I do a lot of walking. Tons. Mostly at night. It ain't anything except just a statement of what is. It's what I do, so here I am saying it because there ain't much else to say about myself, and I like talking about myself.
Walking. THOUSANDS of MILES a YEAR. I do it because my only alternative is to sleep, and there's a limit to how much of that you can do, unfortunately. You can't sleep sixteen hours a day and work the other eight, every day, for the rest of your life. You Just cant. I know because I've tried. No, not even with drugs. It just flat out ain't a tenable situation, ever, unless you put yourself in a coma. Then you can't work, and it becomes a completely different situation which is moot anyway.
Here, see. I'm talking about actually recognizing and accepting your inevitable choice to participate in this tragically unsatisfying, hellishly depressing, agonizingly unavoidable role in this... thing... this, this slow sludge that comprises the other half of awareness, as a functioning, living zombie. Aware and horrified. Relief from it isn't even a concept that exists, so forget that you ever even heard that there was such a thing that never was. Don't argue with me.
Eventually, almost every day, I'll realize that each horrifying slice of the experience is pretty much just mine alone. Unique to me, you know. And I'll wonder how I ever agreed to take ownership of all this... shit. So there's this thing I do, that I didn't know that I did... which is going out, out, out, dumb and unaware, and then going back in like a baby and grabbing on to whatever happens to be around that feels untainted, or different, or even just a brand new kind of bad. I heard about the doing of that kind of thing somewhere, so I know about it. I relate to it in a big way. Whatever that means... that is, the meaning of what I just laid out there describes in a vague, parallel way the sum feeling of my ignorant hopes, if they were added up over all of these years of wandering around, and then averaged out to the essence of some kind of total.
Once you begin to notice the absence of all the unnoticed miles, then I think you'll understand what 'going in like a baby' means to me. If you've taken hundreds of thousands of aimless footsteps in the dark, then you'll understand that eventually you want it to become less of something to do with just empty, heavy, unsupported swaths of time... that's what I want, anyway. I dunno why I'm talking like I think I know what you want. I guess I'm just lonely.
God, it's such a hopeless and diminishing thing to feel, the relentless press of every day on top of the other one. It's so much and it hurts so longly and I feel so old. I just wish that there could be such a thing as pain, again, but for the first time. Isn't that strange.
I really don't remember when I started to hope and wish that all of these everyday beginnings, of all of these waking ups and these long walks and little deaths would somehow add up to a beginning that I'd never met before, to a middle I'd never known, and a real ending that was more than just a last page that moved out of the way when it was turned, to reveal a brand new beginning to the same, endless exhaustion.
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Friday, June 5, 2015
Woof! said the puppy. I woofed back, then dropped my bottle.
I once knew a girl named Leah
Who's true love I wanted to be-ah
She turned me down flat
And then shit in my hat
Then she flipped me the bird
And said "See ya!"
Who's true love I wanted to be-ah
She turned me down flat
And then shit in my hat
Then she flipped me the bird
And said "See ya!"
Thursday, June 4, 2015
4-27-2015
4-27-2015
Here, imagine this scene and put yourself in it... It's night, of course, and overcast, but it's leaning toward the bright side of dim. Exactly not like an overcast day. At night when it's overcast, especially when the clouds are low, it's a lit up night time, different from a full moon because a full moon is stark and casts shadows which delineate the sharp borders between areas of light and dark...
...but on a night like this, light is shared and passed around and poured from here to there, transitioning softly and gradually. There aren't any lines; just fuzzy borders. The shapes of things seem much larger, which gives them more meaning. Huh? No, that's not quite right...
I think what it is, is that the shapes of things matter more. They're more present tense... they make a deeper imprint upon the moment. I don't know if that actually means anything, but things definitely give that impression of being something more than normal. Just the regular shapes of things soaked in the strange, diffuse un-light of the cloudlight.
Then... just now, only a few moments ago, I saw something that made me inhale sharply, and then...
...
!
...
That is, uh...
Ok.
I'll try to describe it as if this 'event' were giving me precise commands on how exactly to react. Here goes...
Inhale quickly and deeply, then involuntarily close your throat with a glottal stop; abrupt and important, fixating the act of breathing upon one enduring moment. Then really remember it the way it was...
So there I was, watching a column of low, bent over clouds of a bright orange-ish pink color march across a background of dark burnt umber. Then the farthest horizon beyond that orange procession was suddenly lit up with this hellish, unearthly and terrifying stroke of light, a narrow band that seemed to be only a precursor to the possibility of much more of itself that remained hidden beyond the horizon. Above, it was cut off by a relative darkness consisting of higher, closer clouds that formed an abrupt ceiling to the light. And inside that narrow, squashed place of orange where this was happening, it was... it was Armageddon, as it would look from a thousand miles away. It was a white lightening, with an orange afterglow that lit up and touched... geez, from my point of view... about a third of horizon. It may not sound like much, but it's all and more than I could see. It spread out through the fading orange expanse even further with white filaments like tree branches, or blood veins, or like an ancient river of ice on Mars reflecting the sunlight. A blinding electric fractal that scored the sky, leaving a complex afterimage of dancing purple furrows.
I stop my remembering now to remember why I wanted to describe this. And so I stop, and look up, and... there it is, all over again. Beauty, indescribable. And now I realize that I insult it by attempting to record the experience by shaping the memory of it with words, but I'm compelled to do it anyway.
Chaotic shapes form lines in three dimensions to a vanishing point, and the experience of watching this thing that I've been trying to describe here is just so satisfying. I'm seeing it, and it's talking itself to me the way that I wish I could be saying this to you.
Here, imagine this scene and put yourself in it... It's night, of course, and overcast, but it's leaning toward the bright side of dim. Exactly not like an overcast day. At night when it's overcast, especially when the clouds are low, it's a lit up night time, different from a full moon because a full moon is stark and casts shadows which delineate the sharp borders between areas of light and dark...
...but on a night like this, light is shared and passed around and poured from here to there, transitioning softly and gradually. There aren't any lines; just fuzzy borders. The shapes of things seem much larger, which gives them more meaning. Huh? No, that's not quite right...
I think what it is, is that the shapes of things matter more. They're more present tense... they make a deeper imprint upon the moment. I don't know if that actually means anything, but things definitely give that impression of being something more than normal. Just the regular shapes of things soaked in the strange, diffuse un-light of the cloudlight.
Then... just now, only a few moments ago, I saw something that made me inhale sharply, and then...
...
!
...
That is, uh...
Ok.
I'll try to describe it as if this 'event' were giving me precise commands on how exactly to react. Here goes...
Inhale quickly and deeply, then involuntarily close your throat with a glottal stop; abrupt and important, fixating the act of breathing upon one enduring moment. Then really remember it the way it was...
So there I was, watching a column of low, bent over clouds of a bright orange-ish pink color march across a background of dark burnt umber. Then the farthest horizon beyond that orange procession was suddenly lit up with this hellish, unearthly and terrifying stroke of light, a narrow band that seemed to be only a precursor to the possibility of much more of itself that remained hidden beyond the horizon. Above, it was cut off by a relative darkness consisting of higher, closer clouds that formed an abrupt ceiling to the light. And inside that narrow, squashed place of orange where this was happening, it was... it was Armageddon, as it would look from a thousand miles away. It was a white lightening, with an orange afterglow that lit up and touched... geez, from my point of view... about a third of horizon. It may not sound like much, but it's all and more than I could see. It spread out through the fading orange expanse even further with white filaments like tree branches, or blood veins, or like an ancient river of ice on Mars reflecting the sunlight. A blinding electric fractal that scored the sky, leaving a complex afterimage of dancing purple furrows.
