Something Swift this way comes…

And it breaks her heart…

You know, I am a creature of conundrum, of enigma. I am most apprehensive when I’m happiest. I’ve been through too much life, knowing that my happiness is only there for a fleeting moment. Waiting for the next thing to knock it down out from under me.

I love Dave Matthews. His poetry speaks to my heart, his joy for life speaks down to the quiet center of me, where my soul abides. I don’t know why this should be, but in a world of musicians that are grasping for the next big hit, the new great single on the charts, old Dave sits there and writes his poetry. He has not left his roots of smoky back rooms, and living-room jam sessions with his friends, playing the songs that his soul needs to sing. He just has a larger back room and a lot more friends now. The one thing that Mr. Matthews does that no other artist can is make me weep openly and unabashedly. If you’ve never listened to the song “Grey Street” or “Where are you Going?” then you are truly missing out on an aural experience that will crumble your soul to its knees.

Listening to these songs at work tonight, I could barely hold back the tears and the thoughts…thoughts that I know too many people who those songs hearken to, that sings their story to the world. Hell, it sings my story to the world. Music is like no other art form, it can transport in ecstasy, it can uplift, it can debase, demean…It can do all of these things to someone who has no formal training in art appreciation…And it only needs a few minutes of your time.

Listen to something beautiful…let it shake your foundations. Realize that it is as beautiful as the woman you love in your heart, that it’s as gorgeous as the last sunrise you watched when you were once innocent and happy, untouched by the cares of the world. Let it transport you to that place that you haven’t told anyone about, that secret special place inside that is yours and yours alone. Let it touch you. And if it can touch you, then use it to reach out and touch someone else with.

Thank you God for my happiness, even though I know it’s fleeting.

Thank you Dave for writing such beautiful poetry and having the guts to put it out there for the rest of us.

Thank you my friend for loving me enough to help me through the tough times and distracting me when my mind turns in upon itself.

Thank you Angie for putting up with my late nights, and my irrascible attitude when I wake up and loving me enough to keep working at it even when I push you away.

Thank you my family for keeping me in your hearts and prayers…they’re not as ineffectual as you think and go a long way to keeping me sane.

And completely off topic, Wil Wheaton, if you ever happen to make it to my humble little space on the net, What the HELL is Elbow & Send?!?!?! this has been nagging me all freaking day!!!

To those of you that come here and put up with my melodrama and maudlin writings, I love you very much and thank you for your patience as I grow towards whatever may come.

S

As I stood in the middle of the worn down dusty road, scuffing the toe of my boot through the weeds that have grown up in the ruts, the muted light of day shone down upon the two signposts, one leading this way and one leading that. The hazy stormlight left all lying blanketed in muzzy shadowless light and the fields to either side rustled in the soughing wind as grasshoppers stitched the dying day with their reee. I understood their want, their desire, the instinct that drove them to seek out companionship, to seek out love.

A fleeting thought ran through my mind as I stood there, considering, wondering if grasshoppers ever know betrayal.

The thought was there and gone quicker than it could crystalize into a coherent line of reasoning. Instead I looked up at the two signposts, both faded and illegible, the scouring sands of time come and gone, taking the meaning of these two lone sentries with it. The posts themselves, now there was an exercise in entropy. Dark gray, silvered in the gathering light of the storm, the grain of the wood fairly fading into itself. Large splits and cracks wending their way out of the ground crying toward the heavens to relinquish the ground’s hold on these ancient signposts, to let them sink down into their final resting place and fade into the obscurity they have ardently sought through the ages, decaying into the dust of the earth and rejoining the life giving Gaia, dancing on the winds with the remains of their bretheren, so old and far away. Simple signposts, something thrown together to give the wandering traveller aid and succor, standing here, forgotten on a rutted, weedy path, pointing from nowhere to nowhere, yet not allowed to go to their final rest. Sobering slavery even in the inanimate.

Looking down the two seperate tracks, noting the condition of each, I shouldered my pack and made my choice.

That was all long ago and I’ve had choices to make since then, but none so sobering as those two signposts, pointing from here to there.

Which choice did you make?

S

be�tray
tr.v. be�trayed, be�tray�ing, be�trays

To be false or disloyal to: betrayed their cause; betray one’s better nature.

or

To lead astray; deceive. See Synonyms at deceive.

You pick.

ar�ro�gant
adj.

Having or displaying a sense of overbearing self-worth or self-importance.

or

Marked by or arising from a feeling or assumption of one’s superiority toward others: an arrogant contempt for the weak. See Synonyms at proud.

self-cen�tered
adj.

