Monday, October 14, 2013

Step out of the Cave.

I'm color blind.  It's true.  Doc holds up the big circle with all the colored dots, and I can't see any number or letter inside it.  First time he did it I thought it was a trick question.  I saw the look of boredom on the Doctor's face.  He'd obvioulsly seen this a million times before.  My mom just had a look of incredulous wonder on her face.  That's when I knew it wasn't a trick.  She was seeing something in that mess of dots, that I just wasn't.

Here's the nifty part.  If you're not color blind, you have no frame of reference for this.  Just as I have no frame of reference for what you see.  I see color.  I look at a rainbow, and I can distinguish all the colors in it.  I don't need to read a crayon to know what color it is.

My world is not black and white, or various shades of gray.  It is vibrant, and glorious, and filled with all the razzle and dazzle.

But I don't see the numbers in the dots.
Despite my claims of seeing color...the fact remains you see things I don't.
Your world has more definition.

Now I'm not going to turn this into some bullshit version of Plato's Cave Allegory...but, you know...frame of reference.

There are things in heaven and hell not dreamt of in your philosophy.

I'm also not writing a defense of god.  I'm an atheist.  Pretty outspoken about it.
I hate that "The Universe" has become some sort of god replacement for those who've had enough with the Christian mythology, but still want something bigger...and in control.

The Universe is in reality a whole shitload of nothing with some balls of burning gas, and rocks floating around in it.

Now I'm not saying the Universe isn't full of mystery and beauty, and so many things we don't and will never know.

But I'm pretty sure the Universe isn't like a giant genie ready to grant our wishes if we just send out enough positive energy.
Sending out thoughts to the Universe seems about as useful to me as praying.  In fact...exactly the same thing with a different email address.

The Universe doesn't have a plan for us.  It doesn't guide our destiny.  It's not looking over us, or watching out for us.

It's a romantic notion, sure...but...come on.
Maybe I'm simply color blind.

We make our own destiny.  We get to choose the crayons.  And not only do we get to choose whether or not to stay in the lines...we get to draw the lines too.

I will the entirety of my existence, see the world the same way you do.  I'm not talking from a perspective, or spiritual, or philosophical, or political point of view.
I'm talking...I will very literally never...ever...see the same things you do.  The cones in my eyes, don't allow for that.  My ability to visually process information is more limited.  I have a very specific frame of reference.

Here's the thing though.  I can only know this because I've been told so.
I have to take someone else's word for it.
So maybe the whole fucking world is lying to me.  Maybe the circle with the dots and numbers really is just an elaborate hoax, and just...some of us aren't in on it.  I don't know.  I CAN'T know.

There are very literally things in this world I will never know, because I am physically incapable of knowing them.
And that's just the physical world.

This makes me wonder...

I don't believe in god
or ghosts
or demons
or angels.

But I allow that I could be wrong.
I doubt it.

But I don't KNOW.
Instead I know this.

I know there are colors I will never see.
That's it.
I'll try to explain but I'm afraid I'll fall short.

I know that there are colors I will never see.  Colors.  That is so fucking simple.  A certain degree of presence or absence of refracted light, that changes the degree and temperature of that light creating an illusion of something somewhere between full light and full absence...and we call this color...and there are colors I can't see.

That is REALLY fucking simple.
If there is something that simple, that I am from a purely physical disability, not able to comprehend.
How likely is it...
that there is so very much more?

Things less dependant on physical ability.
For everything I know, there are infinite things I don't know, and it would be pretty presumptuious to assume that I do.

My physical reality is different than yours.
So why not my spiritual reality?
My emotional reality?
My intellectual reality?

I have to take, with a certain degree of faith, that this world is different than I percieve it.  Ergo it stands to reason, that it is different for everybody.

Every single person will encounter "truth" differently.
Which is why everything is true.
And which is why
Nothing is true.

The word truth, when taken in this fashion, is a big fat zero.  It cancels itself out.  Your truth, and my truth will never, ever be the same.

The problem is, I think, when we try to insinuate truth on each other.  When, since my truth is mine, it must be universal, and yours as well.

Well it isn't.

There is no such thing as truth.
There are simply facts.
And perception.

Beyond that is always speculation and interpretation.

We claim our petty little moralities on such shaky ground.
And we fight for them to the death.
Simiply because we see the colors differently.

We are so concerned with being right, that we forget that we can simply be.
I will never see the colors you see.
You will never see the colors I dream.
But if we get together...
and color together...
instead of each trying to draw a different picture
we can make a brand new one.
More beautiful than all the others.

