I Learned Something

Tonight I stood outside and watched the snow falling around me. I know that it's not the kind of thing that people often to and expect to learn, but I did. I stood there, soul searching, wondering what it was that I was missing, what it could be that I didn't get. As I stood there, deep in thought, I took note of all the beauty, of all the splendor found in such a thing as snow. I began to think of all the small miracles that were happening around me, of all the wonders which I had always taken for granted.
While I was in this daze, this effective coma, I opened my mouth ever so slightly, without even thinking of it. A snowflake hit my tongue, not a large one, or a perfect one. It was simple and plain, so far as snowflakes go. I dismissed it.
I waited, and looking back on that one snowflake, I had hoped that another, more grand snowflake would hit my tongue. That was the perfect moment that I was looking for. I waited, and waited, and waited. No other ever came to my lips, much less my tongue. I struggled; I twisted and contorted, trying to get that one perfect snowflake.
No flake came to my lips. Instead, what came was a word, "Already." I had already had that one perfect moment, yet I dismissed it entirely. Perfection had already come to my lips, but I was so busy drowning in my own thoughts, in my own questions, in my narcissism, that I had scarcely noticed, much less appreciated that moment.
There it was, my moment of perfect realization. In that instant I realized that all along, whilst I've been complaining and searching, everything has been perfect. It always has been and always will be. Everything I have seen, touched, felt has been perfect, and I just never noticed it. As I sit at my computer at 1:34AM, writing this small tribute to an idea that I can never convey in its entirety, I know that it is still perfect. I know that I am perfect, that you are perfect, that this small time which I hold even now is perfect.
Why, why is this all so perfect?
I'll tell you why. It's perfect becau...

No.
No, it doesn't need a reason.
It does not need an explanation.
Perfection simply is.

The Lemon/Lime Fiasco

So, I did carry through with my idea of sewing the lemon to the lime. However, I did not run into those damned evangelists again. So, instead of throwing it at their feet, I opted to leave it in the lounge on my floor. It garnered a surprising amount of support. Apparently though, that's also called blasphemy.
Today, I got my punishment. Of all the things that God could have done to punish me, bolts of lightning, the plagues of Egypt, all that cool stuff, he chooses to take a dump on me. Quite literally. As I was walking back to my building after picking up some liquid nails (fixed the mirror by the way) I got shat on my some damnable bird. Of all luck... I have never been shat on by a bird before, and hope to never undergo that experience again. Thank god I didn't have a shotgun.
Apparently, god doesn't like blasphemy. Go figure. It seems like the big guy can't take a joke.

Lemons and Limes

I have a plan. Tomorrow, at lunch maybe, I'm going to use a meal option to buy a single lemon, and a single lime. I will slice them in half, and sew one half of the lemon to one half of the lime, using my trusty, emergency sewing kit. Then, I will look for those damned evangelists that come by every so often. If and when I spot them, I will throw this monstrosity at their feet and proclaim, "Where is your god now!?"
At this point I'll probably be arrested, but hopefully they'll get the message. They have their beliefs, I have mine. It would be better for both of us if we didn't force our beliefs on each other. Seriously, I haven't found Jesus. I'm not going to. Stop asking me. What kind of zealots can't even keep track of there own god, always asking people if they've found him?
That's just irresponsible.

I've Come To Understand...

That certain people feel as though I am "abandoning my friends." This could easily seem to be the case, so I do not blame them for feeling so, but here's what's really going on...

I've always had to make a conscious effort to make plans with people. I have always been the one saying "let's hang out." Well, now I have a lot of things to take care of. I have responsibilities that I must abide by. Said responsibilities leave me with little energy and little time, so I no longer make the effort that I once did, figuring that my friends will pick up the slack. Thing is, they didn't. Real friendships go both ways, and aren't based on one person asking the other to hang out. Things shouldn't be one sided.

But they are.

Also, things change. I'm not the same as I was a year ago, or a year before that, and next year I won't be the same as I am now. That said, here's the deal: Keep up with me, or I'll leave you behind. Does it suck? Yeah. But that's the way my life goes. I've never stayed in one place, in one click, in one manner, for more than a couple of years. Either you accept me, and all of my changes; either you come with me whilst I move into the future; either you make the effort that any true friend would, or I will leave you behind.

I never look back.

It's Been A While

I know; I know. It's been a long time since I've made a post. Honestly though, I don't give much of a damn, because no one really reads this crap anyway. I've been busy this summer, as I suppose I should be, it being my summer before college and all that shit. Anyway, here's a brief synopsis of everything since my last post...
I graduated, woohoo, blah blah blah. So I've got this little slip of paper that says that I've completed more school that 35% of the population of this town. It's nice to be out of high school though, what with all its people whom I've struggled with myself over whether or not to kill. After graduation, I've lost interest in most of the people I once called friends. I'm not sure if it's because of the way I've always lived my life, the fact that I've changed, or simply that they weren't very interesting people to begin with.
I got a job. Yeah, I'm back at the fish market again. Every day when I get home, I wash my hands in vinegar, soap, Ajax, and cologne. Then I take my 20 minute shower. Because I spend 7-10 hours every day in a cooler, I have a bit of a winter cough and often a full blown cold. Bog Woop.
I'm still going out with Melissa, and we've never been better. She's still the love of my life, and I doubt it's going to change. I've spent just about every weekend with her and loved them.
When not spending time with Melissa or fish, I spend it with the friends that I'll never see again. Oh wait, no I don't. Most of the people I've been spending time with are the people that I'll be spending the next 4-5 years of my life with. I guess no one else is really that worth-while.
That's about that. Maybe later on I'll post some stories about specific events. Maybe I won't. Who knows? Who cares?

