I was supposed to spend this weekend with L. It's 4:11 PM on Saturday and I'm home now. Last night there was an incident -- an agreement was broken; a bond of trust was cracked.
L smokes pot (as do her roommates) but I do not. I quit smoking marijuana several years ago. I had reluctantly tolerated her pot smoking over the past two months, but recently I had expressed my displeasure about her smoking habit. I don't enjoy being in the presence of those smoking pot; I feel like the designated driver at a party full of drunks. She didn't agree to quit; however, she agreed to cease smoking around me and cut back her weekly consumption.
Last night I was with L in her bedroom watching David Letterman interview Ira Glass when she exited the room and joined one of her roommates in the living room. After a few seconds I peered into the living room and saw her smoking pot with her roomie. She coughed into her arm (I'm assuming to muffle the sound and avoid arousing my suspicion). I was dumbfounded she would break our agreement practically under my nose. She returned to her bedroom, and I confronted her about what I had witnessed. I don't recall her response -- that doesn't matter. We had a mutual agreement and she broke it. Moments later, as we lay in bed, I was very upset and said I would probably leave Saturday. I awoke the following afternoon, and my feelings hadn't changed. I remained agitated and at one point she said "just fucking leave"; however, I don't believe she meant those words because she later pleaded me to stay, but the "just fucking leave" remark only added fuel to my fire and another wound on my heart. I gathered my things and left without a "goodbye."
Despite what this post might suggest L is the only girl I've ever met who I believe truly loves me. I feel so undeserving of her overwhelming kindness.
Two challenges face our relationship: distance and, now, the pot issue. We're separated by 90 minutes which means weekends are our only times to spend together; weekends are also the best time for me to write, and if I seriously wish to pursue my dream I have to commit to more writing time. Regarding the pot issue, I must confess I don't see how or why this is a problem. If one is truly committed to his or her relationship why would he or she let pot risk destroying that bond?
Tomorrow will be our four month anniversary -- wonderful timing.
mc
21 April 2007
05 April 2007
sixty million light years away and countless questions about our existence
Go H E R E to see an astonishing snapshot of galaxy NGC 1672 taken by the NASA Hubble Space Telescope. The image was released on 3 April 2007 and offers an amazing high definition glimpse of a galaxy 60 million light years away. Just how far is 60 million light years? Well, one light year is 5,865,696,000,000 miles -- you do the math!
mc
"For if I try to seize this self of which I feel sure, if I try to define and to summarize it, it is nothing but water slipping through my fingers...This very heart which is mine will forever remain indefinable to me."
Albert Camus
mc
"For if I try to seize this self of which I feel sure, if I try to define and to summarize it, it is nothing but water slipping through my fingers...This very heart which is mine will forever remain indefinable to me."
Albert Camus
03 April 2007
28 March 2007
winnebago
"Get outta here you f*ckin' flies... We've got flies comin' for us. F*ck!"
LOL Hilarious 'net junk from YouTube. (Contains explicit language)
LOL Hilarious 'net junk from YouTube. (Contains explicit language)
26 March 2007
kite
Her patience is wearing thin like the pages in my notebook, and I can recall when everything was clean and new, unmarked by my faults and inadequacies. A picture was painted, she painted a portrait of me and now the colors are running, a stained canvas. Does she still recognize the man from our first encounter on that cold night in December? Or have I become a friendly stranger? A long lost friend, barely recognizable?
Earlier today I saw several children flying a kite in the afternoon breeze. The kite darted and dove as the children playfully struggled to keep it aloft. After much fanfare the kite crashed and the kids hurriedly raced to the crash site.
The Forces of the Cosmos had won but the children were undeterred and soon the kite was soaring again, higher than before. The children gazed heavenward, their faces glowing with accomplishment. Beautiful.
Are those Forces -- the same Forces which brought L and me together -- slowly tearing us apart? Or is the paint on my hands? Have I -- and I alone -- smeared that December portrait?
