topic: death

Right from the start two images of death come to mind: death, the stop of the flow of electric currents within the body, and death, the destruction of a non-living thing. As for the first, yes, I have lost friends and family to the realm of the Unknown. It's the second one that intrigues me so, as I, like many others, have been through many deaths. Only here, do ghosts truly exist.

Over the past few days, I've had the opportunity to greet one of mine. The dissolution of fear has gifted me with many freedoms. Thankful I have become, though I am still unsure where it all leads. My most real self hopes for a proper burial. My dreamer self hopes for resurrection. During this time of fantasy, I have dug in the back ends of drawers scouring for the many photographs that support my illusion and beef up the thought that it wasn't so bad. I play the music that we loved to provide a catalyst for the cache of memories to come to the surface. How I have tried to suffocate and kill them!

Yet, there they are, jumping up and down like flames, consuming everything that breathes rationality into my being. My sense of loss/lost has overcome my sense of knowing. This isn't so easily put to rest. Damnit. Thought I was done. Thought death had passed. Thought the greiving was finished. But this ache, this connection, this vision of the one, grey bearded and overalled, sipping coffee on the porch, anticipating my arrival and the smile I'd give to him and no other.

What kind of death is that? It's shrouded by denial, given artificial respiration by hope's desperation and a wish for purity. What is the cost of coming clean? And how much more am I willing to pay? Thank god for Samuel Adams. The wake continues...

tea and chocolates

I remember this flavor
this kind of bitter embrace
waves of nausea
rippled through me at that moment
been here, felt this, way before now
the name and the face means nothing
for the taproot will dig
as far as it must
to get what it needs to survive
certain death for lust
and love left wilting
shrug my shoulders
kick the dog
take myself back inside
where truth lies
under the guise of honesty

topic: measuring

A typical day is filled with measurements, specific quantities of things. This leads me to the thought that a pre-packaged existence is there waiting for all of us if we choose to live that way. Time = seconds, minutes, hours, etc. Coffee = tablespoons. Food = ounces. Energy = calories. Paper = 8 1/2 x 11. Gasoline = gallon$. Electricity = kWh. College = four years. Cardiac output = 5040 ml/minute. One foot = 12 inches. One hour = $5.15. And so on.

Of course I'm aware of the practical application of measurements, but I don't like things to be exact, precise, or prescribed. I like to ponder the measureless. I buy bulk without looking to see what it weighs. I stop filling the tank when I get sick of standing there feeling like a guilty idiot, not when the number says .00. I don't always start things at the beginning. And I cook without the use of measuring devices. Risky, I know.

Enough analogies. I think I just like to use an objective perspective to locate intangible elements that inspire my imagination and my thoughts. I like a clear, lack of definition sometimes. I suppose I could measure that too, but I'd rather not.

topic: accident

Ha! I'm full of 'em! Sometimes I think my life is nothing but a series of accidents. Common statement, "Oops." Or, "Um, I didn't mean to." But I do, did, and will from time to time, screw up. And what to do upon the realization that you've made a mistake? Funny that at the moment I'm listening to the Rolling Stones and the beloved tune Can't Always Get What You Want plays. Oy. What would I do differently to avoid an accident? Truth be told: not a damn thing. I wouldn't change anything. How else am I to learn the necessary lessons? As I sit here attempting to make an entry after months of not writing for creative purposes, I realize, I simply can't do it. I'll post anyway. Accident or not.

Topic: Running - A Natural Progression. by Merge Divide

When I was a kid in high school, I dreaded the period of gym class in which we were required to run around an indoor track for a mile. We were always timed, and distance running was always a bit of a weakness for me. I didn't smoke too many cigarettes during that stage of my life, so it really should not have been overly difficult, but that last lap or two was always a killer. I was a hell of a sprinter, and I guess I always pushed myself too hard right from the start. It took me a long time to understand that I couldn't sprint for an entire mile.

Later on I took karate at the "bad school", with ex-marine instructors, and they put us through the paces. Every once in awhile the sensei would make us run through the trails next to the little school, and we'd be required to do so barefoot. The stones and rough terrain made this even less enjoyable than it might have been. This exercise was performed to the accompaniment of a steady stream of berating... What were we? A bunch of pussies?? I can only assume that our female classmates swallowed that turn of phrase with resignation.

After a couple of years testing my stamina with hard alcohol, I felt motivated to really give this running thing a try. With the hubris of youth, I chose the steepest hill I could find- a grueling 3/4 mile ascent to the Hill District form North Oakland. On my first attempt my entire body was overtaken with heat exhaustion, and I celebrated my cresting of the hill with several spurts of projectile vomiting. There's was nothing to do but continue.

The next day was a perfect repeat of my initial performance. I did, however, have the presence of mind to note the particular tones and texture of that day's purging. I had been expecting another bout of puke, and was quite at peace with its inevitability. On the third day, I only dry heaved a bit, and I had seemingly conquered my body's natural resistance to long distance torture.

As the weeks progressed I lengthened my route. Eventually I was entering a trancelike condition during which my mind was emptied of intention. I lost myself in the rhythms of urban atmosphere, and pushed myself further and further. I got to the point where I was running fifty minutes per day/ five times a week. It became obsessive. My chest got so thin that I had to supplement my exercise with a hundred push-ups a day, just so I wouldn't look bottom-heavy.

And then it happened... shin splints- the bane of any distance runner. I had never been shown how to run properly, and I was injuring myself. I tried to work through the pain, but that only made the situation worse. With ankles swollen, and a limping gait, I withdrew from my regimen. Soon after, I took up smoking in an ass-backwards attempt to get my girlfriend to stop. I figured that she was so poor that every cigarette I stole from her was one less that she would smoke. It didn't work out that way. Unfortunately, my new habit was more compelling, and I have refrained from running to this day.

Topic: Children

Hmmm....

may you believe deep inside that someone loves you,
may you have shelter and food, safe places inside and outside of yourself,
may you have the oppertunity to fall down, to pick yourself up
without having to be told how to do it,
may you have the freedom to express all things without fear,
I blow a wish for love to come from many places so you can see its many forms,
may you learn peace and tolerance as you learn to disagree,
learn to find solutions that don't involve too much comprimise of your will
if it is true,
may you have arms to hold you
kisses for your cheeks and head
someone to tickle-wrestle
someone to love,
may you be spoiled just a little by a special friend,
may your caretakers set limits and teach boundaries,
may they know theirs as well,
understand that grown-ups are learning too,
may your dreams be nurtured
your nightmares quelled
your prayers heard
your hand held
your hair caressed
your stories listened to
your self appreciated
your body safe and
your spirit free