Woodstock

Today I did not photograph a young man sitting at the mouth of an alley, playing guitar and singing, next to a jar with a few pennies in it. I did not look him in the eye or drop any money for him. I did not buy anything from the store which sold meaningless baubles, nor did I photograph the crystal carousel sitting on the shelf.
I did not stop to chat with anyone, even though a couple of people tried to stop with me. I did not take a picture of the motorcycle gang walking out of the quilt supply store, each with their own bag of cloth and thread.
Today I did not appreciate antiquities, nor did I buy a good looking copy of Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandchildren. I did not eat at one of the numerous local restaurants. I did not bask in the afternoon sun, but rather avoided it in the humid air. I did not confront any of the people that I wanted to, any of the people that would have probably been able to tell me an amazing story.
I did not live today the way I should have, the way I try to always live my life. I did not learn anything today, or hear an amazing story, or meet an amazing person. I had every opportunity, but I wasted it, and I regret blowing the chance when I had it.

The Insomniacs Dream...

In the dead of night, Insomniacs dream of dawn. I know this to be true. I belong to this unfortunate culture, this pathetic mass of people unable to slide into that comfortable space between waking moments. I wonder how my life might be different if I slept as the rest of the world did. Would I still be as curious about life? Would I still have all the time wanted to ponder questions that no one has ever asked me? I don't think so.
Maybe it's not as true as I thought. When I lie awake at night, I only wish for the dawn because it brings a second wind with it, the resetting of my inner clock, and ability to stay awake for another day. Perhaps the insomniacs dream is not dawn. Perhaps for some the dream is that of sleep, the dream of dreams itself. For me, however, the dream is that of an end to dreams, the need to never sleep again.

Oh sweet dawn of day, come bare me away to glorious new times where the wicked never rest nor do the righteous ever sleep. Oh merciful gods come give me a cure for this wretched disease o'er which I weep. My dear deities, I yearn for thee in the dark, whilst I chase spirits from my mind, awaiting the cries of the lark. Modern amenities, please give me my sweet solace. I need not to dream if I may wake to smell the callas.

In the dead of night, the Insomniacs dream of a dawn fulfilled or a dream destroyed.

That Last Was Weak

So it was me being lazy, but wanting to post something none the less.
Woop. Anyway, I'm graduating soon. My last day is Wednesday, graduation on the 24th. I'm looking forward to it. I have to admit though, I'm a bit stressed; what's new? I don't have a job yet. I'm not sure how much money I'll make this summer, hopefully enough to pay for college. If not, loans here I come... I'm also just a bit scared of leaving school. It's all I've known, all my life. It's almost like a security blanket that I'm finally going to have to deal without. For the first time in my life, I won't be coming back to school after the summer. It's weird, scary and exciting, but most of all, I'm hit by unending melancholy. It seems to be the dominant emotion of my life. Melancholy. It's better than sorrow or fear I suppose. I've always got good times to remember, old friends to think about, amazing adventures that I'll never forget. Every time I think about my past though, I just get a little bit sad too. I know it won't be back, but I wish it would. So much. There is so much I wish I could experience again, so much I wish i could have done differently, knowing what I know now. I've always felt a little like I missed out on a true childhood, and it never bothered me too much, but now that I'm faced with becoming an adult, I'm scared shitless. I'm scared and I wish I could have had more time as a kid.

Just a few more years.
Please...

Here Now Lies Concordance

I was rooting around through a few of my old writings, and I found a little story I'd written a while back. I don't quite remember when. Maybe it was a year ago, maybe more.

Here now lies concordance...



The car stood motionless in in it's grave, an artificial pyre with no one to drive it. The whole city followed suit, with no one there to manage the flames. It was obvious why there was no driver, no warriors trying to quell the riotous fire; the city was a vast cemetery, where the dead did not rest easily. The dying skyscrapers twisted and contorted into monstrous burning fingers, scratching at the clouds. Entire blocks of the ruined city became the molten hands of the dead, clutching at the sky for something, anything to hold on to. With the screams of warping metal, even these monolithic beasts of steel lost the struggle for life, and with their last breaths they collapsed to the burning earth below.

We stood motionless, watching the city die, both entranced by the enormity of this destruction, and sobered by the knowledge that it was our doing. From the corner of my eye, I saw her turn to look at me. "Fire purifies." she told me. Without facing her I gave the same three words that I had said countless times that night, "No, fire destroys." This dialog had become our mantra.