There is nothing left to conceal now. No brush strokes will hide the cracks of my personality -- I stand naked. What horrid portrait would L paint now if brush, colors and canvas were at hand?
Is it possible for us to return to the crash site, examine the wreckage (wreckage stained with my fingerprints), collect the pieces and soar again?
I love you, Panda Bear.
mc
Earlier today I saw several children flying a kite in the afternoon breeze. The kite darted and dove as the children playfully struggled to keep it aloft. After much fanfare the kite crashed and the kids hurriedly raced to the crash site.
The Forces of the Cosmos had won but the children were undeterred and soon the kite was soaring again, higher than before. The children gazed heavenward, their faces glowing with accomplishment. Beautiful.
Are those Forces -- the same Forces which brought L and me together -- slowly tearing us apart? Or is the paint on my hands? Have I -- and I alone -- smeared that December portrait?
There is nothing left to conceal now. No brush strokes will hide the cracks of my personality -- I stand naked. What horrid portrait would L paint now if brush, colors and canvas were at hand?
Is it possible for us to return to the crash site, examine the wreckage (wreckage stained with my fingerprints), collect the pieces and soar again?
I love you, Panda Bear.
mc
25 March 2007
retreat
She said goodbye and exited my car. I watched her until she disappeared around the corner of her front porch, put the car in gear and slowly drove off.
Not even a kiss, a kiss goodbye.
It was only noon and I was leaving. I nearly left the night before but settled myself down and stayed the night. L recently moved to _____ (about an hour and twenty minute drive from my place) with two friends and this was my first weekend there.
Why the early departure? It's difficult to explain. Or is it? I simply enjoy the comforts and the familiarity of my apartment; my apartment is my home and I enjoy the safety (figuratively speaking) of my surroundings. I feel secure here. Here inside my bubble. The sounds, the smells and the feeling of apartment #1580 mean no surprises. The faces are known. The faces are familiar. I trust the faces. The faces are few.
In _____ I felt temporary. A stranger. Foreign surroundings in an unfamiliar town. L's hospitality provided many moments of valuable peace (I don't want to leave the impression that the entire weekend was hell -- it wasn't). I love L like I've never loved a girl before. She has showered me with love and kindness like no other, and I know I broke her heart leaving at such an early hour but my bones were yearning to retreat and I had to leave. I had to. I would have lost my head if I remained. There is absolutely nothing she could have done to make me stay; my decision to leave was based on my neurotic behavior/habits.
And now there is this strain between the two of us. I wish I wasn't such a neurotic fuck-up, and I'm afraid my inadequacies will be the death of our relationship.
I'm in #1580 chain-smoking cigarettes like tomorrow isn't coming and I'm wondering what will become of us.
Is love enough?
mc
Not even a kiss, a kiss goodbye.
It was only noon and I was leaving. I nearly left the night before but settled myself down and stayed the night. L recently moved to _____ (about an hour and twenty minute drive from my place) with two friends and this was my first weekend there.
Why the early departure? It's difficult to explain. Or is it? I simply enjoy the comforts and the familiarity of my apartment; my apartment is my home and I enjoy the safety (figuratively speaking) of my surroundings. I feel secure here. Here inside my bubble. The sounds, the smells and the feeling of apartment #1580 mean no surprises. The faces are known. The faces are familiar. I trust the faces. The faces are few.
In _____ I felt temporary. A stranger. Foreign surroundings in an unfamiliar town. L's hospitality provided many moments of valuable peace (I don't want to leave the impression that the entire weekend was hell -- it wasn't). I love L like I've never loved a girl before. She has showered me with love and kindness like no other, and I know I broke her heart leaving at such an early hour but my bones were yearning to retreat and I had to leave. I had to. I would have lost my head if I remained. There is absolutely nothing she could have done to make me stay; my decision to leave was based on my neurotic behavior/habits.
And now there is this strain between the two of us. I wish I wasn't such a neurotic fuck-up, and I'm afraid my inadequacies will be the death of our relationship.