I stop my remembering now to remember why I wanted to describe this. And so I stop, and look up, and... there it is, all over again. Beauty, indescribable. And now I realize that I insult it by attempting to record the experience by shaping the memory of it with words, but I'm compelled to do it anyway.
Chaotic shapes form lines in three dimensions to a vanishing point, and the experience of watching this thing that I've been trying to describe here is just so satisfying. I'm seeing it, and it's talking itself to me the way that I wish I could be saying this to you.
A bunch of innane drivel shaped exactly like bullshit... or, A whirling device of intricate metal comprised of razor blades and salt shakers.
Okay, so I'm wandering around aimlessly at night after work as I'm
wont to do, and I'm reading some retarded crap that took place on
Facebook the other day - a back and forth between myself and another
mutual moron regarding some incontestable data of a factual nature
acquired by the NASA Dawn probe, and just recently released to the
public concerning the functional dynamics of a primordial wormhole
connecting the dwarf planet Ceres to an alien quantum spaghetti
maker/booger zapper/high power laser launching facility/bagel toaster
and cream cheese, via the 11th dimension, and I'm guffawing my stupid
head off.
So, as this was happening, I was of course ambulatory and not necessarily paying any attention to anything whatsoever. This being the case, I was just about to step off of the curb and into the street. Or the boulevard, actually. Carroll Blvd. Who knew Carroll was a boulevard? Did anybody know that? To me, it's always been just Carroll. Like... take a left on Carroll.
Hey now, wait a second... I do believe that my android phone just displayed some remarkably intelligent initiative! You know what happened? Well, lemme tell you. Firstly, I'm using my phone's voice recognition thingy instead of manually inputting all of these words. I mean, swype typing is really cool and all, but talk typing is even cooler because you're using vibrating molecules of air as your input method. Anywho.
What happened was that the first couple of times I mentioned Carroll, my phone spelled it 'carol'. So I had to go back and manually type in the way it's spelled as the street name. Pardon me... boulevard. But what was really cool was that after typing it in a couple of times, it started to spell Carroll the way it's spelled as a street name. Carol! Wait, now it's retarded again...
What was this about in the first place? Oh, the curb! So anyway... yeah. I would have stepped off of the curb and right onto the road, or into... which is it? Onto or into?
Hang on. You can't step into a road, can you? You can step into the path of something ON the road, and you can step into the path of a truck, for instance, which is ON the road. You can even step INTO the truck, thus commandeering it's use for your own purpose, such as swerving out of your own way as you step onto the road and into your own path... that is, the path of the truck. The same truck that you're driving upon the same road upon which or onto which you're stepping... that is, the same road which the path (of the truck) into which you are stepping, and (the truck) which you stepped into (it's a stepside dually) lies upon, making a single moment comprised of simultaneously stepping into the path, into the truck, onto the road, and onto the path (at the same time), in the form of stepping, concurrently necessitating the stepping of (that is, the stepping of that which steps) onto a path, as well as into a path, which naturally and inevitably and logically leads to a series of descriptions (in the brain that is, via a neural highway system) a series of descriptions describing the connective properties of certain (purely imaginative) time-like events, all of which serve to demonstrate that the purposeful act of merely, yet forcibly, acknowledging that the existence of a concept pertaining to a hypothetical idea regarding the unlikely probability that, given an elementary basis which supports a fundamental proof of any given idea which - hypothetically speaking, and having been given a proper impetus, naturally exacerbated by the motive characteristics of an operandi - may (or may not) lead to several identical postulations describing the same notion (or notions), erroneous and unassailable, that the mere thought, concept, idea, plan, suggestion, intention, or even the factual, physical ACT of stepping INTO a road is just about not exactly the same as impossible. That is, rarely. And only from a few extremely precise and inherently unlikely points of view. But the basic premise regarding the logical possibility that all the shit I just said, simultaneously conceptualized and singularly executed, may illustrate the pure nature of the pristine thought... never wrought yet forever sought, taught for nought, then caught, fought over and bought, and finally shit on, shat on and shot... will forever stand on a beautiful pillar of corroded sauerkraut.
So...
Here are some actual real things that actually exist that you can really step into in real life, other than whatever the heck all that shit was up there that just got through being said.
A hole, of course. You can also step into a pile of dog shit, or a whirling device of intricate metal comprised of razor blades and salt shakers.
An awkward situation. A new identity, or a new skin. Figuratively or literally.
You can definitely step into a parlor, or an office. You can step into a wall, or even through a wall, via the stepping of into a doorway... but one thing I know for sure that you definitely CANNOT step into is a threshold. You also can't step into things which are necessarily under a certain size, or impossibly out of reach or motile. I mean, there has to be some kind of limit to all of this bullshit, or else things will just get really stupider and stupider.
Carroll Boulevard (it spelled it right that time, heck yeah!)
Oh yeah! Here's what I originally wanted to say way back at the beginning, before things got out of hand. So, as I was saying... there I was, laughing my butt off and just about to step right into the big ass middle of the road, and then I heard laughter off to my right. I stopped and looked, and there was this car full of girlies that I hadn't even noticed, parked right next to me and with all of the windows down. The girlie in the front seat was looking at me with this puzzled looking smile, like she wanted to be let in on the joke. That made me laugh some more, and then she started laughing, and then the entire car full of girlies started laughing...
So that's the way it was for about five seconds, with all of them just laughing and smiling and looking right at me, and me laughing and smiling back. And then I stepped right in front of an 18 wheeler and got scrubbed all over the boulevard.
So, as this was happening, I was of course ambulatory and not necessarily paying any attention to anything whatsoever. This being the case, I was just about to step off of the curb and into the street. Or the boulevard, actually. Carroll Blvd. Who knew Carroll was a boulevard? Did anybody know that? To me, it's always been just Carroll. Like... take a left on Carroll.
Hey now, wait a second... I do believe that my android phone just displayed some remarkably intelligent initiative! You know what happened? Well, lemme tell you. Firstly, I'm using my phone's voice recognition thingy instead of manually inputting all of these words. I mean, swype typing is really cool and all, but talk typing is even cooler because you're using vibrating molecules of air as your input method. Anywho.
What happened was that the first couple of times I mentioned Carroll, my phone spelled it 'carol'. So I had to go back and manually type in the way it's spelled as the street name. Pardon me... boulevard. But what was really cool was that after typing it in a couple of times, it started to spell Carroll the way it's spelled as a street name. Carol! Wait, now it's retarded again...
What was this about in the first place? Oh, the curb! So anyway... yeah. I would have stepped off of the curb and right onto the road, or into... which is it? Onto or into?
Hang on. You can't step into a road, can you? You can step into the path of something ON the road, and you can step into the path of a truck, for instance, which is ON the road. You can even step INTO the truck, thus commandeering it's use for your own purpose, such as swerving out of your own way as you step onto the road and into your own path... that is, the path of the truck. The same truck that you're driving upon the same road upon which or onto which you're stepping... that is, the same road which the path (of the truck) into which you are stepping, and (the truck) which you stepped into (it's a stepside dually) lies upon, making a single moment comprised of simultaneously stepping into the path, into the truck, onto the road, and onto the path (at the same time), in the form of stepping, concurrently necessitating the stepping of (that is, the stepping of that which steps) onto a path, as well as into a path, which naturally and inevitably and logically leads to a series of descriptions (in the brain that is, via a neural highway system) a series of descriptions describing the connective properties of certain (purely imaginative) time-like events, all of which serve to demonstrate that the purposeful act of merely, yet forcibly, acknowledging that the existence of a concept pertaining to a hypothetical idea regarding the unlikely probability that, given an elementary basis which supports a fundamental proof of any given idea which - hypothetically speaking, and having been given a proper impetus, naturally exacerbated by the motive characteristics of an operandi - may (or may not) lead to several identical postulations describing the same notion (or notions), erroneous and unassailable, that the mere thought, concept, idea, plan, suggestion, intention, or even the factual, physical ACT of stepping INTO a road is just about not exactly the same as impossible. That is, rarely. And only from a few extremely precise and inherently unlikely points of view. But the basic premise regarding the logical possibility that all the shit I just said, simultaneously conceptualized and singularly executed, may illustrate the pure nature of the pristine thought... never wrought yet forever sought, taught for nought, then caught, fought over and bought, and finally shit on, shat on and shot... will forever stand on a beautiful pillar of corroded sauerkraut.
