Friday, November 27, 2009

Changes with Beauty

Sweet little thoughts

From Sweet little Dreams

Like those Sweet Little Bullets

From a Pretty Blue Gun

Dark and comforting night

Letting the Dreams fall into view

All the world

On those foggy shores

Sunday, November 22, 2009

The Load

What the heck, eh?
Let’s give it a shot. Why not?
I don’t just mean lets be Not Dead.
I mean, living.
Vibrant. Whatever that could be.
energetic: full of liveliness or energy
pulsating with energy: seeming to quiver or pulsate with energy or activity
resonant: having a full rich sound that tends to continue for some time
bright: dazzling or radiantly bright
vibrating: vibrating very rapidly
I miss someone who I really don’t know
Except that she is me.
But really, who of us knows ourselves?
Out of all the people we meet, we mostly see Me from just face on,
And that tricky bugger always knows when I am looking.
I think that Me puts on an act, too, when I see him in the mirror.
I don’t think what I see is the same Me that others see.
That is normal for everyone.
There is this mental reaction we build up to something familiar and comforting.
If, for example, you have a girlfriend you have started to see.
At first, she is she. Sure, maybe hot, maybe not.
As you spend more time with her, and associate her with pleasing feelings,
Her face, her image, begins to be more appealing to you.
So, that when you show her pic to the buddies, you think she is the most gorgeous woman in the world.
Which is good. To you, she is. That is the way it should be.
But to anyone else, she is still just another girl.
The same thing happens as a baby with our parents faces (and voices, and smells, and touch.. etc)
With our friends and such too.
I think it must also happen with our own image.
There is a certain age where a baby can recognize it’s image in the mirror.
For some of us, we never look away. For others, we never really look at all.
Some of us are more the Actor. Some more the Investigator. Some just take everything as is.
Ok. So, I miss someone I don’t know.
Except she is part of Me. The extension. The next style.
Of someone I don’t really know.
I take responsibility for my part in the events that have crafted this Now.
There are ways I would rather it. And there are ways that could be much worse.
She is safe, happy. Loved, from near and from far.
Things will improve.
That isn’t what I am talking about, though. I am thinking of the connection.
Which doesn’t make sense, maybe. But is no less solid for that. Even if mostly one-sided for now.
These confusing feelings are brought forward from recent events.
How things could be different in one way, but are different now in another way.
The finality of choice. Hit or stand.
See, though. The game might not care. The dealer might have you beat either way. Usually does.
As I have said to people at tables, “See all these lights a-blinking? They all cost money.”
I started with talking about giving a try. But I would really like to just start with
Giving a shit.
To really care. About something. Not have to work at it.
That sounds horrible. But that is how life has been. Crafted emotions. Designed Caring.
Everyone else seemed to give a shit, so I tried it on.
Really though, when not being interrogated by conversation or action,
There is almost nothing there. Empty. And it is so peaceful.
To not care. To not worry. To just breathe and think and wonder.
Now, you might notice I say almost.
There have always been those things that I never had to fake.
The easiest to point to is, strangely, fear.
I have said it before, but I think fear is always near.
Like some understanding about how indifferent the universe is, really.
That all our dreams and hopes are really just wishful thinking.
Also, I have said, that this near constant hovering fear allows me to
Operate in a way that others might take as bravery.
Really, it is like not noticing a hang nail on a finger that has been severed.
Ok. Off the path there for a minute.
There are other feelings that are there all the time. Not worked at.
They are more powerful than the fears or worries or whatever.
That closeness and caring to family and friends.
Even the family who aren’t friends. For now.
Nothing feels better than blood on blood.
Or the friends, as said before, who are family.
To the special ones, who feel more than family.
Who are always tugging at your heart or mind.
Even if you might never will really be friends again.
The closeness, once shared, has it’s own place. Protected.
At least it is like that for me. For others, it is different.
They might feel the high, then the low, and then move on.
Or, worse, really feel something negative.
I have never hated. Anyone or anything.
I would like to think that I have, and do, love.
Every time I have acted or felt what I thought was hate
Was, every time, really confusion or frustration.
It didn’t last.
The opposite was a line from Barfly, now that I think about it.
“It's hatred. It's the only thing that lasts.”
Well, I am sure there are those that hate me. And maybe they should.
I used to put a lot of effort into being an asshole.
But I was really just searching. Trying to find something.
Like most of us. I just did it more openly. More fully.
Which brings me to the latest series of me being an asshole.
Oh, sure. It isn’t like before. I am not doing to find out some result.
Like a mad scientist. Or test pilot.
This time it was about something that I new I had to reign in.
To be honest with myself about which parts I wanted to keep and which to jettison.
As the parts I wanted to keep I very much wish to, and would have lost for sure
Had I kept going as I was. As is, things maybe be damaged. But they can heal.
If allowed.
Some things will never be the same. This is a good thing.
Some events Should change things.
If that change is fought or ignored
Then it pays a disservice to the importance to the event.
Or speaks lowly of how things were to start with.
It just sucks that one has to feel the pain.
And the other is an asshole.
Wow. That was a ramble.
If I broke this post up with pics as usual, it would take about fifty.
And the post would be pages and pages long.
Not that I have anything against an excuse to post a bunch of cute pics.
This time, though, it is just the thoughts. The words on their own.
So, what was a wistful thought about a far away little girl
Brought about by recent events, soft cool tunes, and a small taste of scotch
Turned into an purge of mental build up!

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Get your shoes and socks on...

There just isn't enough time to dream
All the dreams
It seems
So many fantasies and wonderings fill my mind
I can't get to them all.
Then they spill out.
Over flow.

It is amazing to watch.
From the mind to the world.
Stray skinny Dreams, on the corner
Asking for change
Odd bits of Thoughts, sitting at the counter.
Dribbling their soup
There, on the passing bus, in the window
A sleeping bit of past What If, head lolling.

The ones which really affect
Are the ones sitting across the table
Asking you to pass the salt
As they read the paper.
What does a Wonderment or Fantasy

Find interesting in the business section?

Sunday, November 08, 2009

Simple Thoughts on a Sunday Night

Couldn't tell you when the simple came
It was there one morning
Leaving all other thoughts of deeper need


She never let the days get in the way
Of how her nights should have been
When she dreamt

Of them

Even if they are no longer speaking
In our ears when we turn around
Their true bestowing

Never left