I'm in #1580 chain-smoking cigarettes like tomorrow isn't coming and I'm wondering what will become of us.
Is love enough?
mc
park
Dead grass and concrete.
It is 42 degrees and I am walking through a park, silent
The children are absent and
The swing sets do not move,
Just the sound of distant cars on black motorways
And a memory of you:
An old cardigan, tattered blue jeans and I was playfully chasing you on a chilly night in October
The way she touched me parted skies and
Made missing children cry.
Where have they gone?
And where are you, Vandalia?
She is miles away
Sorting knickknacks and colored fabrics.
I could fabricate a lie
Tell myself I am not alone
But it is 42 degrees and this park is empty and
The swing sets do not swing.
Dead grass and concrete
Under my aching feet
The bones do not fit and
My flesh is aging.
"Abandon the flames raging inside your head and embrace the love of Christ!"
Is what the man on the television shouted.
His suit was well pressed
And his Rolex glistened
Like the plastic and confessed.
My confessions are concepts
Tasteless confections lacking nutrients and significance.
Dead grass and concrete
And above my body
Clouds like castles tumble and collapse
Shift and slide like the chemicals inside.
Cold rooms, a shattered mirror and bottled medications await my arrival at my place of residence.
If I could cast a spell and
Sprout wings from this weathered spine
I would drift above the tree tops
Cradle broken angels and seal their crystal wounds with off-key lullabies,
But it is 42 degrees and my head is full of
Fairy tales, daydreams, and tranquilized soliloquies.
The last time I saw my mother she said,
"You look so sedated."
"But I feel better, so much better,"
Was my placid reply.
I am beginning to believe those words were just another lie.
Dead grass and concrete and it is 42 degrees.
The children are gone
Inside homes basking in the warm glow of television shows.
mc
It is 42 degrees and I am walking through a park, silent
The children are absent and
The swing sets do not move,
Just the sound of distant cars on black motorways
And a memory of you:
An old cardigan, tattered blue jeans and I was playfully chasing you on a chilly night in October
The way she touched me parted skies and
Made missing children cry.
Where have they gone?
And where are you, Vandalia?
She is miles away
Sorting knickknacks and colored fabrics.
I could fabricate a lie
Tell myself I am not alone
But it is 42 degrees and this park is empty and
The swing sets do not swing.
Dead grass and concrete
Under my aching feet
The bones do not fit and
My flesh is aging.
"Abandon the flames raging inside your head and embrace the love of Christ!"
Is what the man on the television shouted.
His suit was well pressed
And his Rolex glistened
Like the plastic and confessed.
My confessions are concepts
Tasteless confections lacking nutrients and significance.
Dead grass and concrete
And above my body
Clouds like castles tumble and collapse
Shift and slide like the chemicals inside.
Cold rooms, a shattered mirror and bottled medications await my arrival at my place of residence.
If I could cast a spell and
Sprout wings from this weathered spine
I would drift above the tree tops
Cradle broken angels and seal their crystal wounds with off-key lullabies,
But it is 42 degrees and my head is full of
Fairy tales, daydreams, and tranquilized soliloquies.
The last time I saw my mother she said,
"You look so sedated."
"But I feel better, so much better,"
Was my placid reply.
I am beginning to believe those words were just another lie.
Dead grass and concrete and it is 42 degrees.
The children are gone
Inside homes basking in the warm glow of television shows.
mc
28 February 2007
observe random time
Everything you hear or read is hearsay. Always demand documentation.
The world's population is approximately 6,600,000,000. I am simply one person among the billions.
"Do not exceed the recommended dose. If overdose is suspected, contact your local poison control center or emergency room immediately." (Authorized personnel will promptly dispatch uniformed professionals in a flashing vehicle.)
Before signing legally binding documents always read the fine print.
"You may have already won $10,000,000.00!" (If it's too good to be true, it probably is; otherwise, strings are attached.)
The sun is hallow. It is filled with a million screaming infants, all blissfully oblivious of their existence.
