so beautiful…
Musicians play with time, and we should too. It’s a fucking game. Now I’m listening to Turn the Centuries, Turn, from the Stranglers. No pauses in that piece, incidentally.

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Time

You lose. There is a sort of deep ferocity about it, isn’t there? The next are waiting. It’s cruel, time. You simply can’t win against time, being mortal. You’ll never get to say all you wanted to… there isn’t enough time. You’re waiting for the right moment, and it just isn’t there. Or it has already past… you’re not fast enough. By the time you’re old enough to realize what you want to say, no one is listening anymore. Time’s up, you’re fucked. Well, perhaps it’s all for the best. Or not. You’ll never know, because you’ll be dead. In any case, you’re fucked.
Listening to Turkeychase, from Bob Dylan, by the by.
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Inevitable

What if… what if I had to take a piss, no matter what. Perhaps time is like a river. You can throw a pebble in, and you’ll cause a ripple, but the main current goes on. So, no matter what I do, I am going to have to go to the toilet. Excuse me, I’ll, uh… I’ll be right back. So, where was I? Ah, piss, that is to say, urine. I don’t want to offend anyone here, harharhaaardiharhar (Jackie Gleason greets you from the grave).
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All those little rivulets of urine I’ve pissed over the years have become a mighty river of time. There is no way anyone can stop it, least of all myself. Or could I? Could I simply say, one fine day, I shall never piss again? My bladder would burst, after a while, and I would cease to be. Would that stop time?
Christ, what makes me piss so much? The coffee, the beer, the rum? Sure as hell ain’t water. But I digress, as so often. Time. That was the subject in question. Damned if I can remember where I heard that, but time is what keeps everything from happening at once.
Is that true? What is time… a concept invented to order the incessant procession of sameness we all face from day to day. Time is a matter of perspection, a matter of scale. It’s subjective. I have no time, I have all the time in the world… there is in fact no difference between these two statements. The only thing that remains is inevitability. Things happen, and in the final analysis it doesn’t matter when. They will happen, all those things.

Here We Are

Well, here we are. Drunk, and alone. Typical situation. So… what shall the topic of conversation be on this fine evening? Drunken loneliness? Lonely drunks? Skunks? Punks? No? You may be thinking: he is alone, poor fucker, and there can be, in light of this fact, no conversation. Wrong. You simply have no fucking idea how many incredible conversations one can have with one’s own little self. Sometimes those are the best conversations of all. No distractions. No silly comments from well-meaning idiots who haven’t the slightest idea. No interruptions, waugh, that is the best! No one to tell me I am wrong! Whoop!
How did I get here? Well, let’s go back in time… two people fuck, a child is born, is christened Mr. Hellstrøm, grows through trials and tribulations to be a middle aged cynical asshole… voilá! Simple as that.
Time isn’t after our asses. Time doesn’t care. The days go by, and it is up to us to fill them with meaning, or with Dada, or with beauty, or with hell.
No matter what you do
The heavens are blue
The rest of your life lies before you

Not Enough Time

Not enough time to do everything I want to do. I need time to do the unimportant things I will do anyway… luxury before necessity, I always say. So, I have the feeling there won’t be enough time left to do the important things after I’m done with the bullshit, done with dithering away my time. How, I ask, can you even understand the important things if you haven’t had time to fuck around and waste time? I need time to be repetitive, I need time to repeat my mistakes, I need time to be bored… when I’m done I’ll, sort of, get, maybe, some important things done? I need time to say I haven’t got enough time, to say fuck off, you dick-head, you have no idea of my tight schedule. Time to be a christian, a buddhist, a hindu, a moslem, a coptic, a sikh, a sufi, a fucking zen mechanic, whatever. No time for religion, because in my opinion it’s a waste of time… but I’d liked to have had the time to try it out anyway. Time to fuck up badly, for years on end. Oh, wait…
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