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| june 2011 |
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| Simplicity | 3:00am tuesday, 28th june |
I imagine that life is not as hard as all that. I think it is very simple, in fact; we just complicate things as we go on — like that tangled web we weave when we practice to deceive. You know what I mean by simple: knock and it will be opened, ask and you shall receive; or if you need a non-Christian wise man to tell you, how about in Zen Buddhism: when hungry, eat; when tired, sleep. It was that simple when we were children, I believe (for most of us, at least). We hadn’t had time to muck with the works, at that point — and we most certainly would, later. I think it is no mistake that religions favor being of a childlike spirit to be saved or enlightened or whatnot. They are perhaps saying that we can have that again, the simplicity that life really is, if only we would let it be. To live uncomplicated, an honest life.
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| Life | 3:06am friday, 24th june |
This painting I deem of how life really is: 
Click on this to get a larger version. Nuremberg, by Anselm Kiefer here, is my idea of life in its reality: overgrown, messy, sticky, but in the final analysis, quite satisfying in its untidiness.
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| seasons | 5:31pm monday, 20th june |
the sad and common death of love is not in flames, not in frost
in a cool indifference, instead
like they were buying a pack of cigarettes and forgot to pay
and the smoke just dissipated into the weather
leaving only the telltale odor behind
that that hazy downpour system had just blown by
uprooting every single rose
how can we forget? when the night stranded us in our solitude
that first eternity without position in the spacetime
left to chew on the raw meat of our defeat
(the superficial chunks left after a heart is ripped out)
not all of our fleshy parts survived
some roots hardened in place, never to soak with feeling again
what buries us, grave deep
in the infinite darkness where somehow, we grow
emerging numb, to breathe reanimated sunbeams
and the seasons play tricks before our noses
as the light tickles: when the rose will bloom, what smells as sweet?
so to dig us another plot to fall in, and sniff for rain...
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| Update | 1:43am friday, 17th june |
So, what’s been going on? Been keeping myself busy, I suppose. The day job seems never ending, by which I mean that technically, I should be able to quit at any given time once I get funding for my AI company, but there have been no signs that this will actually be possible. Or just that it will be a painful severing. I put up a new website, which I cannot divulge, for it is tied to my secret identity (whereas here I am a masked crusader, of course). The russian model is still not in town, and the ex, who is still in New Zealand: last night I went to see a movie with my brother’s ex-girlfriend, and she was the second person to tell me I should just buy a plane ticket and go there. If a third person says the same, I might just give it some consideration. And that’s about it, here in Standland. Keep out of trouble, boys and girls.
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| Else | 12:54am sunday, 12th june |
I am living someone else’s life. This is not me. I am a madman huddled in an out of the way corner somewhere, imagining all this. I don’t know whose persona I borrowed, but this assumed identity is too capable, is too sure of himself, is too good. Surely I am not able to do these things I do — it is a sweet dream, and perhaps one day I will awake to the real whatever I am. But until that day, I will play the game like I know what I’m doing, live this life as if it were my very own. I should not question this simulacrum, though I know I sometimes will: I will wonder if, I will wonder how, and I will wonder why. When the real owner of this soul comes back to claim it, I will not contend with him; I will just smile as I give it back, and thank him for such a lovely day out in the sun.
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| what i feel | 3:33am wednesday, 8th june |
the dreaming has nothing on what i feel
in the breathing of the lifeforce where destiny dwells
and slim chances i take, sometimes
for in the risking of one’s comfort we ride with chance
to win and lose big, neither are anything
in the experience of everything is the precious of moment
life is to be lived tingling in the fingertips
to rest when all is done in knowing the hour was not wasted
i have endured the brute storming
and tasted the tickling of the slightest breeze upon my lips
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| Mystical | 12:12am sunday, 5th june |
There is something of the mystical I have been working on. It is something like a line from the book Siddhartha I misremembered as, “What is the sound of the river?” To which the answer was, “Om.” I work on a mystery, to hear what the ear does not hear, to see what the eye does not see, to touch a reality that is secret in its being. For the land of wind can be described by words, but to go there it is quite another thing. I know not if this is a casual satori that is laid up for me, or if this is something by which to change the current of my entire life, but it is definitely something I must pursue. This way I go perhaps I am not the sole set of footprints, or even, truly if it is even a new thing to me, but something about it is like the breaking light of destiny. This is where I should go. I’ll let y’all know if I survive the experience.
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| emptied | 1:13am wednesday, 1st june |
i have emptied myself hundreds of times
as pools of sadness collect again, from the constant rain
in sleep is small escape, always to the stark of awakening
and how do the dreams we forget shape our wills?
i have come to the beginning of myself
and the end, always to find strange answers
to believe that the wandering of the world has purpose
even as the night erases all our craft
how we learn to let go, and recognize such freedom...
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