So...
Here are some actual real things that actually exist that you can really step into in real life, other than whatever the heck all that shit was up there that just got through being said.
A hole, of course. You can also step into a pile of dog shit, or a whirling device of intricate metal comprised of razor blades and salt shakers.
An awkward situation. A new identity, or a new skin. Figuratively or literally.
You can definitely step into a parlor, or an office. You can step into a wall, or even through a wall, via the stepping of into a doorway... but one thing I know for sure that you definitely CANNOT step into is a threshold. You also can't step into things which are necessarily under a certain size, or impossibly out of reach or motile. I mean, there has to be some kind of limit to all of this bullshit, or else things will just get really stupider and stupider.
Carroll Boulevard (it spelled it right that time, heck yeah!)
Oh yeah! Here's what I originally wanted to say way back at the beginning, before things got out of hand. So, as I was saying... there I was, laughing my butt off and just about to step right into the big ass middle of the road, and then I heard laughter off to my right. I stopped and looked, and there was this car full of girlies that I hadn't even noticed, parked right next to me and with all of the windows down. The girlie in the front seat was looking at me with this puzzled looking smile, like she wanted to be let in on the joke. That made me laugh some more, and then she started laughing, and then the entire car full of girlies started laughing...
So that's the way it was for about five seconds, with all of them just laughing and smiling and looking right at me, and me laughing and smiling back. And then I stepped right in front of an 18 wheeler and got scrubbed all over the boulevard.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Those mother f'íng sonofabitching stomach greeblies
Yesterday afternoon as I was getting ready for work, and about half an hour before I had to be there, the stomach greeblies decided to pay me a little visit. It's been some time since they last showed up en masse, and I'd begun to think that maybe they'd gotten tired of the same ol' duodejunilium, and had up and moved on to greener pastures. Or smoother muscles or whatever.
'Tweren't the case though, because they just barged right in and commenced to making noise and breaking things and cuttin' up and being downright ornery. They weren't just kidding around either, because they'd brought their favorite toys with them, and by 2:00 it was party time with knives out.
This doesn't happen very often, and even less often at work, but when it does happen at work I'll invariably turn into a real son-of-a-bitch and take it out on the customers. Which naturally pisses everybody off, because I don't particularly like myself when I'm being an incredible shit heel, and they (the customers, that is) don't deserve or particularly like to be forced into having to deal with one. Pardon my French. Which tends to happen at work when I'm in an especially bad mood, or you know... in the throes of mortal agony.
For two hours, whilst enduring a relentless onslaught of knife-wielding stomach greeblies, I delivered a stalwart cavalcade of mindless, half-intended insults disguised as honest vocabulistics bubbled through gritted teeth to an intermittent procession of occasionally confused, sometimes frightened, mainly oblivious 7-Eleven patrons. It was at some time around then thereabouts that I convinced myself sufficiently that the simple act of standing up at the register was is and has been always and forevermore a minor heroic deed, so I did everybody a favor, except for Chiy (sorry Chiy!), and went home. The heroes journey. Home. Heroes inevitably give up, you know. Just nobody writes about that.
So I stumbled home and kind of deflated into a withered heap onto my bed, on my back. I felt supremely motionless, I felt sweaty and cold, I still felt the knives too, and I felt tired, but mostly I felt relieved. But underneath all of that, under each feeling equally, I felt like a real piece of shiznat for leaving Chiy there to deal with the mudholes I'd stomped into everything... you know. Eventually I fell asleep.
When this kind of thing happens, and at this intensity of pain, I find that if I lie perfectly still on my back, it helps a lot. Usually I'll do this and wind up falling asleep after about an hour, and I'll wake up an hour or two later, sweaty and exhausted, but pain free. That's what happened yesterday afternoon. I finally fell asleep at about 5:00 and slept until 7:00. When I was pretty sure that the pain had gone for good, I got up and sat on the edge of my bed for about 15 minutes. After that I'd decided that I was feeling well enough to give work another go, so off I went.
Anywho, all of that is just a lead up to this thing that happened later, as I was sweeping the parking lot. What happened was, I was sweeping the parking lot...
I gotta get to work, I'll finish this tomorrow.
'Tweren't the case though, because they just barged right in and commenced to making noise and breaking things and cuttin' up and being downright ornery. They weren't just kidding around either, because they'd brought their favorite toys with them, and by 2:00 it was party time with knives out.
This doesn't happen very often, and even less often at work, but when it does happen at work I'll invariably turn into a real son-of-a-bitch and take it out on the customers. Which naturally pisses everybody off, because I don't particularly like myself when I'm being an incredible shit heel, and they (the customers, that is) don't deserve or particularly like to be forced into having to deal with one. Pardon my French. Which tends to happen at work when I'm in an especially bad mood, or you know... in the throes of mortal agony.
For two hours, whilst enduring a relentless onslaught of knife-wielding stomach greeblies, I delivered a stalwart cavalcade of mindless, half-intended insults disguised as honest vocabulistics bubbled through gritted teeth to an intermittent procession of occasionally confused, sometimes frightened, mainly oblivious 7-Eleven patrons. It was at some time around then thereabouts that I convinced myself sufficiently that the simple act of standing up at the register was is and has been always and forevermore a minor heroic deed, so I did everybody a favor, except for Chiy (sorry Chiy!), and went home. The heroes journey. Home. Heroes inevitably give up, you know. Just nobody writes about that.
So I stumbled home and kind of deflated into a withered heap onto my bed, on my back. I felt supremely motionless, I felt sweaty and cold, I still felt the knives too, and I felt tired, but mostly I felt relieved. But underneath all of that, under each feeling equally, I felt like a real piece of shiznat for leaving Chiy there to deal with the mudholes I'd stomped into everything... you know. Eventually I fell asleep.
When this kind of thing happens, and at this intensity of pain, I find that if I lie perfectly still on my back, it helps a lot. Usually I'll do this and wind up falling asleep after about an hour, and I'll wake up an hour or two later, sweaty and exhausted, but pain free. That's what happened yesterday afternoon. I finally fell asleep at about 5:00 and slept until 7:00. When I was pretty sure that the pain had gone for good, I got up and sat on the edge of my bed for about 15 minutes. After that I'd decided that I was feeling well enough to give work another go, so off I went.
Anywho, all of that is just a lead up to this thing that happened later, as I was sweeping the parking lot. What happened was, I was sweeping the parking lot...
I gotta get to work, I'll finish this tomorrow.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
A dream - light years away
I and six others were to be the first people to travel to another star. We had been provided a ship, and it was ready, and I was preparing to leave. My sister, Chey, was helping me pack my clothes. As I was rolling up socks, I realized something with a shock and said, "Chey, I'm going to go down in history." She replied, "No, only the others who follow you will... the ones who do the building." "But as one of the first people to travel to another star, I'll surely be remembered for that." Chey stopped folding clothes and looked at me. "You're right, wow, you're right."