Engrossed in oneself and one’s own affairs; selfish.

And on a seperate note,

Have you ever noticed how absolutely, truly drop dead gorgeous some of the black & white movie stars are?

Some things hearken back to a better, if not more innocent, time.

S

Twenty nine years and 13 days ago a new voice added its sound to the chorus of humanity. Off key, meaty with sarcasm and directionless rage, that voice wailed throughout the years it finally found its center in the later years of its life, honing the rage and sarcasm instead into cynicism and razor sharp wit (or so the owner of the voice likes to think). I finally decided this year as I approach thirty that I am not an unhappy person, I’m not an unlucky or an unfortunate person. I’ve realized that I’m never going to be famous, I’ll never have hundreds of friends or millions of dollars. I know this. I’m okay with this. I’ve found that I don’t like being such a heartless bastard, one that always finds something negative to say in every situation – even though I look at the world through eyes that hide a great optimism….I think that people are capable of many great and wonderful things, acts that can shake the very foundations of the world with their loving kindness and caring for fellow man. I hide within me the hear of a child, one that wonders at the world around and sees the miraculous in the mundane. Most people don’t know this. I don’t let many people in far enough to find this out. I don’t show people this because I know that along with the capacity of great kindess and caring, people also have a bottomless well of anger, pain, and hatred for anything beautiful. We are a self destructive lot, and by our very nature that which we create that is beautiful we often turn around and destroy it, defile it because it reminds us of the place we once shared in the Garden with everything that was holy and blameless.

In that vein of thought, I often find myself using my cynicism and wit to tear people down and I shudder at the thought of what I’ve become, the crack in my heart that has let darkness seep in and I struggle with my conscience and try to stop myself. Some days are easier than others. At times it’s a thing I struggle with mightily and find myself losing. At others I am able to dam the tide of words that cut, the intent that draws blood. I am a creature that pushes away everything that he loves when he feels things getting too close to his heart. I guess this is human nature, at least it’s my human nature. I will struggle with this daily for the rest of my life until the day I pass from this world into whatever waits for me in the infinite beyond.

What a melodramatic sop, eh? Sometimes I am, yes. Can’t help it. Nature of the beast. I march to the beats that hit me in life, just like anyone else. This isn’t highschool melodrama, just one man that’s one year closer to the grave thinking about the things that were never going to be, but I was too blind to realize it. That’s okay too. Introspection is a good thing in moderation. I’ve found myself in the last couple of weeks with tears brimming my eyes – not even realizing that I was having a somber moment. Watching TV, talking to my wife, shooting the shit with my co-workers, driving down the road listening to music as I travel from one place to another….thinking that this life is not long for this world and I’ve not yet begun…I’ve been working so hard for all the tomorrows that I’ve missed too many todays…these lost moments of the now scare me, and make me sad within, realizing that I’ve been worrying about doing things for something that may never be…Oh, I’m not talking about school, or working so hard, just that my mind has been focussed on trying to make the future bright and shining like a blazing star when the present, the now, is that vast deepness of space surrounding that solitary body that is nothing more than a cloud of puffed up dreams, the gas of wishes unfulfilled and goals half-formed.

I’m not a top.

I can’t spin on a dime and go in a different direction…I’m a creature of habit. I have not promised myself to live for the now instead of worrying about the future…I’ve not taken a great leaping bound into a new life by brainwashing myself with holistic medicines and a brand new exercise regimen and diet plan. I’ve simply decided that I’m going to make a conscious effort to enjoy every moment of every day that I can. Even when I’m hurting or lonely or struggling for the words to tell those that I love how I care for them. I’ll slip. I’ll backslide. I’ll fall into the morass of worrying about the future…I’ll wake and realize that I only have today, I only have /right/ /now/ and I’ll continue to try and focus on this, here, now instead of tomorrow. This is all I can do…I can’t change the world, but, God willing, I can change me. This doesn’t mean anything to you, I know, but dear reader, know that I love you with all my heart and hope that you too can come to live for now, instead of worrying about tomorrow. Let us roll back the veil, let us push the darkness aside for a while and gather near the fire of love and compassion and comfort today, now. Live with me. Love with me. Touch my heart and I’ll touch yours. I’ll try not to hurt you…but if I do hurt you, know that I love you and am trying not to hurt you, and given time, I may be able to heal you instead of hurt you. Look into the fire…See how bright it glows? It will only be there for a moment. Please, don’t go out of that circle of the firelight, sit here with me a while, hold my hand and sing with me a new song, one that’s slightly different than the one we were singing before. I love you. Stay a while.

S