The way out

Writing exercise

Rules:
1 keep your hand moving
2 lose control
3 be specific
4 don’t think
5 don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, or grammar

Write for 15 minutes starting with “i see”

Result (unedited)
I see a way out, but it’s on the ground and I’m on a merry go round. It’s a matter of perspective, what’s moving and what’s not. There’s a way of fixing my eyes and moving my body that makes me sense that there’s stability somewhere. Cross products shove me in unexpected directions but if I can just hold onto the bar and move my neck, I can find perspective. I see that the way out involves jumping, but the ground so close is the ground that’s moving the fastest. If I were strong enough, I could jump way out to the sandbox, but I am no longer batman. If only the bars were over the TOP of the merry go round, I could just jump up and catch one and let my legs swing out all the energy I’ve built up on this ride until I was hanging still and peacefully. But then I’d be hanging from a bar and I’d have a different kind of problem, with the spinning world below like a welcoming hot tub of familiar challenges. It’s not really a way out, but more of a bar vacation. The way out has to involve jumping, or just waiting for friction to grind the world to a halt, but I hate waiting. Rhythm has to play a part here in the way out. I can choose five or six points and focus on them long enough to judge whether they’d be a good place to land and let my physical intuition do enormous calculations of projectile motion that I’d never be able to write down. There?…. There?….. there? ….. there? ….. there?….. there?. No, not there. Not there. Not there. Ok there. The way out also involves some pretty careful timing. Now? Now? Now? Now? Now? No, not yet. I now watch my landing place every 10 seconds for 3 seconds and try to study it. It seems to move and change. I use the studying of the landing place as an excuse for not jumping. But soon I will jump. Next time. Now? Ooooh, I missed it. OK NOW. Ouch. Ow o wow ow. What have I broken? Why am I still spinning? Where is everybody? Will I get used to this? Maybe I should plant something or build something. I’m still spinning. Where is the rhythm of stillness? What is there to guide the next move without the fight against the spinning? Anywhere I put my hands and my knees and my elbows and my feet they stay.