I took a shower and put on my church clothes and was ready to go. The only thing left to pack was a few pairs of socks. My brother Matt was there to wish me goodbye, and I handed him my newest pair of socks. They hadn't even been rolled up yet. "Here, brother. Take these. They're brand new and really comfortable." Matt took the socks, and we shook hands. "I'll be light years away, but you'll have these socks. We'll stay connected."
Then I said goodbye to mom, and dad, and all the rest of the fam, hugged everybody, looked at myself in the mirror, picked up my bags and got on the ship.
I took a shower and put on my church clothes and was ready to go. The only thing left to pack was a few pairs of socks. My brother Matt was there to wish me goodbye, and I handed him my newest pair of socks. They hadn't even been rolled up yet. "Here, brother. Take these. They're brand new and really comfortable." Matt took the socks, and we shook hands. "I'll be light years away, but you'll have these socks. We'll stay connected."
Then I said goodbye to mom, and dad, and all the rest of the fam, hugged everybody, looked at myself in the mirror, picked up my bags and got on the ship.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Rambling about
It's a strange night tonight. Almost the exact opposite of last night. Last night we had lightning and thunder, and very little wind... but tonight it's quiet and still, but the wind is blowing pretty good. It's a strange juxtaposition. The clouds are really low tonight, which ironically makes everything brighter. It's a radiosity solution caused by the lights of the city bouncing off of the low clouds and, in turn, illuminating everything underneath. Why doesn't this always happen when it's overcast? It's because of the inverse square law.
I just saw a little bit of lightning, a little flash off to the northwest. I guess its coming this way. According to the Doppler radar on my weather app, it's pretty far off to the west, but then again it also shows new storms just popping into existence here in there. Maybe that'll happen here. I hope not. I don't like walking in the rain.
Yup, it's definitely lightninging in the clouds here. There ain't no thunder though, so for now I guess it's just the light of lightning from eons away just bouncing from cloud to cloud until it's all the way over here. How do you spell lightning anyway? Is it lightening, or lightning? I think it's lightning, without the E.
Some parts of the sky are orange, and some are almost white... relatively anyway, compared to the dark gray of everything else. I'm beginning to be able to see the shapes of clouds now. The ones in the distance are like the long rows of cumulus clouds that you would see in the daytime, but instead of blue there is an ubiquitous gray field behind them. Lighter shapes of clouds against darker background. But when the lightning flashes it becomes a negative image of itself. Heck, the negative image is probably the real one, because it's the one that's actually being lit up.
I'm wearing a backpack, and there's a 4-Loko in there, resting at the bottom and underneath all of my personal detritus. I can feel the coldness of it pressing against the top of my ass. Right there above the butt crack. It's beginning to become slightly uncomfortable. Yeah, it's a coldness right there, and every now and then it bounces as I trip over a branch or step into a depression or a hole or run across the highway. I'm thinking that I should just open the stupid thing and drink it. Problem solved. Right? Am I right? Or am I right? Am I right or am I right or am I right or am i right? I forgot what that's from. Some movie. The 'am I right' thing. Oh yeah! It was Groundhog Day!
Does anybody else do that? Incorporate a line from a movie, or a song, into your verbal expression algorithms to such an extent that it becomes an integral part of your personality? I do. Here's an example:
LOCK ZE DOORLS, AND HOPE ZEY DON'T HAVE ZE BLASTELS!
Yeah. That's a scene from Star Wars, with a fake French accent. That's an old one... I don't use it that much anymore, but it's part of my original repertoire.
Here's another:
Watchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis? I still use that one all the time. Here's another that's really vague. You definitely won't get it, that is, unless you've recently read 'The Drawing of the Three' by Stephen King. What it is, is that I call tuna fish 'Tooter Fish'. If you read the book, maybe you'll know what I mean.
There are tons more... but the weather is about to get me.
I just saw a little bit of lightning, a little flash off to the northwest. I guess its coming this way. According to the Doppler radar on my weather app, it's pretty far off to the west, but then again it also shows new storms just popping into existence here in there. Maybe that'll happen here. I hope not. I don't like walking in the rain.
Yup, it's definitely lightninging in the clouds here. There ain't no thunder though, so for now I guess it's just the light of lightning from eons away just bouncing from cloud to cloud until it's all the way over here. How do you spell lightning anyway? Is it lightening, or lightning? I think it's lightning, without the E.
Some parts of the sky are orange, and some are almost white... relatively anyway, compared to the dark gray of everything else. I'm beginning to be able to see the shapes of clouds now. The ones in the distance are like the long rows of cumulus clouds that you would see in the daytime, but instead of blue there is an ubiquitous gray field behind them. Lighter shapes of clouds against darker background. But when the lightning flashes it becomes a negative image of itself. Heck, the negative image is probably the real one, because it's the one that's actually being lit up.
I'm wearing a backpack, and there's a 4-Loko in there, resting at the bottom and underneath all of my personal detritus. I can feel the coldness of it pressing against the top of my ass. Right there above the butt crack. It's beginning to become slightly uncomfortable. Yeah, it's a coldness right there, and every now and then it bounces as I trip over a branch or step into a depression or a hole or run across the highway. I'm thinking that I should just open the stupid thing and drink it. Problem solved. Right? Am I right? Or am I right? Am I right or am I right or am I right or am i right? I forgot what that's from. Some movie. The 'am I right' thing. Oh yeah! It was Groundhog Day!
Does anybody else do that? Incorporate a line from a movie, or a song, into your verbal expression algorithms to such an extent that it becomes an integral part of your personality? I do. Here's an example:
LOCK ZE DOORLS, AND HOPE ZEY DON'T HAVE ZE BLASTELS!
Yeah. That's a scene from Star Wars, with a fake French accent. That's an old one... I don't use it that much anymore, but it's part of my original repertoire.
Here's another:
Watchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis? I still use that one all the time. Here's another that's really vague. You definitely won't get it, that is, unless you've recently read 'The Drawing of the Three' by Stephen King. What it is, is that I call tuna fish 'Tooter Fish'. If you read the book, maybe you'll know what I mean.
There are tons more... but the weather is about to get me.
Thursday, May 14, 2015
A dream - Jerral is dead
I had a dream about Jerral. I was at this party-type get-together, with all of the fam, and friends from the old days. It was such a surprise to see Jerral walk up, just this huge, barrel-chested shape, unmistakable with his arms kind of out to the sides, just resting there on his massive chest muscles. Jerral walking up, looking like he always did. So huge and intimidating, unless you knew him. There he was, walking toward me with a big smile, looking like he did the last time I saw him. And I thought to myself, how stupid I've been, to ever think that he was dead.
