Saturday, February 5, 2011

More Nonsense

Sometimes I feel like I have a wealth of thoughts that deserve to be heard.
Not only deserve to, but dammit they should be heard.
It's like I have some kind of hidden truth that I should present to others.
That's a pretty elitist thing to say though, so I'll take that back. That's not really it.
I just have some interesting thoughts, and sometimes interesting thoughts should be expressed.
My problem is that I don't always know how to express them.
Fuck that. That's not it.
That's not it at all.
My problem is that I just don't bother to express them even if I think I should.
Maybe I should start expressing them (wasn't that the point of this blog, not to just post random bullshit like I've been doing this past hour?)

Random Streaming

I was walking back to my room the other night.
It was particularly cold outside and I wasn't particularly dressed for the occasion.
Yet I have always had the ability to block out the cold, just not focus my attention on it.
It's like creating this artificial warmth that envelopes me, if only for the brief walk back to my room.
Or maybe I'm just numb to the cold (or is the cold making me numb? I suppose it's irrelevant...)

While this is going on, it occurs to me that I can't apply this same technique anywhere else.
If I'm lonely, I can't just pretend you're here (I've tried and it never works, and so I've stopped trying.)
Come to think of it, I guess that's really one of the only situations where that technique doesn't work.
But how I wish it did work in that situation.
I'd trade a thousand freezing walks in the cold for your warmth, which certainly isn't artificial.
It's as natural as I can imagine, you don't even need to try.

....................................................................

(I guess a string of periods is as good of a way to separate disjoint lines of thought as any...)

I've said this for a while (I guess not really said it, but I've certainly thought it), but music really is my passion.
And I really mean that; I feel like people say it way too often and they don't really mean it.
Just because you like to blast music in your room doesn't mean it's your passion.
You might be able to hear it, but that doesn't mean you're listening to it.
You want to know if music is really at your core?
Turn the volume down, play it really soft.
It should still feel just as loud to you, it should still hit you just as hard.
Even music at the lowest of volumes can take physical manifestation in my head.
It's like a mountain that I can't scale, but damn do I love the climb.
Hell, just turn the music off completely, if it means something to you then you should still hear it anyway.

I've found myself getting lost in music quite often recently, but that's a great place to be lost.
It really isn't fair to say I'm lost either when I'm more than happy to be there.
It's even more unfair to call it lost when generally that's where I'm trying to get to.
And yet lost just seems to make sense.
Perhaps engulfed would be a better choice of vernacular.
It's like the moment after a towering tidal wave crashes down on the shore and sweeps you in.
You can try to fight it, but it's worthless, you're at the whim of the water, if only for those few moments.
I try to stretch those moments into minutes, hours even.
I don't want to just get caught in the undertow, I want to get sucked in and end up lost at sea.
(There's that lost word again, I couldn't get rid of it completely.)

----------------------------------------------
(How about dashes this time, just to mix things up)

I find myself in constant search of this feeling.
It's a damn hard search though, because I don't even know what the feeling is.
All I know is that's what I want, or at least it's what I think I want.
Sometimes I think I've found it, but then I convince myself it's not it.
I don't want the search to end, I like to think that the search shouldn't be this short term.
This should be a long, sprawling quest that takes me in a multitude of different directions.

Perhaps it's the search itself that provides the feeling.
Wouldn't that be interesting? A search for a feeling that can only be provided by that very search?
Sounds like I better keep searching if I want to find anything.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Life

This is old, but I thought I'd post it.

In my time I have come to find that to live does not simply mean to breathe, to feel, to have a pulse.
I have felt my blood flow in great haste, my heart beat with unrivaled intensity.
And yet even in such times, I have found myself feeling dead.

That is not to say that I have never felt alive.
I have had my share of highs and lows, periods of heightened senses.
I have embraced the ecstasies of cloud nine, only to come crashing down to ground zero.
I have had fits of passion, sought to leave my imprint on the world.
One that is everlasting; not fleeting, but eternal.

Like an etching into a stone wall, a carving into a mountainside,
Not footprints in the sand, doomed to be swallowed by the tide,
Nor tracks in the snow, soon to be covered up, soon to melt away, or soon to blend in with the tracks others have left behind. Sometimes it can be difficult to find which tracks are your own.

And they say that life is like laying the tracks down in front of a train moving at high speed.
But maybe it is best to stop laying the tracks down.
Yes, yes, that is the truth of it.
I say life only begins when the train has veered off course.
Life can start once you stop trying to live.

The river's current is unpredictable, and yet the river endlessly flows as one.
It is both its beginning and its destination all at once,
Much like my life is already all it will ever be.
One must simply let life live itself.
Like a dog that knows the way home,
My life already knows the path to take, Correcting its course even as I alter its directions.

It is the path of that hopeless grain of sand that was swept into the ocean.
It is hidden beneath the surface and yet constantly in motion.
It cannot see what lies above, it has no view of the horizon.
But I have faith that it will get there.

So when does it all end?
When does this Life stop?
When do I die?

I have felt dead before, perhaps I already have died.
My cells have grown, multiplied, but then withered and died themselves.
This cycle has repeated itself.
I have shed my skin many times over, and yet I have maintained identity.
Like a tree that casts off its leaves as the chill of winter sets in, only to return to life as springs sends its whispers through the forest.

And so I have not died, nor will I ever.

In my future I see no permanent peace in heaven, nor damnation in hell.
I do not know what I will see.
As of now I expect to see nothing or not see at all.
Such answers cannot be found, so I have stopped asking the question.

Still, I know I shall obtain my little slice of immortality.
When my pulse ceases, when I flatline, when I "die," I know that whether I am conscious of it or unaware,

I will still be living.

Thoughts are Free

Thoughts are free, and it's a damn good thing too.
I couldn't afford to pay for all of the ideas that develop in my head.
(I suppose I pay for them in other ways though.)

Thinking is my addiction, I am always in need of a fix.
Yet I never give myself enough time between them.
It's a constant high that I maintain, depend on really.

It's funny how this lack of sobriety gives me clarity.
At least that's what I try to obtain, anyway.
Always searching, always trying to understand things on a different level.

I'm an analyst; I analyze everything, every situation.
Perhaps too much, sometimes I feel like I'm looking for things that aren't really there.
I guess I won't know for sure until I find them, I like to think that I will.

But perhaps I won't; if so, that's okay too.
In fact, that may even be the more appealing outcome.
What a drag it would be for this search for truth and understanding to come to an end.

What would I do then? What would I have left to contemplate?
I suppose I could steal the thoughts of others.
That wouldn't be so hard, seeing as how they are free and all...

Now that's something to think about.

Time to stop before I run out of things to say.