Failure teaches us that life is but a draft, a long rehearsal for a show that will never play.
-Hipolito
Tyler was pulling driftwood logs out of the surf and dragging them up the beach. In the wet sand, he’d already planted a half circle of logs so they stood a few inches apart and as tall as his eyes. There were four logs, and when I woke up, I watched Tyler pull a fifth log up the beach. Tyler dug a hole under one end of the log, then lifted the other end until the log slid into the hole and stood there at a slight angle. You wake up at the beach. We were the only people on the beach. With a stick, Tyler drew a straight line in the sand several feet away. Tyler went back to straighten the log by stamping sand around its base. I was the only person watching this. Tyler called over, “Do you know what time it is?” I always wear a watch, “Do you know what time it is?” I asked, where? “Right here,” Tyler said. “Right now.” It was 4:06 P.M. After a while, Tyler sat cross-legged in the shadow of the standing logs. Tyler sat for a few minutes, got up and took a swim, pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and started to leave. I had to ask. I had to know what Tyler was doing while I was asleep. If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person? I asked if Tyler was an artist. Tyler shrugged and showed me how the five standing logs were wider at the base. Tyler showed me the line he’d drawn in the sand, and how he’d used the line to gauge the shadow cast by each log. Sometimes, you wake up and have to ask where you are. What Tyler had created was the shadow of a giant hand. Only now the fingers were Nosferatu-long and the thumb was too short, but he said how at exactly four-thirty the hand was perfect. The giant shadow hand was perfect for one minute, and for one perfect minute Tyler had sat in the palm of a perfection he’d created himself. You wake up, and you’re nowhere. One minute was enough Tyler said, a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.
-Fight Club Chapter 3
Failure and perfection.
One minute was enough. A person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.
Life is a draft.
We are dust.
a moment is all we have.
a moment of perfection is the most we could expect
and it is enough.
I had some beautifully perfect moments with Bea.
If she never talks to me again...a moment is the most I could have expected. And I am thankful to have known her.
But for this moment I will let my heart hope.
I will continue to pray. To hope she misses me as much as I her.
I will ask You for more moments many many more although I'm grateful for the ones I've been given.
She didn't show how much she wanted to be with me until I was ready to quit.
I now know she wanted it then. I pray that she still does.
I hope she shows that one more time. I won't let it go.
It's what my heart continues to hope for.
Isn't that what we all hope for?
To know that the love we feel is mutually felt?
All the personality tests and astrology signs...
I miss her
Another Sunday
Lent draws closer and closer to Easter
Today marks the halfway point of this season.
I miss her God.
I miss Bea
She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl. We did not know what to make of her. In our minds we tried to pin her to a cork board like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew.
Honey Dewdrops - Loneliest Songs
-Hipolito
Tyler was pulling driftwood logs out of the surf and dragging them up the beach. In the wet sand, he’d already planted a half circle of logs so they stood a few inches apart and as tall as his eyes. There were four logs, and when I woke up, I watched Tyler pull a fifth log up the beach. Tyler dug a hole under one end of the log, then lifted the other end until the log slid into the hole and stood there at a slight angle. You wake up at the beach. We were the only people on the beach. With a stick, Tyler drew a straight line in the sand several feet away. Tyler went back to straighten the log by stamping sand around its base. I was the only person watching this. Tyler called over, “Do you know what time it is?” I always wear a watch, “Do you know what time it is?” I asked, where? “Right here,” Tyler said. “Right now.” It was 4:06 P.M. After a while, Tyler sat cross-legged in the shadow of the standing logs. Tyler sat for a few minutes, got up and took a swim, pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and started to leave. I had to ask. I had to know what Tyler was doing while I was asleep. If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person? I asked if Tyler was an artist. Tyler shrugged and showed me how the five standing logs were wider at the base. Tyler showed me the line he’d drawn in the sand, and how he’d used the line to gauge the shadow cast by each log. Sometimes, you wake up and have to ask where you are. What Tyler had created was the shadow of a giant hand. Only now the fingers were Nosferatu-long and the thumb was too short, but he said how at exactly four-thirty the hand was perfect. The giant shadow hand was perfect for one minute, and for one perfect minute Tyler had sat in the palm of a perfection he’d created himself. You wake up, and you’re nowhere. One minute was enough Tyler said, a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.
-Fight Club Chapter 3
Failure and perfection.
One minute was enough. A person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.
Life is a draft.
We are dust.
a moment is all we have.
a moment of perfection is the most we could expect
and it is enough.
I had some beautifully perfect moments with Bea.
If she never talks to me again...a moment is the most I could have expected. And I am thankful to have known her.
But for this moment I will let my heart hope.
I will continue to pray. To hope she misses me as much as I her.
I will ask You for more moments many many more although I'm grateful for the ones I've been given.
She didn't show how much she wanted to be with me until I was ready to quit.
I now know she wanted it then. I pray that she still does.
I hope she shows that one more time. I won't let it go.
It's what my heart continues to hope for.
Isn't that what we all hope for?
To know that the love we feel is mutually felt?
All the personality tests and astrology signs...
I miss her
Another Sunday
Lent draws closer and closer to Easter
Today marks the halfway point of this season.
I miss her God.
I miss Bea
She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl. We did not know what to make of her. In our minds we tried to pin her to a cork board like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew.
Honey Dewdrops - Loneliest Songs