The Scientist
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eliash
My Interpretation:
This song is about a broken relationship. How do I know? Because I know what this certain kind of broken relationship, the one the song is talking about, feels like. For anyone who has been through this, the lyrics describe it perfectly, and it's pretty much unmistakable. It's all about a guy (or a girl, I suppose) who is so very sorry that he screwed things up and wants to just erase the huge mistakes he made and go back to the start of the relationship, back when everything was ok and when she still loved him, and he is tortured by the memory of when she used to tell him things about herself and ask him questions about himself, about his life, his story... you know... the way it was at the beginning when she was excited and wanted to know everything about him and he was her world. And he's remembering those times, and how it was back than... especially how she said she loved him, how she used to say it all the time, and how he thought so little of it at the time, and how he never hears her say it anymore, and never will again... and now it haunts him, because he remembers her saying it now, he hears it in his head incessantly... he actually hears it now and pays attention to it now, now when she doesn't want him anymore. And he remembers all of the magic at the beginning, how it was then, when everything seemed perfect, and he understands his mistake... how he played the part of the scientist. How he took her for granted, thinking that her love would be as reliable and logical as a machine, not even realizing that he wasn't giving her the love and understanding and emotion that she needed... and how he analyzed everything and came up with logical reasons for all of the mistakes he made, making her seem wrong for just loving him and feeling hurt when he hurt her, and how he realizes now how he was letting their future love be decided by something as meaningless as a flip of the coin. The flip of a stupid switch. Logical statistics. And now he would give anything to just go back to the beginning and start over again, but it will never happen. His apologies are too late, his confession is too late, his realization is too late. He was the scientist instead of the lover, and he's lost her, and it's over, and he never ever knew, never ever had an inkling of how hard it would be without her.
2 Years Ago
8 Replies
Very true, she hurts too...it doesn't go away no matter how many miles, years we put between ourselves. We can never get back to where we were. And that hurts.
toritide · 2 Years Ago
Spot on!
vengefor · 2 Years Ago
You touched my heart... I respect your explanation !!!! Thanks to you I am able to tell the guy I love what I feel for him... First I had my doubts about our relationship. But it's true : DONT BE A SCIENTIST, BE A LOVER !!!! So happy that I read your part.. Thanks to you I have to courage and motivation to hold on this love. Thank you !!! God bless you !! Greetings from Amsterdam
Evolet · 1 Year Ago
you know i should have listened to this song awhile ago i'm a very similar situation. i'm kind of a "scientist" myself and when i heard your reply it kind of touched me I never really realized it but yes even a year after i cant forget this person and this song kind of helps me out you know. it reminds me im not alone out there and she might feel the same. remember i said similar situation its complicated.
TheSkepticCatholic · 1 Year Ago
Thank you eliash for writing what you did... you captured my experience as well, of course with slight variations. But the core is exactly the same. Maybe men tend to be scientific and very concerned with what is correct and wrong, because that is how we make it in the working world, and "manage" our surroundings. But that approach is not helpful in a relationship... and sometimes we learn too late. I am working on being able to do better next time, but the memories keep lingering. One other thing that might help -- sometimes the woman (and these behaviors do have some gender aspect in them) gets swept away initially and does not communicate well later, when she is not getting what she wants, and then suddenly says "It's over" and then it is too late. It is not all "his" fault, but that is not much consolation when missing the past.
PlanetThoughts · 1 Year Ago
Uhm.. Does that relationship end up crashing..? If there is someone in that type of relationship and the two are constantly just bickering and trying to keep it together because they both are trying to get over ones mistake together.. They really want to work it out but its so hard... Do those relationships typically end or have a crashing ending..?
turtle2312 · 11 Months Ago
Very very true! When I was pregnant on my way to work I would cry like mad. His scientist had taken over and become mad and only got worse later. While I admit I am a bad communicator and bad showing my feelings they were always there. But Mr. Jekyll literally became Dr. Hyde. I wish for the beginning to but know I can never go back. Beautiful interpretation.
gwaziii · 9 Months Ago
@eliash wow. I love the way you explained it. I've actually been in this exact kind of situation and I was the one who got screwed over by the guy. Now I hope he feels the way the guy in this song does but I feel like I'm more hurt than he is.
kelseyp07 · 1 Month Ago
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SongMeanings
Copyright 1999-2013
About Terms
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eliash
My Interpretation:
This song is about a broken relationship. How do I know? Because I know what this certain kind of broken relationship, the one the song is talking about, feels like. For anyone who has been through this, the lyrics describe it perfectly, and it's pretty much unmistakable. It's all about a guy (or a girl, I suppose) who is so very sorry that he screwed things up and wants to just erase the huge mistakes he made and go back to the start of the relationship, back when everything was ok and when she still loved him, and he is tortured by the memory of when she used to tell him things about herself and ask him questions about himself, about his life, his story... you know... the way it was at the beginning when she was excited and wanted to know everything about him and he was her world. And he's remembering those times, and how it was back than... especially how she said she loved him, how she used to say it all the time, and how he thought so little of it at the time, and how he never hears her say it anymore, and never will again... and now it haunts him, because he remembers her saying it now, he hears it in his head incessantly... he actually hears it now and pays attention to it now, now when she doesn't want him anymore. And he remembers all of the magic at the beginning, how it was then, when everything seemed perfect, and he understands his mistake... how he played the part of the scientist. How he took her for granted, thinking that her love would be as reliable and logical as a machine, not even realizing that he wasn't giving her the love and understanding and emotion that she needed... and how he analyzed everything and came up with logical reasons for all of the mistakes he made, making her seem wrong for just loving him and feeling hurt when he hurt her, and how he realizes now how he was letting their future love be decided by something as meaningless as a flip of the coin. The flip of a stupid switch. Logical statistics. And now he would give anything to just go back to the beginning and start over again, but it will never happen. His apologies are too late, his confession is too late, his realization is too late. He was the scientist instead of the lover, and he's lost her, and it's over, and he never ever knew, never ever had an inkling of how hard it would be without her.
2 Years Ago
8 Replies
Very true, she hurts too...it doesn't go away no matter how many miles, years we put between ourselves. We can never get back to where we were. And that hurts.
toritide · 2 Years Ago
Spot on!
vengefor · 2 Years Ago
You touched my heart... I respect your explanation !!!! Thanks to you I am able to tell the guy I love what I feel for him... First I had my doubts about our relationship. But it's true : DONT BE A SCIENTIST, BE A LOVER !!!! So happy that I read your part.. Thanks to you I have to courage and motivation to hold on this love. Thank you !!! God bless you !! Greetings from Amsterdam
Evolet · 1 Year Ago
you know i should have listened to this song awhile ago i'm a very similar situation. i'm kind of a "scientist" myself and when i heard your reply it kind of touched me I never really realized it but yes even a year after i cant forget this person and this song kind of helps me out you know. it reminds me im not alone out there and she might feel the same. remember i said similar situation its complicated.
TheSkepticCatholic · 1 Year Ago
Thank you eliash for writing what you did... you captured my experience as well, of course with slight variations. But the core is exactly the same. Maybe men tend to be scientific and very concerned with what is correct and wrong, because that is how we make it in the working world, and "manage" our surroundings. But that approach is not helpful in a relationship... and sometimes we learn too late. I am working on being able to do better next time, but the memories keep lingering. One other thing that might help -- sometimes the woman (and these behaviors do have some gender aspect in them) gets swept away initially and does not communicate well later, when she is not getting what she wants, and then suddenly says "It's over" and then it is too late. It is not all "his" fault, but that is not much consolation when missing the past.
PlanetThoughts · 1 Year Ago
Uhm.. Does that relationship end up crashing..? If there is someone in that type of relationship and the two are constantly just bickering and trying to keep it together because they both are trying to get over ones mistake together.. They really want to work it out but its so hard... Do those relationships typically end or have a crashing ending..?
turtle2312 · 11 Months Ago
Very very true! When I was pregnant on my way to work I would cry like mad. His scientist had taken over and become mad and only got worse later. While I admit I am a bad communicator and bad showing my feelings they were always there. But Mr. Jekyll literally became Dr. Hyde. I wish for the beginning to but know I can never go back. Beautiful interpretation.
gwaziii · 9 Months Ago
@eliash wow. I love the way you explained it. I've actually been in this exact kind of situation and I was the one who got screwed over by the guy. Now I hope he feels the way the guy in this song does but I feel like I'm more hurt than he is.
kelseyp07 · 1 Month Ago
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SongMeanings
Copyright 1999-2013
About Terms
How it feels
I'm thinking about dying.