When you speak you're repeating what you already know.
"Remember that your doctor has prescribed this medication because the benefit to you is greater than the risk of side effects."
"IN CASE OF EMERGENCY BREAK GLASS" (OR RUN LIKE HELL)
"FLAMMABLE Keep away from fire. Keep out of reach of children. Not for internal use. MADE IN USA"
Do not talk to strangers or actors portraying friends.
Lies and deceit have destroyed many a man.
"Exact change only. No change given."
"ROAD CLOSED AHEAD - FOLLOW DETOUR"
"Avoid Hell. Repent today. Trust Jesus."
"Take 1 tablet 3 times a day. If you miss a dose, use it as soon as you remember."
When speaking to another person, always maintain eye contact. Be wary of those who avoid eye contact; his or her movements should be scrutinized. Beware of suspicious body language (i.e. wandering eyes, nervous head and/or hand movements, crossed arms, restless legs, etc.).
The US Department of Justice reports 797,500 children were reported missing in a one-year period of time studied.
Everything you hear or read is chaos encoded into a conceivable language.
mc
The world's population is approximately 6,600,000,000. I am simply one person among the billions.
"Do not exceed the recommended dose. If overdose is suspected, contact your local poison control center or emergency room immediately." (Authorized personnel will promptly dispatch uniformed professionals in a flashing vehicle.)
Before signing legally binding documents always read the fine print.
"You may have already won $10,000,000.00!" (If it's too good to be true, it probably is; otherwise, strings are attached.)
The sun is hallow. It is filled with a million screaming infants, all blissfully oblivious of their existence.
When you speak you're repeating what you already know.
"Remember that your doctor has prescribed this medication because the benefit to you is greater than the risk of side effects."
"IN CASE OF EMERGENCY BREAK GLASS" (OR RUN LIKE HELL)
"FLAMMABLE Keep away from fire. Keep out of reach of children. Not for internal use. MADE IN USA"
Do not talk to strangers or actors portraying friends.
Lies and deceit have destroyed many a man.
"Exact change only. No change given."
"ROAD CLOSED AHEAD - FOLLOW DETOUR"
"Avoid Hell. Repent today. Trust Jesus."
"Take 1 tablet 3 times a day. If you miss a dose, use it as soon as you remember."
When speaking to another person, always maintain eye contact. Be wary of those who avoid eye contact; his or her movements should be scrutinized. Beware of suspicious body language (i.e. wandering eyes, nervous head and/or hand movements, crossed arms, restless legs, etc.).
The US Department of Justice reports 797,500 children were reported missing in a one-year period of time studied.
Everything you hear or read is chaos encoded into a conceivable language.
mc
21 February 2007
pieced together
Last Wednesday marked my first Valentine's Day spent with someone special -- very special. As L and I approach our two month anniversary (I think "anniversary" is a rather grandiose term to use considering the length of time) I'm amazed she has chosen to remain by my side. I'm not a perfect man, far from it, and while I realize we all walk cracked and flawed, my blemishes seem to glint brighter and sting harsher, especially in interpersonal relationships. In light of this uncomely fact, L remains and we continue to grow closer. Her constant and steadfast presence has provided the one thing I've need for so long -- stability.
That very stability kept me together last weekend. L's best friend was married in Kentucky, and the experience was not an easy one for me. Leaving the safety of my cocoon, especially for a formal event filled with strangers, was not an easy choice, but I felt obligated and made the journey.
I purposely neglected to take my meds (I packed them but simply refused to take them) during the entire weekend. (My reason for doing so would require a separate post; perhaps a future entry).
The wedding was Saturday evening and Saturday night was a blur of assorted mixed alcoholic beverages -- too many beverages. With L riding shotgun and my new found comrade C in the back seat I left the reception scatterbrained. As I traversed freezing foreign roads my head buzzed with a million electric wasps, all of them scraping and screaming, determined to push my consciousness to the edge of some unbearable spine shattering reality.
Somehow I guided my ship back to home base.
