pura bola de
[13 november 2009]

“We are all agreed that your theory is crazy. The question that divides us is whether it is crazy enough to have a chance of being correct.”

—Niels Henrik David Bohr


Driving home, all I could do was laugh and laugh and laugh some more.

Only minutes after midnight on Friday the Thirteenth, and already it was clearly my Big Lucky Day.

By the time I exited the 5 Freeway, I had devised a solid plan in which the aim would be to get rejected by as many of the most incredible, brilliant, stunning women I could find from then until the end of the year.

By then, I calculated that my heart would be one big, thick callous pumping steady streams of arctic blast coolant day and night throughout my entire circulatory system.

At that point, I would shave my head and become a monk, ringing gongs before dawn until 2012, right up to the point when the DMT flood washes us all into an illuminated galactic state of third-eye cosmic bliss.

One theorist claims that the ones who want us are never the ones we really want. Another argues that the ones we really want never want us.

Something at the cellular level, maybe smaller, maybe quantum, maybe metaphysical altogether.

Love! Romance! Amore!

Yes, it truly is Blind. It truly is a Mystery. It truly is an infinite comedy of errors in which no one ever winds up with anyone they should, the entire race endlessly leapfrogging moments of divine opportunity over unsynchronized clocks and random ragged multiple time zones, forever in search of what can never be had, a perpetual aesthetics of just beyond your future grasp.

Yes, bit by bit, we sell it all away by the minute and the hour, don't we. Bit by bit, we diminish. The image of you reflected in my dilated pupils. The taste of your lips, imagined and real. Something you said that made us both laugh. A fleeting expression in your eyes. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

And yet, I can’t help thinking that somewhere in between these relentless minutes and seconds and nanoseconds there is something more than just pennies, I am sure of it. I swear, I can feel it, can't you, I can just feel it there, don't you just feel it there, taste it, smell it—

Yes. O, Yes. There has to be more than this. That bitter, metallic taste can't just be the result of sucking the tit of monetary exchange day in and day out for more than three decades, even if my tongue is turning green in my mouth.

"This is where we have to learn to live because this is the only place in which we might meet and connect," I say, just to get it moving again, just to be saying something.

But with each word now, nickels and dimes have begun falling from my lips, regurgitated from somewhere deep inside, some other dimension, some kind of stringtheory wormhole timespace slippage going on here opening up channeling through me from the inside out. Soon, I have all the change to spare in the world, I could make a thousand local and long-distance telephone calls or more, one for each fantasy materializing in my mind, one for each ideal date/state.

But by now they have destroyed all the phone booths and emergency call boxes and replaced them with surveillance cameras and thousands of acres of sprawling digital data storage facilities. Every communication can now be traced, every message has been recorded before you even think it.

But this is where we will find each other, I am sure of it now, the both of us turned completely inside out, time shooting off in every direction and dimension at once. The image of something uncontainable, unquantifiable, exceeding all capacity.

O, Yes: Love! Love! Splendid, wondrous, beautiful love!

Love is everything, and everything, love! There is nothing else that we need. There is nothing greater, no higher power, no larger good. Love conquers all. Love solves all problems, dissolves all boundaries, all borders, all divisions. Love eliminates bad breath and body odor, love eats away at stubborn fungal infections. Love will lower your monthly interest rate, put an end to all addictive behavior, heal all childhood trauma and wounds.

Ah, yes, love, the primal lifeblood acid of the universe slicing through all matter and antimatter alike. Nothing can stand in the face of love. All are equal and illuminated in love. All you need is love. Nothing can resist the power of love, not even the love of power, love. Love is all, and all is love. Love love love! Gimme gimme! Gimme some…

Love, baby!

O, Yes—O Sweet, Delicious, Honeydew Dripping Love! Summer day warm and breezy love, winter night fuzzy blanket love, rain on window tapping love. Crazy crying 3am love. Delirious baby mama daddy love. No please don’t go or I’ll die love! Manic depressive bipolar love! Superstar Chicano activist couple love. I fuckin hate you love! Sunday morning throwdown love, crackhead love, ride the bus nine hours love! Free love, cheating love, everything in-betweening love! Blogger love, artist love. Wannabe fotonovela love. Lick you up and down for hours love! For HOURS love! Hold the IV-drip love! Chemo love, emo love, call the 9-1-1 love! Throw all your shit out in the street love—fucker! Take him back again love! Take him back again love! Last night a DJ saved my life love! Somebody else in the picture love (!?!) Ché Guevara revolutionary love! Dysfunctional family Christmas love! Six point something billion love! Water love! Peak oil love! Melting polar ice cap love! Infinite expanding universe love! Quarks and gluons flying love! Hater love! Biter love! Pura bola de—

Something love.






image+text copyright ©2009 by Ruben R. Mendoza. All rights reserved.

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