So it finally happened.

Tonight, for the first time, I finally felt like a writer.

I was washing a couple dishes, trying to get the internet here to work (I'm really amazed right now that it's working at all), when all of a sudden, a sentence popped out of my mouth:

Nothing is ever destroyed. Not in the universe. Not in our minds.

And I said to myself...damn! That's a pretty good line. And all of a sudden, I started following it with other lines. And these sentences just started pouring out. And the moment when I became a writer came when I sat down instantly and wrote all these lines down. Saying them aloud as I was writing, like a character writing an email in a movie. This strange, stream of consciousness thing was really fantastic. So I would be happy to share it with you. It's rough, but it will turn into something really great.

Nothing is ever destroyed. Not in the universe. Not in our minds.

Energy can never be destroyed. It is only changed into different types of energy. Anger transforms into denial. Which transforms into sadness. We never forget. We never destroy the memories or the feelings which we had. They are only transmutated into other things. Things which help us or destroy us. As regular cells turn into cancer, so too can memories become a cancer of the spirit. Before too long, the tumors of the past eat away at our present lives, until we are nothing. But not nothing. Changed. Changed into something terrible. Where once, life and happiness were obtainable, we become harbingers of grief. We bring with us nothing but regrets in our pockets, and we are a blight to those around us. This is the sickness of loss. The cancer of grief. This thing that eats the survivors. It's why we have funerals. So that we can make some attempt at transferring this energy into someone already dead. Someone who can't be eaten by remorse. Who can only be eaten by the worms. Death is easy. It is living that is so difficult. Why we fight so hard to keep this life sometimes I do not know. For death is so much easier. Even in the far reaches of the unknown, where the energy contained in the body transfers into who knows what. Even that is easier than moving on when there is nothing but emptiness. Life transformed into regret that one wears like a cross. Drags along the dirt, leaving a trail of sadness in its wake.




Like I said, really rough. But it's going to be the basis for a very interesting piece. If you want to see it, I will be performing the final (for then) draft of this piece on January 2nd at Followspot Theatre.


Till later...

--Paul