"Tomorrow" seemed like a cruel illusion, a pristine fragment of suspended time that I wouldn't see alive.
Splintered memories like washed out photographs are all that remain from that night, but I vividly recall L by my side, preparing my bed for the night and caring for my alcohol saturated body. Her touch was a silent lullaby and precious sleep soon came.
I opened my eyes and it was Sunday morning, glorious Sunday morning. That unblemished fragment of time arrived and I had survived to see it. Breathe it. And L was by my side sleeping peacefully.
Stability.
My fingertips lightly brushed her cheek and my lips gently pecked her forehead.
Stability was by my side.
And even when she's out of reach and miles away, her face only a mirage glimmering in my mind, she is here, inside.
Stability.
Thank you, L.
mc
That very stability kept me together last weekend. L's best friend was married in Kentucky, and the experience was not an easy one for me. Leaving the safety of my cocoon, especially for a formal event filled with strangers, was not an easy choice, but I felt obligated and made the journey.
I purposely neglected to take my meds (I packed them but simply refused to take them) during the entire weekend. (My reason for doing so would require a separate post; perhaps a future entry).
The wedding was Saturday evening and Saturday night was a blur of assorted mixed alcoholic beverages -- too many beverages. With L riding shotgun and my new found comrade C in the back seat I left the reception scatterbrained. As I traversed freezing foreign roads my head buzzed with a million electric wasps, all of them scraping and screaming, determined to push my consciousness to the edge of some unbearable spine shattering reality.
Somehow I guided my ship back to home base.
"Tomorrow" seemed like a cruel illusion, a pristine fragment of suspended time that I wouldn't see alive.
Splintered memories like washed out photographs are all that remain from that night, but I vividly recall L by my side, preparing my bed for the night and caring for my alcohol saturated body. Her touch was a silent lullaby and precious sleep soon came.
I opened my eyes and it was Sunday morning, glorious Sunday morning. That unblemished fragment of time arrived and I had survived to see it. Breathe it. And L was by my side sleeping peacefully.
Stability.
My fingertips lightly brushed her cheek and my lips gently pecked her forehead.
Stability was by my side.
And even when she's out of reach and miles away, her face only a mirage glimmering in my mind, she is here, inside.
Stability.
Thank you, L.
mc
11 February 2007
weekend
L spent another weekend with me; she left a few hours ago. Whenever she leaves I'm filled with regret -- I take her presence for granted and don't treat her as well as I should. She tolerates my volatile personality, and I'm amazed by her patience and constant love -- I couldn't ask for more. I wish I could refine myself, smooth out the rough edges and become the man she deserves. Inside my head is a Hollywood/TV image of a loving boyfriend -- and I fall dreadfully short of this image. I realize this image doesn't truly exist, but I want to exceed all of her expectations and satisfy her every desire. Unfortunately my actions tend to belie my heart's intentions; I'm puzzled by this disconnection.
I finished the first draft of an untitled short story. I'm now in the process of making revisions and I'm also working on another story. Rummaging through a notebook of potential screenplay ideas recently, I realized that many of the sketches are better suited for short stories, not scripts. I use much imagery in my writings and it's hard to convey what I "see" in the form of a screenplay. I still hope to complete a screenplay someday, but at this moment my creative energy is pushing me in a different direction.
My head is whirling with many thoughts of multiple shades right now, too many to pinpoint and plaster with words. Tomorrow awaits.
Goodnight.
mc
I finished the first draft of an untitled short story. I'm now in the process of making revisions and I'm also working on another story. Rummaging through a notebook of potential screenplay ideas recently, I realized that many of the sketches are better suited for short stories, not scripts. I use much imagery in my writings and it's hard to convey what I "see" in the form of a screenplay. I still hope to complete a screenplay someday, but at this moment my creative energy is pushing me in a different direction.
My head is whirling with many thoughts of multiple shades right now, too many to pinpoint and plaster with words. Tomorrow awaits.
