It's funny… when you write with certain music in the background or in the foreground or wafting through your head, the influence it has on your words is amazing…it's kinda like drugs. Kinda like how the words of so many songs that so many straight people sing and claim as personal anthems, were written in a cloud of smoke in a big room of people having sex. Or the paintings that we all gape at like, "how the hell did they ever paint something like that? And look at the symbolism…and the contrast…and the…"…were painted on some really good high… im sitting here with the beautiful voice of ani d floating across the hallway from my room to the computer room (since my cd player won't stretch all the way in here-- I just have to turn it up real loud)…and it's kinda weird because what i'm about to write will be in part because of what surrounds me.
Influence is both so blatant and hidden in our society. I went through this big philosophical phase about a month ago (pertaining to influence)… my friend from argentina sent me this email about the occurrings of some random day…he had gone into the city of beunos aries (he lives outside of it) with his friends and they had been walking under a bridge and had seen a man lying on the ground. At first, they thought he was drunk and passed out, but when they got closer, they saw blood everywhere and realized that he was dead. And for some reason, something hit me when I read that.
A man died.
To me, he was a random, no-named Argentinian man under a remote bridge in a distant city I have never been to. How could that ever effect me?? But then I thought about influences and the way people work and the the way people affect each other… and what if I was going to meet him someday? What if he was going to meet someone who was going to meet someone who was going to meet me someday?
We all take a little bit of each other everywhere we go…kind of like those big puffy flowers that spread their seeds when the wind blows…they scatter and grow in other places.
People are like that. We talk to each other and plant our ideas in other minds and those minds plant ideas in other minds…ideas that could never
have been planted if the first planting had never been.
And so what if the whole entire course of my life has been altered because of this single dead Argentinian man? Or what if part of myself has been passed all the way down to him through a big chain of people? Then did part of myself die with him? And then what about plane crashes and car accidents and the people that die every single day…? We never really give a thought as to how their death affects ourselves…
So now it sounds like I believe in fate. I don't. because I don't think I believe in god. But I believe that we are all connected in some weird way…through emotion, through influence, through just being alive together on this planet…and for some reason, it makes life a little more beautiful to me.
Just to know that we're all running around together, confused as hell…influencing little minds and pretending we are less naïve than everyone else. We dance around in little bubbles that i create for you and you create for me. We're preoccupied with things that don't matter. We forget that all we have is each other.
--debbie
****I've dreamt in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after and changed my ideas; they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind. ~ emily brontë****
3/15/2001
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