The Sea-Bridge

Today, again, the question arises: why? Why does the sun come up on this feeble existence? What stops me from closing my eyes and falling into the void that covers my sleep? Perhaps one day, I imagine, memory will overtake me, and I will realize that my existence is nothing more than a thought. Perhaps it is already like that, it is only this troubling concept of the present that bothers me. I wish I could go back—I can in a way: through smells, photos and words I am taken back to the times when things were easier, predetermined, romantic and beautiful. But it is always so unsatisfactory. In the end I find myself here, alone or drunk. Last night I knew once again I would give in to alcohol—not by myself though, just in a social setting—and so I looked up at the beauty of the city within the night, at the building with the few individual hotel rooms lit up and saw that it was pleasing, so I thought to myself, “Remember this.” The thought confirmed something that is not new to me at all, that when I give in to alcohol, events begin to elude me. When I can’t remember what happened last night I am at a loss, I feel like: why even have fun if I can’t remember it in the end? But then maybe the nature of fun is just to be in the moment. So, bits and pieces of the night come back to me, but before it can fully return it is already the next night and I am attempting to grasp something of that night. What matter though? Perhaps the beauty of the building with lit rooms is fleeting, not meant to be remembered. Perhaps in reality it is nothing more than something I carry around with me. In fact I’m sure it is that (as Calvino calls it, the “sea-bridge” between the thing and my mind), that this appreciation of beauty is always with me, and it is released when I see certain things that are programmed to trigger the sensation. It doesn’t feel inside me as much as it is cast about the world though: the beauty of the night, the beauty of the buildings and the moon between them, the beauty of this woman. As though I am a vessel into which beauty is poured; otherwise, alone, I am emptiness.

Sonny J - Handsfree (If You Hold My Hand)

Santogold - L.E.S. Aristes (ooh ee remix)