Heightened senses of awareness
Paranoia mediated by instincts
The depths are still frightening
Drill-down to situations not of our control
Or, maybe it's really getting scarier yet, the world
Or maybe experience teaches
Circumstances change perspectives
Evolution occurs regardless
Imagination, being what it is, has
Powerful effects on perceptions
And vice versa
The nature of things
You know, stuff, you know
Clarity is a motherfucker
Befuddling is likewise
Sharp pointy things
Running amok
Distillation is key
Simpler elemental thinking
Friday
"The California protagonist belongs to no establishment, a born renegade fond of mocking the shabby masquerades (of traffic courts and dictionaries and jails) with which the corrupt officials in city hall or Chinatown seek to imprison the noble savage dreamed of in the philosophy of Jean-Jacques Rousseau."
- Lewis H. Lapham
- Lewis H. Lapham
Triplets in my head
Pills on my mind
Politics in my brain
Although dreams from two days ago
Have begun to fade
Still I am horrified at the
Depth, detail and genius
of places I went that night
A warren of art, magic and passion
Webs of storyboard images spun
From molten metals
Like cartoon spiders answering God
Of smokes and touches
Wary interpretations of
How things should be
versus how they are
The point of decompression
Can only be found in the memories
Of dreams to make reality envious
If my brain can do that
I prefer sleeping
Pills on my mind
Politics in my brain
Although dreams from two days ago
Have begun to fade
Still I am horrified at the
Depth, detail and genius
of places I went that night
A warren of art, magic and passion
Webs of storyboard images spun
From molten metals
Like cartoon spiders answering God
Of smokes and touches
Wary interpretations of
How things should be
versus how they are
The point of decompression
Can only be found in the memories
Of dreams to make reality envious
If my brain can do that
I prefer sleeping
Wednesday
As my daughter begins to more fully interact with this world and she begins to show personal preferences, I realize that some day she will completely embrace her life as her own, rejecting external controls and dependency structures of her parents.
She will march to the tune of her own motorcycle.
How do I know? I fully rejected my parents at seventeen, moved out and never really looked back in any substantive manner. But, until now, I never realized that on the other side, from the parental perspective, the hurt that was probably inflicted. Being the center of your personal universe for so long results in lost opportunities; lost potential of an unselfish kind.
Whether it’s when she decides to venture to Costa Rica when she’s fourteen or when she heads off to college (or the circus, for that matter), the emptiness will come suddenly and deeply. Sure, maybe she may spend holidays with us, but she will develop her own world where we are but minor components. If we get the weekly call, we will cherish like life itself. Then I will be able to die alone and afraid, surrounded by strangers.
They all say, “enjoy it while it lasts” because it won’t last forever.
Nothing does.
She will march to the tune of her own motorcycle.
How do I know? I fully rejected my parents at seventeen, moved out and never really looked back in any substantive manner. But, until now, I never realized that on the other side, from the parental perspective, the hurt that was probably inflicted. Being the center of your personal universe for so long results in lost opportunities; lost potential of an unselfish kind.
Whether it’s when she decides to venture to Costa Rica when she’s fourteen or when she heads off to college (or the circus, for that matter), the emptiness will come suddenly and deeply. Sure, maybe she may spend holidays with us, but she will develop her own world where we are but minor components. If we get the weekly call, we will cherish like life itself. Then I will be able to die alone and afraid, surrounded by strangers.
They all say, “enjoy it while it lasts” because it won’t last forever.
Nothing does.
Friday
Monday
The Nostalgia of Light
I noticed it, unofficially, a couple weeks ago. It was just a moment in an otherwise miserable day. But with this weekend behind, we are now in what I’m calling the nostalgic days. The air is light and the light is airy. The sky has returned to a deep unnatural blue from its vacation of milky, humid opaque. Autumn is being phased in again.
During nostalgic days the brain remembers that autumn is a time of invigorating bliss; when the cool air returns and the mosquitoes die. The shadows deepen, mornings are dark and everything becomes all contrast-y again. Breathing becomes easy and life’s woes subside. The leaves change from an overly officious uniformity of greens to a masquerade ball of individualism and whimsy that culminates in Halloween and death. In autumn, we snuggle again. We mow the fields one last time and we ride out the slide into darkness and productivity.
The threat and misery of winter is well over the horizon. The beleaguered days of the mid-Atlantic summer fades like a bad memory. Fortunately for the humans, the memories of pain are never keen. In January, we’ll all pray for July again. The shoulders, autumn and spring, make living in the east worthwhile. The monotony of hundreds of perfect California days, while glorious, faints into the background of being.
I’ve grown to appreciate the work involved in the long march to the shoulders.
I noticed it, unofficially, a couple weeks ago. It was just a moment in an otherwise miserable day. But with this weekend behind, we are now in what I’m calling the nostalgic days. The air is light and the light is airy. The sky has returned to a deep unnatural blue from its vacation of milky, humid opaque. Autumn is being phased in again.
During nostalgic days the brain remembers that autumn is a time of invigorating bliss; when the cool air returns and the mosquitoes die. The shadows deepen, mornings are dark and everything becomes all contrast-y again. Breathing becomes easy and life’s woes subside. The leaves change from an overly officious uniformity of greens to a masquerade ball of individualism and whimsy that culminates in Halloween and death. In autumn, we snuggle again. We mow the fields one last time and we ride out the slide into darkness and productivity.
The threat and misery of winter is well over the horizon. The beleaguered days of the mid-Atlantic summer fades like a bad memory. Fortunately for the humans, the memories of pain are never keen. In January, we’ll all pray for July again. The shoulders, autumn and spring, make living in the east worthwhile. The monotony of hundreds of perfect California days, while glorious, faints into the background of being.
I’ve grown to appreciate the work involved in the long march to the shoulders.
Tuesday
Today - and, oddly, it was confirmed by all the machines - was a day of twos. Twos were everywhere. The metaphor; symbols; codes; ciphers; patterns. There was no escaping the omen. It was as clear as identical twins.
Dyad. Pair. Deuce. Dub. Dos. Twin. Both. 2. Too. A basketball shot. The peace sign. Yin/yang. Congress. Coasts. Couple. Feet. Hands. Eyes. Ears. Nostrils. Testicles. Breasts. Nipples. Knees. Clap. Stereo.
Unfortunately, obviously, I haven't made any connections yet.
Dyad. Pair. Deuce. Dub. Dos. Twin. Both. 2. Too. A basketball shot. The peace sign. Yin/yang. Congress. Coasts. Couple. Feet. Hands. Eyes. Ears. Nostrils. Testicles. Breasts. Nipples. Knees. Clap. Stereo.
Unfortunately, obviously, I haven't made any connections yet.
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