April 6th, 2009


(no subject)

Two days ago it was 70 degrees outside.
Yesterday, it rained all day and night.
Today, there is snow.

If I were a rat I would run into the sun. The sun is the ultimate nesting ground for all my kind. There are piles of straw and bedding all around, and an endless supply of good cheese. If I were a donkey I would walk the plains of Fate, tired legs rejuvenated by the thought of my victory over life. Endlessly circling the same few roads knowing that one day I would be remade whole. If I were an insect I would feast each day, and rest each night. I would find food on the trees and in the air, swooping down and eating my brethren smaller than I. Fruit would sustain me and no Man or Beast would find me wanting. If I were a planet I would swirl across the sky. Bursting with the energies of the universe, I would plow valiantly through the vast empty meaninglessness around me. Time could not hold me, and eventually I would die, a glittering explosion without sound, remnants of myself drifting through the void, pulsating with a divine insight, oscillating in an exited state as forces unseen began to move through my severed limbs, touching me and caressing me back into being. If I were a whale I would sing silently below the seas, ignorantly unaware of the nature of an atom or the movement of the stars, but Complete and Whole nevertheless. My purpose would be known to me and me alone, infinity within my grasp. If I were the air I would be Good. My movements calm and gentle, constantly changing my physiological makeup as I was respirated and synthesized in an endless cycle, never the same but ever Air. My unseen motives bringing me at times to Kill and Destroy, my power invisible and yet never lost on the lives around me. My will Altruistic towards the Planet and my nature Good. If I were a flower I would strive to be a flower, my days spent in simply basking in the mysteries all around me, germinating, pollinating, death. My DNA carried through the breeze. If I were a cat I would strive to be a cat, my days spent in complexly musing at the nature of my soul. I would leap and I would land, and the knowing of it ever would consume me. I would sit and I would rise, and the reality of it ever would amuse me. My uniqueness from the others of my kind would bind me to them, and ultimately lead us as a breed from Darkness into the Light of distinguished reverie. I bored, would spy a rat, and in my curiosity chase it wide across the world, wind rushing past my furs and puddles splashing from up my feet. The sounds and sights of life gallop and buzz and blossom past me, and everything resonates with a oneness that is only derivative of many different forms of knowing. Matter ends and emptiness begins, my pattering paws daintily dodging the celestial forms that pound across the sky. At some point, either soon or eventually, or some yet unknown combination therein, the rat makes it to the sun, and thusly scurries inside, where I too am welcome.

(no subject)

wjI've been listening to November ~{Emerson Drive}

I never would have dreamed
We'd ever say goodbye
She felt like the sun to me
On those cold November nights

I still can feel the softness of her hair
Fallin' on my face
My arms all around her
There's always somethin' 'bout this time of year
That takes me to that place
And I remember

Lookin' back I can't explain
What happened on that dark December day
I guess we were just two kids
Going different ways

I bring this up first of all because it fits my new December theme.
and foremost because..

'the softness of her hair'; it's a very true idea.
One would think, perhaps, that memory of some of the underappreciated senses would disappear first, and visual and conceptual memory would last the longest, but tisn't so.

It's killer how certain 'touch' sensations and certain smells still 'take me to that place'.

looking back i cant explain...