I'm considering the end.
I'm wondering about it.
I'm wondering what happens to the music in my head.
I'm worrying about that.
I care that my memories might disappear.
I'm afraid I might be wrong.
I'm afraid of hell.
I'm thinking of all the people I've damaged.
I'm thinking of all the beauty in the world.
I'm thinking of my little tiny self.
I'm thinking of eating a hamburger.
I'm hoping my life is worth something on the plus side of the gray misty source of all phenomena.
I'm thinking of my favorite joke.
A bear and a rabbit were taking a shit in the woods. The bear turned to the rabbit and said,, "Say, do you have problems with shit sticking to your fur?" "No," replied the rabbit, so the bear wiped his ass with the rabbit.
I'm laughing.
Oh God, why is that so funny?
Is it the nonchalant way that the bear just uses the rabbit as a personal waste disposal device, just moments after acknowledging it as a fellow intelligence? Is it that surprisingly blatant and purposefully disdainful categorization of a fellow and brother as a mere piece of trash?
Why is that so funny?
Oh God, why is its so funny when the bear wipes its ass with the rabbit?
11qq
Then the weather started doing this crazy thing, but first, something out of a happy ending happened, is what happened... I found my umbrella, which had been lost in Denton for weeks, and right then... Oh my God, everything went to hell in a hand basket right then.
Wow. Just... Wow. Wow, fucking wow! The wind was like a wall, a wall, a wall! Holy SHIT! I thought, and holy crap, holy crap, I'm blinded and what was that, oh shit. I can't believe what's happening, I can't see, and... and... wait, there's Jupiter, right there. Right over there, on the clear western horizon, with stars. I must must be dreaming. Everything besides the western horizon is going to hell, so I must be dreaming.
This is one of those rare real moments. An instant memory which keeps going as a moment, somehow. It's everything about the moment. Damn... it's the night, the lack of light, the temperature of the air, the movement of the air as it moves over and past my skin, and just the sound of it, humid and cool. That can't possibly be a real thing that I'm experiencing and remembering right now.
It has to be a dream.
Everything feels like a dream now.
See, this is what I'm talking about.
And all I can think of now, is, how can this be real, how can this be real, how can this be real.
I'm considering the end.
I'm wondering about it.
I'm wondering what happens to the music in my head.
I'm worrying about that.
I care that my memories might disappear.
I'm afraid I might be wrong.
I'm afraid of hell.
I'm thinking of all the people I've damaged.
I'm thinking of all the beauty in the world.
I'm thinking of my little tiny self.
I'm thinking of eating a hamburger.
I'm hoping my life is worth something on the plus side of the gray misty source of all phenomena.
I'm thinking of my favorite joke.
A bear and a rabbit were taking a shit in the woods. The bear turned to the rabbit and said,, "Say, do you have problems with shit sticking to your fur?" "No," replied the rabbit, so the bear wiped his ass with the rabbit.
I'm laughing.
Oh God, why is that so funny?
Is it the nonchalant way that the bear just uses the rabbit as a personal waste disposal device, just moments after acknowledging it as a fellow intelligence? Is it that surprisingly blatant and purposefully disdainful categorization of a fellow and brother as a mere piece of trash?
Why is that so funny?
Oh God, why is its so funny when the bear wipes its ass with the rabbit?
11qq
Then the weather started doing this crazy thing, but first, something out of a happy ending happened, is what happened... I found my umbrella, which had been lost in Denton for weeks, and right then... Oh my God, everything went to hell in a hand basket right then.
Wow. Just... Wow. Wow, fucking wow! The wind was like a wall, a wall, a wall! Holy SHIT! I thought, and holy crap, holy crap, I'm blinded and what was that, oh shit. I can't believe what's happening, I can't see, and... and... wait, there's Jupiter, right there. Right over there, on the clear western horizon, with stars. I must must be dreaming. Everything besides the western horizon is going to hell, so I must be dreaming.
This is one of those rare real moments. An instant memory which keeps going as a moment, somehow. It's everything about the moment. Damn... it's the night, the lack of light, the temperature of the air, the movement of the air as it moves over and past my skin, and just the sound of it, humid and cool. That can't possibly be a real thing that I'm experiencing and remembering right now.
It has to be a dream.
Everything feels like a dream now.
See, this is what I'm talking about.
And all I can think of now, is, how can this be real, how can this be real, how can this be real.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Where there is life, there is hope.
Earlier I watched A Theory of Everything, the movie about Stephen
Hawking, one of my childhood heroes, alongside Isaac Asimov and Carl
Sagan. At the end, he was asked where he drew his strength from,
considering his illness, and he replied, where there is life, there is
hope. This struck me particularly at that moment as profound, as life
seems to weigh down on me from all sides with despair, almost all the
time... mainly because of my addiction. It truly is a hideous thing
to have strapped to you. Slavery, permanent bondage, is what it is to
me, and those thoughts rose up when I heard those words from that movie.
But am I not alive? I kind of marveled at the seeming contradiction
of being alive and being an addict; that life is the medium of my
addiction, but where there is life, there is hope. It didn't make
sense, but it made me feel better.
Then later, as I was walking to the store, I was reading The Way of a
Pilgrim again. Dax gave it to me for my birthday. I'd given my copy
away, as it was given to me. I'm tired of being separated, and I want
to be excited again, and that book is what first got me excited about
Orthodoxy. At the part where the pilgrim was robbed, he was in despair,
and was ruminating on how he would have been better off killed than
robbed of his Philokalia and Bible. When I read that, something in my
mind went 'hey'. It nagged at me, and I couldn't get rid of the
feeling. I had to stop reading to think about it; what it was that was
pushing at the bottom of my thoughts. Then I remembered, it was from
that movie I'd just watched. Is being an addict worse than having a
crippling disease? Is being robbed of your spiritual food worse than
being an addict? Is having a crippling disease worse than being robbed
of your spiritual food? But where there there is life, there is hope
for all of those things, I guess.
Monday, March 2, 2015
A dream - The night light and the day light
I was at the old homestead in Omaha, where I spent my formative
years. I was walking west on the old road that branches off of Davis
road, right where our old house used to be before it burned down; the
one that goes up to the highway where the sale barn is located. Hwy
259, I think. Whetmore is the name of that road. Like Percy Whetmore,
from The Green Mile.
It was night and the moon was full, just above the eastern horizon, and lighting up the world with that same, ethereal unearthly glow that comes when it snows, caused by the city lights bouncing around between the snow covered ground and the low lying clouds. I was happy. I walked west, reveling in the euphoric feeling of it, and fell asleep when I reached the highway.
When I awoke, it was broad daylight, and a crushing disappointment filled me. I only got one chance a year to experience the night light, and I'd just slept through it. I wanted to cry.
I stumbled outside and saw that the sun was up and shining, about 25 degrees above the horizon. I wanted to locate the moon in the daytime sky, to get an idea of how long I'd slept, so I drew a track with my eye from the horizon to the sun, intending to follow it until I found the moon. When my eye reached the part of the sky where the blue begins to disappear into the yellow-white of the suns glare, I got dizzy, and my vision blurred, and I fell to my hands and knees into a deep bank of pristine, white snow.
At first I was completely astounded. Did it snow again, while I was asleep? I looked up, and the landscape before me was like that of those terraced mountains in China, where they grow rice. You know the kind? Those terraces, like a bunch of flat surfaces, stacked on top of each other, gradually diminishing with height? It was like that, except instead of watery rice paddies, the surfaces were earthy and rich, interspersed with patches of green plant life and white snow banks. I was on my knees and up to my elbows in one of those banks.