Goodnight.
mc
06 February 2007
finally
South-Central Indiana finally saw its first major snow fall today, approximately six inches.
Despite the single digit temperature I went outside at 9 PM to smoke a cigarette and sip on a Bad Elmer's Porter (a beer brewed by local brewery Upland Brewing Co.). The ethereal silence of a snow covered earth is one of those rare instances when one is reminded of what it is to be alive, when the tranquility of the vanishing moment is realized, and the uniqueness of existence tingles the spine. Or as Jeff Mangum once sang, "How strange it is to be anything at all."
mc
31 January 2007
dust
Much time has passed since my last post but I'm still here -- and doing quite well. L and I have now been dating for over a month and despite my occasional episode we're very happy together. Romantic relationships -- especially when you've experienced so few throughout your life -- are strange mechanisms. Our relationship works differently than most because of our geographic locations. We're separated by 50 minutes so weekends are usually our time to spend together. Nightly phone calls and periodic text messages throughout the week lessen the distance and she never feels far away. While the distance can be difficult at times, I think it helps moderate our feelings and prevents us from "rushing" things.I could easily saturate this post with sentimental cliches and confessions of love but those things shall remain private. She knows how I feel, and I know how she feels.
I haven't posted any recent writings because I have many stories (?) working their way through my notebook. I've never worked on multiple pieces at one time but thus far I've managed to keep each piece fresh and interesting.
The screenplay I started several months ago has been filed away but remains floating in the ether of my imagination. I haven't abandoned the script; we need some time apart, that's all.
Right now my writing philosophy is simple: just write. I'm confident that if I keep plugging away these pieces/stories/whatever will weave together and become a cohesive unit or they will forever remain separate and eventually form a collection of short stories; I find the latter very intriguing.
I'll try to keep T.S.Tv.S. fresh with a weekly update or two. Despite the many conflicting and contrasting pieces that make up TheSkyIsATelevisionSignal.blogspot.com, I'm very proud of what this blog represents.
Ugliness.
Beauty.
Heartache.
Love.
Pain.
Joy.
My life.
mc
10 January 2007
built to spill
We are not data.
We are not black fonts painted on clean white sheets tucked in manila folders and hidden away in gun metal gray filing cabinets.
We are not an appointment scheduled on an over sized calender in a professional's office. (His desk is adorned with high class knickknacks, among them is a gold framed portrait of his family beaming under a Cancun sun, perfect. They are tanned. Healthy. Smiling mouths expose perfect white teeth. A picture of the american dream.)
We are not an account number with an accompanying profile photograph.
We are not a job title.
We are beings miraculously floating through time and space, trapped on a planet searching for something, someone. Seeking love. We rummage through the senseless debris of modern life looking for that spark, that _____, the ineffable flame that unites two exiled souls and transforms the meaning of self. Two beings fuse and the spectrum through which they view life changes.
Men have murdered for the flame of love.
Men have disappeared never to return upon experiencing love's crushing departure.
Lovers have committed themselves until death for that light.
Others have made final pacts and chosen an early exit when the cold shadows of authority won't allow their flare to flash.
All of this for love. Sweet love.
We've shot men into space and left proof of our existence on a lunar surface. We've developed technologies to kill thousands and save millions. Yet love has befuddled the human mind. Love's implausible logic leaves us silent, but a kiss speaks volumes.
Perhaps some day scientists dressed in white lab coats and trapped in sterile labs of fluorescent lighting will discover love's true name, its actual source. Is it a chemical? A component in the brain? What organic matter could possibly bring two separate beings together with such undeniable force?
What has brought L and me together?
What is driving us forward, closer?
Why does my entire body flutter with electricity when I look into her endless eyes?
How can the simple presence of another soul generate a peace -- a mutual peace -- that dissolves time and transcends two bodies from this physical realm?
She says, "I don't want to rush this. I've made that mistake before and I don't want to make the same mistake again."
I say, "I don't want to rush things. I've made that same mistake as well."
We want this to last.
