“I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the Stern Fact, the Sad Self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson
But that is not what I am obsessed with. I am obsessed with me.
I am my own ever present meme.
Sure you may have thought the statement,”Where ever you go, there you are” was a joke. But it’s not.
Where ever I go I am there.
And it is freakin’ me out man.
That Emerson dude knew. I mean he really knew. This was long before he went into fridges and Hi Fi and stereo stuff. But his stereo’s always needed at least two speakers. It took him until 1969 to figure that one and he needed both Marx and Lennon’s help.
How can you be two places at once when you’re not anywhere at all?
But that makes three. He was really old by then so neither he nor I am inclined to wrestle that whole trinity thing. I take comfort that I may still have time to transcend my obsession with myself since I am nowhere nearly as chronologically gifted as Emerson was even when he first started making radios.
Those were indeed monophonic constructs.
It all starts with one.
But the key word is starts.
So even though I am stuck lugging the object of my obsession with me where ever I travel and have to experience the world through my obsession’s senses, filter them through my self obsessed brain, share them though my self obsessed mouth or my self obsessed fingers through this self obsessed blog post I have hope.
Through empathy maybe I can have brief flashes of being two places at once and see the world through another’s self obsessed perceptions. If I am really lucky that person I am empathizing with has transcended self obsession and it will reveal a whole new vision of reality.
Kind of like, they’ll tell two friends and I’ll tell two friends ect. ect ect.
Meanwhile I need to get more coffee. See. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me.