This time, however, it struck something deep inside of her. She pulled me around, so that we were face to face. I was no longer staring at the city but instead at the growing inferno of hatred in her eyes. I had hoped this would stave her appetite, this destruction, but it seemed to have only given her a taste of blood. Now she wanted more. I could see her madness growing, her hunger, her desire. Lit by the burning wreckage, she was truly something to behold. I believed that in that very instant she could have been the Angel of Death.

She told me one last time, "Fire purifies." I did not bother responding this time, but hugged her tight to me. With her small body against mine, I did the only thing I could think to do, the only thing that seemed right.

12/21/2012

I keep wondering if there's any truth to it. They say the world is going to end in 5 years. It's the end of the great cycle, a time that started more than five thousand years ago. If it is true, if we're to die in five years, then I suppose I need not worry about it anyway. I'll just sit back and relax, watching the end. I suppose it will be a great show. It'll be a bit of a disappointment if it's mundane. I do hope there's something good to see.

I'll just sit back, relax, watch, and maybe listen to Efterklang the whole way through.

I have come curiously close to the end,

I suspect so anyway. My wits are at their respective ends, some so tangled that they've not even sure which end is which. I'm fried, fucked, forlorn, forsaken, fubludgeoned, etc. I'm just a general mess. Goodnight.

e^(pi*i)=-1

Don't ask me why, but it's true. Don't ask me why a lot of things happen. It's just a sick sad little world. At least we know we're breathing when we plug our ears in at the discotheque, but even then I wonder is it live or is it memorex? I have to play at the coffeehouse on Friday. Do I want to? No. Do I need to? Yeah. shit...


RIT still hasn't finished fucking up my aid package. shit... Oh well; it'll be finished soon enough I hope. But don't worry, I can always give up.

Strike That

1. I haven't had a good night's sleep in.... I don't know how long it's been to be honest. I haven't felt rested in weeks. My brain function is slowing, becoming less logical. My body is screaming in agony with every move I make. I've lost the will to do much of anything other than sleep, but I never seem to have the chance to, or when I do, I can't.
2. I'm in one of those moods again, have been for a while, where everything seems utterly futile [see Cthulhu]. It's not a nice feeling, and it keeps raping me of what little drive I have left. I can attribute a large part of my misery to my job, which I'm soon going to quit, but something below the surface seems wrong, something intangible. It's been bugging me a lot, perhaps making me more frustrated and depressed because I can't figure out what's depressing me entirely.
3. This is a fucked up world.

Three strikes I'm out...

Cthulhu

I seem to have this growing obsession with Cthulhu, that lovely beast conjured up by Lovecraft. I don't think that any figure of literature has as large of a cult following as Cthulhu, yet no one can agree on what he looks like. The general rules stay the same, green, tentacles, claws, big, but that is about it.

How is it that so popular a figure can be so indefinite? It makes me wonder what we insignificant little people, tiny compared to Cthulhu in both stature and fame, could hope to expect in terms of recognition. Will anyone remember me after I die? Does anyone know what I look like once I've left the room? How many people know which scars are where, which ear is missing its helix.

All these things about me seem significant...

to me. I wonder if they're significant to anyone else. How many people look at me and say, "Gee I didn't know that was there...". How many of those people see me every day? How many people truly know who I am, what I do, what I want? Out of those people who know, who really gives a damn?

It's more than slightly overwhelming. My entire life has been a struggle to make myself known. I've always wanted to be important, somehow, someway. 17 years of effort thus far and all I have to show for it is a handful of friends, a girlfriend, and a mediocre musical ability. Woohoo...

When I think about this I realize now why Cthulhu was so evil. He was always so unknown, the x factor, the transient, the nobody. Nobody paid much attention to him, unless he was going about doing his evil deeds. He wasn't truly evil, he was just someone looking for a little fame, looking for someone to recognize him. It's times like these that I can't help but feel sorry for the poor brute.

i-V-iv-V7-i-V/biv-biv-i

I just had the idea while at work tonight, "Hey, I have a blog don't I?" I've made one post and then promptly forgetten about it, sad in a sense. Well, here I am, trying to revive this poor excuse for a blog.

I won't sleep tonight, even though I'm exhausted. It's 9:40 and I have to be awake atleast another 1.5 hours, which means I can sleep at 11:10. After that, I would have roughly 3.5 hours to sleep, or else I miss my bus, and thus my train. So, I think it would be wiser not to sleep tonight, and just compensate for that during my lengthy train ride.

If you're wondering what the title of this blog means [you non-music kids], it's a chord progression that's become a favorite of mine. I've never seen nor heard this progression outside of my own doing. Infact, I've gotten into several arguements about what it really is. [no I won't elaborate.]

I know people expect some structure from me, however conveluted it seems you expect it to pull together in the end, but I assure you, this doesn't. I am exhausted and simply jotting down thoughts.

Goodnight you shining stars.