But love is illogical, an untamed beast beyond comprehension. Is it possible to temper the flame? And if so, are we thereby harming its process?
And how do we know if these feelings are genuine?
One can question his or her feelings until they become meaningless drivel, and when love is involved the questions, as well as a subtle fear, quietly hum like distant radio static, fading in, fading out.
I did not ask for L's blessed presence, but here she is. I refuse to compute the risks involving myself with her; I'm enjoying each second and striving to plant myself "in the moment," knowing that tomorrow may never arrive. I won't mince my words, dear. I do not have the time -- none of us do.
"I try to think of what time is and all I can think is:
Time is.
Time was."
Andy Warhol, artist
It's my opinion that subconsciously, and in some cases consciously, we seek to control -- despite the fruitless nature of the task -- every aspect of our lives. Yes, you can control what you consume, who you see, where you travel, but the things that shift our lives, the things that make life real, the things that flash our brains and flush our hearts are ultimately beyond our control.
Love tells us to go. Move. Proceed. Forward. Experience. Open ourselves to that Great Unknown.
Love is a purpose. A reason to reach. Touch. Kiss. Exchange. Feel.
Love allows us to escape ourselves, we shed the flesh, bone and hair and become something... else. We become the greatest vessel this planet will ever know: a transparent body of peace, appreciation and tenderness.
The Uncontrollable.
Won't you join me, love?
All we're losing is time. Wretched time. Damn the consequences.
Tick. I.
Tock. Love.
Tick. You.
Tock. ..................
mc
"We're always losing the moment, it's always vanishing."
Stephen Koch, author
We are not black fonts painted on clean white sheets tucked in manila folders and hidden away in gun metal gray filing cabinets.
We are not an appointment scheduled on an over sized calender in a professional's office. (His desk is adorned with high class knickknacks, among them is a gold framed portrait of his family beaming under a Cancun sun, perfect. They are tanned. Healthy. Smiling mouths expose perfect white teeth. A picture of the american dream.)
We are not an account number with an accompanying profile photograph.
We are not a job title.
We are beings miraculously floating through time and space, trapped on a planet searching for something, someone. Seeking love. We rummage through the senseless debris of modern life looking for that spark, that _____, the ineffable flame that unites two exiled souls and transforms the meaning of self. Two beings fuse and the spectrum through which they view life changes.
Men have murdered for the flame of love.
Men have disappeared never to return upon experiencing love's crushing departure.
Lovers have committed themselves until death for that light.
Others have made final pacts and chosen an early exit when the cold shadows of authority won't allow their flare to flash.
All of this for love. Sweet love.
We've shot men into space and left proof of our existence on a lunar surface. We've developed technologies to kill thousands and save millions. Yet love has befuddled the human mind. Love's implausible logic leaves us silent, but a kiss speaks volumes.
Perhaps some day scientists dressed in white lab coats and trapped in sterile labs of fluorescent lighting will discover love's true name, its actual source. Is it a chemical? A component in the brain? What organic matter could possibly bring two separate beings together with such undeniable force?
What has brought L and me together?
What is driving us forward, closer?
Why does my entire body flutter with electricity when I look into her endless eyes?
How can the simple presence of another soul generate a peace -- a mutual peace -- that dissolves time and transcends two bodies from this physical realm?
She says, "I don't want to rush this. I've made that mistake before and I don't want to make the same mistake again."
I say, "I don't want to rush things. I've made that same mistake as well."
We want this to last.
But love is illogical, an untamed beast beyond comprehension. Is it possible to temper the flame? And if so, are we thereby harming its process?
And how do we know if these feelings are genuine?
One can question his or her feelings until they become meaningless drivel, and when love is involved the questions, as well as a subtle fear, quietly hum like distant radio static, fading in, fading out.
I did not ask for L's blessed presence, but here she is. I refuse to compute the risks involving myself with her; I'm enjoying each second and striving to plant myself "in the moment," knowing that tomorrow may never arrive. I won't mince my words, dear. I do not have the time -- none of us do.
