THE EDITOR
Even when it’s right, it’s not quite.
To prod and pull and stretch and twist.
Make something out of nothing, and nothing out of less.
It’s early morning on the drill line.
No tolerance or time to spare.
You think you’re safe in solemn silence.
But the life that you keep and the way that you struggle,
Is beyond comprehension and beyond your control.
Waiting for some rescue boat in the form of clever happenstance.
Eating time with hopes and promise, days turn into years.
You teach the ones who follow, and practice what you preach.
But it’s merely substitution, and the core persists, unchanged.
Fate has been both kind and cruel.
Faith has come and morphed and left.
There’s a comfort in your chaos, in the head that just won’t sleep.
But there’s a stopwatch for every system,
And they all count down to nil. —original poem, c. 2010
Everything must sit neatly in a distinct mode, layout, structure, etc., to feel right, comfortable, or acceptable. I wiggle and edit and shake and switch until the puzzle pieces align. Like a scratchy wool sweater, I yank at the sleeves and twist the collar until the seams fall into place.
It all starts simple and harmless enough: exchanging shoes because the insole slightly rubs a toe the wrong way; remaking a bed three times because the sheets aren’t equidistant from the edge of the frame; returning five different pairs of glasses until finally finding arms that can rest on the ears in a particular angle as to not disturb headphones; endlessly researching the origins of every product, ingredient, chemical, additive, or cleverly hidden component to ensure it’s nontoxic, vegan, cruelty-free, natural, sustainable, and organic.
Then things start to get REAL specific. The systems, habits, and unbreakable routines function like a panic-inducing, swiftly falling Tetris line. One ill-conceived, hasty move or simple incautious step, and life tumbles in on itself like a Jenga tower.
The upside is ultimately arriving at precisely the energy, mood, temperature, lighting, music, feel, meal, time, position, or product I’ve painstakingly targeted.
The downside is a kind of constant manic discomfort and inability to settle or rest.
So, yeah…it’s not great.
Solitary Alignment 