Choosing between darknesses
In that game of children, that gothic game of "choose!: deaf, blind or mute?" I selected silence. I couldn't stand the thought of not taking things in, of not absorbing the world as it went on, and was willing, suddenly and passionately willing, to cut off my participation, if that's what it took. Like a fox willing to lose his leg, a penitent willing to do self castration, I was willing to be seen and not heard, silent forever. In the choice between darknesses, I wanted to see and hear, even if everything I observed was always going to be trapped in loops in my mind, like a isolated city of cars trapped in the tangle of freeways strangling around and looping around forever. I'd always be silent, my mouth closed and my tongue sitting still. I said "mute," chose "mute" and in my mind I was an old man sitting silent at a window, still saying nothing.
And that was OK.
I started to write right after that.