You ever walk into the lobby of a building and no one is around? You can hear the scuff of your shoes on the tiles. You have to go up a few flights and you know where the stairs are, but the elevator is right in front of you.
Then the elevator doors open. No one is inside. They stay open for you and for some reason they only opened when you approached.
What do you do?
Today, when that happened, I said, “No thanks, universe. I’ll take the stairs.”
Why make rules that not everyone can follow?
Doesn’t life grow from the ground up?
Children must grow up before they can understand.
In other words, why would we punish kindergarteners for not donating to charity or for breaking good Samaritan laws? It makes sense; that’s why dystopian novels are so popular these days…
How long did we stand upon the shore, willing the sun to rise?
Below and above were darkness, yet somehow we knew that light reeled beneath our feet. Somehow the stars showed us what we were, and turned our eyes through the earth. For it takes two minds to prove that thoughts are alike: two perspectives to know both yes and no.
It took us as long as we willed, the shore, the sky, and the kingdom we create; I’ll be One you’ll be Other.
A fool may blot the world with the ink of cynicism, but an artist can swirl the ink into a design: both acts require the same amount of energy.
What will you do with your quill?
Let the spring shine in as a floodlit wave into the dullness of a laundromat! Feel the grand photon sing bounty, sing the naiveties of budding blossoms, sing the warming foam upon the pebbled beaches of summer. Sing us all.
Powdery virid reflections: sway yourselves from the chimney-smoke memories of frost to the heat waves streaming off fresh tar.
The ripe leaves and fragrantly cut blades of grass can be found in days overcast by the mundane; are we not born of spring? Our waking dreams should remind us not of the past.
Generation Y–those of us born between 1980 and 1999–I just read an article on Yahoo! which shows that we use email less than our generational predecessors. Also, we buy less beer, newspapers, cars, landline phones, cigarettes, desktop computers, and televisions than those generations before us. (This is not a plug for vodka, tablets, go-carts, laptops, cigars, or smartphones, by the way.) And about beer, we would not have had refrigeration without beer. Ask the cowboys. I also read that beer was “invented” serendipitously by very early man: when barley and other grains were kept in buckets for extended time and collected rainwater that altered the consciousnesses of the early men. Maybe beer should stand aside dogs as companions along tugs of our evolutionary chain?
Not that there’s anything wrong with vodka.
But the title of this post from a song I wrote over ten years ago, “Ordinary.” Maybe I’ll post all the lyrics sometime, if anyone’s interested.
You know when the room you’re in gets quieter, and maybe it gets smaller or larger. If the room gets smaller then you get bigger; your proprioception becomes redefined and you then inhabit the corner where the ceiling meets the wall: like before a dream when you rise above the sheets and catch the solar winds, bending as a worm’s silk in the silence. When the room is smaller you become water and gas, bubbles that plink at the tiny imperfections of the ceiling–the place where that spider you smashed with the broom stained the paint, like a muddy sidewalk. But when the room is larger you shrink. You become that tiny, soapy bubble that hangs in the air ten minutes after you wash the dishes. There’s another universe in that bubble, like the larger room which is the smaller room. And when you come back to this shared reality maybe the smallest violet pixel in your line of sight bursts forth in the faintest flash. Was it a glimpse of the world beyond the bubble? A vision, a blip, of an ultraviolet dimension?
We feel most alone in the dark, waiting for sleep.
But this is when we should give the darkness life, so that it too could dream as it watches the children of the day.
Instincts are a body’s ingrain sense of purpose, creating the drive and the reason for being; every body is necessary and fits a role–such is instinct.
Now my body is telling me to drink some water and sit on the couch…
These thoughts that disappear like shooting stars, never to return, yet that streak in the sky are forever burned in your mind, without any true remnants of its occurrence—such a frustrating thing it is.
A tree falls upon deaf ears,
While eyes plea their case.
And so the first blog, for what it’s worth. My butt is numb after spending the majority of a sunny Seattle Sunday setting this up.