I started to crawl forward, 'chuffing' - I know that isn't even a word, but the sound of it is right - my way forward through that fine loose powder. It was such a pleasure to do that, to chuff. Then I stood up to survey my surroundings properly, and when I saw it all, how perfect and beautiful the bright blue day was on this snowy earthen green terrace on the back of this tremendous alive thing, spinning through space and attached to that incredibly bright, god-like source hanging a few degrees above the horizon, I thought to myself, it IS a dream landscape! Just like the night light! I was so disappointed at first, but it really IS!
I was joyful all over again, and then I realized, that's why I'm so attracted to the night light, when it snows - because it's like a dream. And that's what my life has been like so often, for so long now. That dream feeling I get when I'm awake... like a memory of long ago, which has become a dream... the feeling of that, but right now, and enduring. That stagnant feeling of living in a vague, past memory of a former life, forever. And now I'm dreaming it. It's a forever kind of thing, comfortable and nasty.
It was night and the moon was full, just above the eastern horizon, and lighting up the world with that same, ethereal unearthly glow that comes when it snows, caused by the city lights bouncing around between the snow covered ground and the low lying clouds. I was happy. I walked west, reveling in the euphoric feeling of it, and fell asleep when I reached the highway.
When I awoke, it was broad daylight, and a crushing disappointment filled me. I only got one chance a year to experience the night light, and I'd just slept through it. I wanted to cry.
I stumbled outside and saw that the sun was up and shining, about 25 degrees above the horizon. I wanted to locate the moon in the daytime sky, to get an idea of how long I'd slept, so I drew a track with my eye from the horizon to the sun, intending to follow it until I found the moon. When my eye reached the part of the sky where the blue begins to disappear into the yellow-white of the suns glare, I got dizzy, and my vision blurred, and I fell to my hands and knees into a deep bank of pristine, white snow.
At first I was completely astounded. Did it snow again, while I was asleep? I looked up, and the landscape before me was like that of those terraced mountains in China, where they grow rice. You know the kind? Those terraces, like a bunch of flat surfaces, stacked on top of each other, gradually diminishing with height? It was like that, except instead of watery rice paddies, the surfaces were earthy and rich, interspersed with patches of green plant life and white snow banks. I was on my knees and up to my elbows in one of those banks.
I started to crawl forward, 'chuffing' - I know that isn't even a word, but the sound of it is right - my way forward through that fine loose powder. It was such a pleasure to do that, to chuff. Then I stood up to survey my surroundings properly, and when I saw it all, how perfect and beautiful the bright blue day was on this snowy earthen green terrace on the back of this tremendous alive thing, spinning through space and attached to that incredibly bright, god-like source hanging a few degrees above the horizon, I thought to myself, it IS a dream landscape! Just like the night light! I was so disappointed at first, but it really IS!
I was joyful all over again, and then I realized, that's why I'm so attracted to the night light, when it snows - because it's like a dream. And that's what my life has been like so often, for so long now. That dream feeling I get when I'm awake... like a memory of long ago, which has become a dream... the feeling of that, but right now, and enduring. That stagnant feeling of living in a vague, past memory of a former life, forever. And now I'm dreaming it. It's a forever kind of thing, comfortable and nasty.
Friday, February 20, 2015
It feels weird
It's like I'm living the dream of a memory. I don't know where all this feeling comes from. It seems so familiar. And so basically abstract, or simply huge, looming, permanent, above, over, simple and immediate and on top of you and then, it's a simple twitch, a small yank, and you can see so much further. You can see it all, and all of that stuff recedes into the distance, and now from far away it looks newly complex... but there are wide open spaces, green spaces, and the convoluted surface of this dream-like substrate becomes apparent. And it's all so simple when taken from a big wide distant vantage point, and suddenly not black but blue becomes the color of forever, and you never noticed that before. In the daylight there's dimension to all of this. It seems much more like a personal thing, a personal affront, instead of just this anonymous sufferingness. Everything is visible, and geez, it's like the most f'ed up deja vu you ever had, because everything everything is so obviously a visual average of every full color dream you've ever had, and every sight you've ever seen, and it becomes so clear that the feeling, that dream feeling, that feeling of a stagnant attractive comfortable hell which has been growing on the surface of your brain like a lichen for the past 13 years, that that feeling is an average of all the feelings you've ever felt, and that total emotion is named you. All added up together and divided by a bunch of years.
I know this sounds like, how can I be serious about this? Don't it sound retarded? But all of that is really really as close as I can get to putting it into words, how things really feel. It's weird, and it makes me feel crazy.
I know this sounds like, how can I be serious about this? Don't it sound retarded? But all of that is really really as close as I can get to putting it into words, how things really feel. It's weird, and it makes me feel crazy.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
What happened yesterday during my walk to Kroger
Earlier today, at about 4:30 in the afternoon, I was walking north on Fulton from Fry St. Kroger was my destination. Acquisition was my purpose. Sundries and accoutrements were my objective. Irritated was my mood, and defensive was my mindset. I had just woken up.
I was going to miss vigil again. I will most likely have already again missed vigil by the time this may or may not have been written. Since I'm writing it now, then it will have been missed after I will have thought about writing this, or after I would think, or would have thought, or will have thoughten to think about having wrought it, or after I had written it, hence it having already been wrought. I'm writing it now. I wrote it then. I missed. I miss it. I mean, I missed it, too.
Anyway. There's a high school on Fulton. Normally on Saturdays I don't have to negotiate the wiley wills of other motile meanderers, but for some incomprehensible purpose the kids were out in strength, and I had to look up from my eBook to negotiate a safe passage through the throngs.
I was almost to Crescent and had just gotten settled again with my eBook when, utilizing my peripheral vision, I sensed someone approaching from the left. My spacial awareness functions kicked in, and in their mysterious way, calculated that our paths would almost definitely intersect. I began my normal preparations for this type of event... I switched over to autopilot and went into lockdown mode, ready to defend my right-of- way against all transgressors. I looked up at the moment just before imminent collision for a last minute acquisition of data.
What I saw... what I saw was power. I saw something so strong, so immediate and demanding with its mere existence, so authentic and truthful and independent and needless of any weaponry or defensive strategy; something that wasn't playing the game... something so far above the game that even the idea of the game was rendered meaningless. Right there, directly in front of me, dismantling my projections, sequestering my variables, dividing my equations by zero, violating my momentum, usurping my impetus, manhandling my delta-v, discombobulating my geometry, unraveling my dimensions, warping my space-time, and interrupting the basic, uncomplicated math of my moment and assimilating it into the chaotic collective... right there in front of me, doing all that which I just laboriously described, about three feet and one and a half seconds away from imminent collision, was this smiling, radiant, beautiful, gloriously bright, youthful face, surrounded and framed by these glowing golden tresses, and in the middle of all that... eyes... her eyes. The shock of those eyes was completely unexpected. It was like being ambushed by a gentle and disarming benevolence, warm and inviting; lacking any trace of malice... those impossibly innocent portals into this soul that just happened to be standing before me, flung wide open and without shame. Those eyes. Inviting and trusting, naive and indestructible, and smiling.
When I looked up and saw those smiling eyes, it was like getting whacked on the side of my head with a reality stick, or a truth club, or a staff of revealing or something, and having all of the cobwebs in there - those things that confuse and complicate and tangle up and tie down my perception by crushing it all into this hard cornered, jagged kind of order; like trying to force together repelling magnetic poles - it was like having all of that cobweb covered crap just knocked right out of the other side of my head. It was like... there was that moment before, and then there was the head whacking moment, and then the moment after that... and the moment before was like a muddled dream, and the moment after was like being jerked violently wide awake. That's really what it was like. I shit you not.
