a way of being alive

Harry Dodge, from My Meteorite:

Part of the weird drama of sex is a body’s gradual (eventually thorough) de-evolution into unreason; the creature becomes a vehicle for something strange. It’s never clear what (from within, from without?) but suddenly something drives us and that’s the point. For moments, or more, this loss of control is unquestionable, a new way of being alive.

All the ways in which we are alive.

We waited for rain. The rain didn’t come. The air, so heavy with waiting. We went to the water’s edge. The water was so cold. We stayed for a while and then we went home.

My mind, imagination, more active in dreams than in waking. Long narrative threads intertwined while I sleep, but in the morning I come to the page, empty.

This too is a way of being alive.