"I try to think of what time is and all I can think is:
Time is.
Time was."
Andy Warhol, artist
It's my opinion that subconsciously, and in some cases consciously, we seek to control -- despite the fruitless nature of the task -- every aspect of our lives. Yes, you can control what you consume, who you see, where you travel, but the things that shift our lives, the things that make life real, the things that flash our brains and flush our hearts are ultimately beyond our control.
Love tells us to go. Move. Proceed. Forward. Experience. Open ourselves to that Great Unknown.
Love is a purpose. A reason to reach. Touch. Kiss. Exchange. Feel.
Love allows us to escape ourselves, we shed the flesh, bone and hair and become something... else. We become the greatest vessel this planet will ever know: a transparent body of peace, appreciation and tenderness.
The Uncontrollable.
Won't you join me, love?
All we're losing is time. Wretched time. Damn the consequences.
Tick. I.
Tock. Love.
Tick. You.
Tock. ..................
mc
"We're always losing the moment, it's always vanishing."
Stephen Koch, author
04 January 2007
sister sadly
Mother and Stepfather now have temporary custody of Sister's newborn son. Apparently she relapsed last night but this is assuming she ever freed herself of those venomous substances.
I won't delve into the sad details of last night's conversation with mother. If Sister doesn't check herself into rehab she will a) overdose unintentionally or b) commit suicide. My family has fought this battle before (Sister's previous problems are blogged here... How long ago did those heartbreaking events transpire?... Time lines blur but memories do not) but now a child, a baby is involved, and once again I'm prepared for words informing me of sister's death everytime the phone rings.
Last night I told my mother to just give in, give up and give in to the Great Magnet. The great Unknown that renders us all powerless. Accept the fact that control is an illusion. We develop products that give up temporary control. Remote controls. Thermostats. Alarm clocks. PDAs. Computers. Our roads are lined with white and yellow lines guiding us. Signs are posted warning us of upcoming dangers, limiting our speed. Stoplights control the flow of traffic.
Look around.
We're surrounded by things that aid the illusion of control -- a control that does not exist.
Give in.
Find beauty in the lack of command. The absence of might.
You are free.
mc
I won't delve into the sad details of last night's conversation with mother. If Sister doesn't check herself into rehab she will a) overdose unintentionally or b) commit suicide. My family has fought this battle before (Sister's previous problems are blogged here... How long ago did those heartbreaking events transpire?... Time lines blur but memories do not) but now a child, a baby is involved, and once again I'm prepared for words informing me of sister's death everytime the phone rings.
Last night I told my mother to just give in, give up and give in to the Great Magnet. The great Unknown that renders us all powerless. Accept the fact that control is an illusion. We develop products that give up temporary control. Remote controls. Thermostats. Alarm clocks. PDAs. Computers. Our roads are lined with white and yellow lines guiding us. Signs are posted warning us of upcoming dangers, limiting our speed. Stoplights control the flow of traffic.
Look around.
We're surrounded by things that aid the illusion of control -- a control that does not exist.
Give in.
Find beauty in the lack of command. The absence of might.
You are free.
mc
01 January 2007
L
New Year's 2007 was a very special celebration thanks to a lovely little lady named L. It's difficult, if not impossible, to express the significance of her presence. She became a vital part of my life at such a crucial time that I'm not sure where I would be without her.
When you know that another soul reciprocates your feelings and understands your unspoken language (a glint flashing in your eye, an emotion burning in the pit of your belly, a heart racing from flesh touching flesh) you know you've found a rare and unique individual.
L, thank you for making last night a memorable and unforgettable experience.
I love you, babe.
mc
(I still can taste you on my breath)
When you know that another soul reciprocates your feelings and understands your unspoken language (a glint flashing in your eye, an emotion burning in the pit of your belly, a heart racing from flesh touching flesh) you know you've found a rare and unique individual.
L, thank you for making last night a memorable and unforgettable experience.
I love you, babe.
mc
(I still can taste you on my breath)
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