All of my carefully crafted and calculated irritation vanished instantly, and I was dimly aware of a smile to match her own erupting across my face. There was maybe two seconds of pure honesty contained within those two seconds of eye contact, and then we passed each other; neither one of us breaking stride or missing a step.
I continued on with this goofy, dim witted, detached sort of grin plastered across the front side of my noggin, and I was giggling like a moron with my head shaking in this barely discernable gesture of not-quite-belief, muttering over and over to myself, at normal conversational volume:
"Holy cow, holy cow, holy cow..."
I was going to miss vigil again. I will most likely have already again missed vigil by the time this may or may not have been written. Since I'm writing it now, then it will have been missed after I will have thought about writing this, or after I would think, or would have thought, or will have thoughten to think about having wrought it, or after I had written it, hence it having already been wrought. I'm writing it now. I wrote it then. I missed. I miss it. I mean, I missed it, too.
Anyway. There's a high school on Fulton. Normally on Saturdays I don't have to negotiate the wiley wills of other motile meanderers, but for some incomprehensible purpose the kids were out in strength, and I had to look up from my eBook to negotiate a safe passage through the throngs.
I was almost to Crescent and had just gotten settled again with my eBook when, utilizing my peripheral vision, I sensed someone approaching from the left. My spacial awareness functions kicked in, and in their mysterious way, calculated that our paths would almost definitely intersect. I began my normal preparations for this type of event... I switched over to autopilot and went into lockdown mode, ready to defend my right-of- way against all transgressors. I looked up at the moment just before imminent collision for a last minute acquisition of data.
What I saw... what I saw was power. I saw something so strong, so immediate and demanding with its mere existence, so authentic and truthful and independent and needless of any weaponry or defensive strategy; something that wasn't playing the game... something so far above the game that even the idea of the game was rendered meaningless. Right there, directly in front of me, dismantling my projections, sequestering my variables, dividing my equations by zero, violating my momentum, usurping my impetus, manhandling my delta-v, discombobulating my geometry, unraveling my dimensions, warping my space-time, and interrupting the basic, uncomplicated math of my moment and assimilating it into the chaotic collective... right there in front of me, doing all that which I just laboriously described, about three feet and one and a half seconds away from imminent collision, was this smiling, radiant, beautiful, gloriously bright, youthful face, surrounded and framed by these glowing golden tresses, and in the middle of all that... eyes... her eyes. The shock of those eyes was completely unexpected. It was like being ambushed by a gentle and disarming benevolence, warm and inviting; lacking any trace of malice... those impossibly innocent portals into this soul that just happened to be standing before me, flung wide open and without shame. Those eyes. Inviting and trusting, naive and indestructible, and smiling.
When I looked up and saw those smiling eyes, it was like getting whacked on the side of my head with a reality stick, or a truth club, or a staff of revealing or something, and having all of the cobwebs in there - those things that confuse and complicate and tangle up and tie down my perception by crushing it all into this hard cornered, jagged kind of order; like trying to force together repelling magnetic poles - it was like having all of that cobweb covered crap just knocked right out of the other side of my head. It was like... there was that moment before, and then there was the head whacking moment, and then the moment after that... and the moment before was like a muddled dream, and the moment after was like being jerked violently wide awake. That's really what it was like. I shit you not.
All of my carefully crafted and calculated irritation vanished instantly, and I was dimly aware of a smile to match her own erupting across my face. There was maybe two seconds of pure honesty contained within those two seconds of eye contact, and then we passed each other; neither one of us breaking stride or missing a step.
I continued on with this goofy, dim witted, detached sort of grin plastered across the front side of my noggin, and I was giggling like a moron with my head shaking in this barely discernable gesture of not-quite-belief, muttering over and over to myself, at normal conversational volume:
"Holy cow, holy cow, holy cow..."
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Clouds
I wish somebody was here with me to see this. Nobody I've ever known has ever really been the type to get excited about this kind of stuff, so I've always gone out alone to seek this kind of thing... but I think if you just happened to see it, like a surprise, you'd be impressed.
What it is, is ice dust way up where the cirrus clouds form, lit up by moonlight. The winds up there are going from east to west. I can tell because there are clouds with streamers blowing off of them, like smoke blowing off of a smoke stack. It's a full moon, so those ice particles are lit up pretty good. There's a ring around the moon, about 20 degrees wide, and those long streamers of clouds are blowing through that circle, with the full moon right in the middle. They look like contrails. It's a pretty clear sky, but then those long cloud streamers are blowing across it, right dead center through that circle around the moon.
It almost looks unnatural. It's like, there are these long streamers of clouds, shooting across the sky right above me through the glowing circle around the full moon, and only there. It's really fantastic looking. Like I said, it seems unnatural. Uh... incredible. Like a wind blowing straight around and to the end of the world. I've never seen anything like it.
Where it flows over the moon, it looks like pearly fluorescent brush strokes. I wish I could take a picture of it. I've already tried, but my phone camera is the type that sucketh. I'm amazed at how shitty an average camera phone is, compared to my eyes. Compared to my phone, my eyes rule... but compared to my phone, my memory is shit. Ain't that a strange juxtaposition of quality comparisons between natural and manufactured? Carbonaceous and metallic? Organic and non-reactive? Shit and Shinola?
Back to the sky thing. My imagination calls it a moon clock. According to the brightest stars embedded inside it, inside that circle, with the moon at the center, it's 10:30. Those streamer clouds cut chords across it in several places. Isn't that funny? Geometric chords corresponding to musical chords on the circle of fifths. I don't understand enough music theory to know which notes those cloud streamers are striking as they pass over that circle. It would be fun to know, and even better to hear it.
I wish somebody were here with me to see it. Dang it's cold.
What it is, is ice dust way up where the cirrus clouds form, lit up by moonlight. The winds up there are going from east to west. I can tell because there are clouds with streamers blowing off of them, like smoke blowing off of a smoke stack. It's a full moon, so those ice particles are lit up pretty good. There's a ring around the moon, about 20 degrees wide, and those long streamers of clouds are blowing through that circle, with the full moon right in the middle. They look like contrails. It's a pretty clear sky, but then those long cloud streamers are blowing across it, right dead center through that circle around the moon.
It almost looks unnatural. It's like, there are these long streamers of clouds, shooting across the sky right above me through the glowing circle around the full moon, and only there. It's really fantastic looking. Like I said, it seems unnatural. Uh... incredible. Like a wind blowing straight around and to the end of the world. I've never seen anything like it.
Where it flows over the moon, it looks like pearly fluorescent brush strokes. I wish I could take a picture of it. I've already tried, but my phone camera is the type that sucketh. I'm amazed at how shitty an average camera phone is, compared to my eyes. Compared to my phone, my eyes rule... but compared to my phone, my memory is shit. Ain't that a strange juxtaposition of quality comparisons between natural and manufactured? Carbonaceous and metallic? Organic and non-reactive? Shit and Shinola?
Back to the sky thing. My imagination calls it a moon clock. According to the brightest stars embedded inside it, inside that circle, with the moon at the center, it's 10:30. Those streamer clouds cut chords across it in several places. Isn't that funny? Geometric chords corresponding to musical chords on the circle of fifths. I don't understand enough music theory to know which notes those cloud streamers are striking as they pass over that circle. It would be fun to know, and even better to hear it.
I wish somebody were here with me to see it. Dang it's cold.
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