on levitated mass
the giant rock at lacma made me laugh during visits one through four
what a pointless, fucking waste of money, this town has gone to shit
i spread my word to friends at each visit to the museum
can you even believe it? sure, it’s big, but do you know how much they spent on it?
i felt that way until this weekend, when i suddenly didn’t
this time i felt different — i saw it, and i felt inexplicably moved and i shook with beauty
i suddenly loved it after laughing so many times at it like i suddenly loved joni mitchell after laughing so many times at ‘california’
so when my friend asked, ‘what’s the point?’ i responded without thinking, viscerally,
‘what’s the point of any art,’ and she nodded, and i could suddenly articulate my affection,
‘and what’s the point of any rock, any giant rock? what’s the point of earth?’
i felt a new connection with the levitated stone, a deep, bizarre connection
i closed my eyes and my spine tingled
it’s a rock and i’m a man, but is it really more pointless?