cheer up

I have been listening to this song quite a lot lately: Radio Cure by Wilco

My mind isn't filled with silvery stars, but it is crowded with snippets of lyrics, and the randomness I see on my walks. Today's trek had more than its share of strangeness:

• A park filled with Amish
• A sobbing young woman climbing the sidewalk by the Peabody
• Clutches of Heavy Metal fans everywhere downtown
• Bridesmaids dressed in Orioles' orange parading by the ballpark
• A man wearing full catcher's gear in its parking lot
• A giant thumbprint, or what looked like one, formed by the glue left where a traffic sign had been removed from an overpass

Cheer up honey, I hope you can. There is something wrong with me.

reach

I don't want to box with god (well, maybe I do sometimes), but my arms are still too short, and they're tired from constantly reaching out. God's arms may be longer, and tireless, and more adept at boxing, but they don't reach very far, and they don't lift much. So, I rely on others. Others are always reaching too, but not for me.

happenstance

These things I see repeating, could be. They could be repeating themselves to draw something to my attention. Or it could be I'm looking for them, to convince myself of something else.

I hear the speaking of the same word many times. I see a bird, a starling, twitch its wings. It sings out the same notes to its neighbors.

I feel the pink softness in the same petals pulled from the same droopy flowers. I see the same bright minutes stand beside the same white hours, before they jump away.

I watch it blur by me, the same branded symbol on the same make of car. I feel the same jar's worth of air disturbed by the same swarm of gnats and their thimbleful of wings beating.

None of it is real, and yet it's all happened many times before. No part of it could possibly come to be, but it all lives together right now and everywhere.

I'll walk where the lights take me, sometimes, following the greens so I don't have to stop. Or I'll walk where I want to go, ignoring the lights and daring the cars.

I'll put two words together, because they rhyme, or they don't, and suddenly I'll find myself at the end of a passage, which says something insightful, or it says nothing with any meaning whatsoever.

in between

It's these in-between places. The pauses in between phrases our spun orb hums. The gaps between made-up catches it's whistled. There our when's are unlatched and misled.

foolishness

Waiting the way I wait, and I wait, awaiting more waiting, may make this wait, or waiting, a fool's game. But wait, some fools are wise to the surprise that comes when the wait is no longer waiting, and it finds at its end, one smile waiting for it, and a look that unlocks a kingdom.

what's given; what goes

What's given is, it's not given. Or it's not given long, but it is blessed (and that's 1 syllable and 2). 

It's not long at all before it's taken back. No, it's not taken; it goes back. Yes it goes, and it leaves that blessing behind.

this dream

This dream is a memory that couldn't happen. These dreams are. They were a sadness that will not come. All of my dreaming will be a happiness that didn't awaken.

steps

Today I walked approximately 9 miles, though it was over five total trips. A two-mile walk has gotten to be pretty routine for me.

In between stepping out, I read a New Yorker article about "treadmill desks" that you can use to walk at low speeds while working. It sounds funny, but it's supposed to be much better for you than sitting (and I know how bad sitting can be).

I also read a very short article about "life-editing"; living in a single room that can be configured to meet different needs. For example, changing it into a bedroom, office or dining room by using Murphy beds, sliding dividers and pull-out surfaces. Building-wide common areas (such as a professional kitchen) and shared resources (eg., power tools) play a role too. As an aside, it mentioned that people used to walk much more, and those walks became opportunities to socialize with neighbors.

Maybe others will swing around to these ideas. On my walks around town now, I can go long stretches without seeing anyone, and most people I do see have just gotten out of a car. I feel out of step with people in a lot of ways, but maybe I'm just a step ahead of them.

noise

The noise comes. Unwanted, it thrums and rushes. It shouts in unwise whooshes. It pushes doubt, nonsense and lies, as the day's expectations unravel.

in place

A dull day under a dull gray sky. My only real accomplishment was spinning 31 miles on a stationary bike. Symbolic of the motion without movement in my life.

silence

The silence is questioning. Silent, it asks me. It searches me silently for solutions I can't yet speak. I haven't yet spoken.

persistence

The stink bug believes. It must believe. A bulb is the sun, the ceiling its sky. Over and over again, it collides against a hard white that in the "wild" gives way. A bug doesn't learn. It persists, both in success and failure.

It can't stop. It won't stop until it falls damaged or exhausted. Then I'll cup it, and put it outside, back where the ceiling knows forgiveness. You see, I have a little bug in me.

dust

To be again, back to dust, back up to starry dust, to glittering float, apart and a part of everything particulate, and no part to any some in particular.

never. yes, never

Today wasn't a good day. I'll summarize it thus: I've booked way too much time on the selfless side of the ledger.

I've lived enough years, and my remaining time is too valuable to be given away too easily. I have knowledge. I have wisdom. I have talents. I'm happy to share them with the right people, for the right cause. I will never again be, however, just a body to fill a slot and engage in mindless activity.

They who say such things, say, never say never. This is a never I'll say with absolute certainty.

eine kleine

I'm inclined, night. Music is shadow. Light is a bent line. Absence rests in between, a second or a lifetime.

nada

I've got nothing today. Zip, zilch, zero. I worked from 9 till 9, with a short break to buy groceries and make dinner. The neighbors did have a jam session going with period instruments, which was fun to listen to.

Right now, I'm trying to watch a hockey game, but the complete and utter insipidness of the advertisements tends to twitch my finger onto the off button. I'll probably read a little before I drift off to dream more dreams about someone who I don't want to dream about. My sleeping mind never lacks for material, but it can be rather predictable.

visitors

115 years ago today, Anthony Palisi, better known to me and mine as Grandpa, was born in New York. Our family trip to visit him and Grandma Rose up in Armonk is a favorite childhood memory. They would later move next door to us in Maryland, and I got to spend several months living with them during my senior year of high school. He was a sweet man, and I miss him and Grandma.

Last night I was visited by a mouse, one of the various critters that seem to pass through the apartment from time to time (mostly insects and spiders). I generally let them be, or try to guide them outside, if I can. They're just doing what they were designed to, so who am I to hold it against them.

Outside my apartment today, while shooting the breeze again with Bob, a little dog named Amber came over to say hello. She was exceptionally sweet, and insisted (with some irresistible whimpers) on being pet. Not all visits or visitors are created equal.

these are the minutes

These are the minutes. The ghosts of lived yesterdays haunt. Their haunts hum circles colorless. They ply the black with a plea that's forget us.

this is the hour

This is the hour. The ghosts of tomorrows never born come. They come with their chorus of voices. They come and they sing silence and darkness.

Sunday mysticism

There are songs I love so much, that when I listen to them, I don't just want to sing along, I want to dissolve into them and float away with them wherever it is played songs go. Into the Mystic is one such song, and I listened to it many times today. No need for church or mediation, as long as I can have this music in my life.