We don't have to destroy both worlds, because we are trying to make them into one...
We can become one and occupy both.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

First Star to the Right.

It's been raining.  It's nice.  I like the way it feels.  I love the way the world smells when it rains.  I like to sit outside and watch the light from the streetlights reflect in the streets.  I like the quiet of a rainy night.  And then I love to pollute my lungs with tobacco and nicotine as I take in the serenity. I live for the burn that will kill me.

I like to sit in the rain, and feel it on my face.  I close my eyes, and invite you to sit next to me, as our original home falls from the skies.  I've said this before, but it's always true.  Every time I think of you....  Every damn time...

You are smiling.

You see, our world is a mess.  We live in hate and anger and rage and bullets.  We fight oh so goddamn much, over things so goddamn trivial.  And we know this.
We live on a planet filled with men who want to rule you.  They want to keep you stupid, and poor, and sick.  They want to believe they only have your best interests in mind.  They want to make sure that as long as you are alive, you are placed in a position of submission.  They want you to do menial tasks, for very little compensation, and pay them back for the privilege.  They want you too busy to question.  Too angry to think.  To scared to fight back.

We live in a world of mixed messages.  Do this.  Don't do that.  This is inappropriate.  That is offensive.  You can say this, but not that, and  wear this but never that.  

Everything is sacred.
Nothing is sacred.
Someone might get their feelings hurt.
Someone might unfriend you on FB.
Someone might not want you in their club.

We live in a world of petty meanness.
Where we need to apologize for our opinions.
For the movies or music that entertains us...
simply because someone we like or respect...
or want to like or respect us...
might think those movies or music are stupid.

We all have to have opinions.
We all have to be right.
No one can simply enjoy something
without being questioned about it.

Every fucking person...
Is searching so fucking desperately...
for a pedastal to place themselves on.

And goddammit...
I'm here to kick pedastals.

And I'd love your company while doing it.

Like what you want.
Say what you want.
Feel what you want.
Wear what you want.
Learn, read, listen, watch, eat, play, pray, sing, dance, enjoy, spend, go, and fucking DO...
whatever the fuck you want.
And never say sorry.

We live on a planet, governed by chaos. We spin our fucking wheels every day trying to put a little bit of order into it.  We want to control the mess.  We yell and scream and condemn when we can't.

And like the great prophet John Lennon,
I'm just sittin here watchin the wheels go round and round.

I ask you
oh so gently
and quietly
and with my impish grin, splashed stupidly across my lopsided face...

Won't you dance with me?

I am a person to whom you will NEVER have to apologize.
I don't care if we don't share opinions...
or religions...
or gods, or monsters.
I don't care if we don't like the same music, or books, or movies.

I don't care about your guilt, or regret.
  I don't care if you think you're too fat, or too skinny.  
I don't care if your clothes came from Italy, or Walmart.

I just don't.

I know you have pain in you.  I know you do.
I know you have insecurities.
I know you have secrets.

I know you have contempt, and anger and hate too.
I know you get annoyed by all the little things.
I know you're tired.
I know you're stressed.  

I know that all too often, real life gets in the way of all those dreams you have.  All those hopes, and ambitions, and plans.

And for that I want your hand.
I want to take that pain, and stress.
I want your insecurities, and fear.
I want those voices in your head, that tell you 
You aren't good enough.
You aren't pretty enough.
You aren't clever enough.

Oh so much mostly.
Very tip top of the mostly...

I want that voice in your head that tells you that you don't deserve...
or happiness...
or joy...

And I want you to dance with me in that rain.
And make that shit silent.
I want all of your lies to fall out of your bare feet
as we smile together under water and streetlights.

I want to show you the beauty in the chaos...
and the ridiculousness of all those voices...
and all those feelings...
and all those little fears

They are all so silly.

See cause here's the trick.

I don't have a Peter Pan complex.
I AM Peter Pan.

You probably think THAT's silly.
You probably don't believe me.

Whether you do, or do not is really inconsequential.
The fact is, I know the way to Neverland.
I can take you there.
You don't have to believe me...

You simply have to take my hand.

Monday, October 7, 2013

Immodest mouse

There is a calm that can be reached.  Sometimes though, it's a real fucking struggle.  To brush it all off.  To find that place above, or inside, or wherever it may be...where all the shit just goes away.

Once upon a bazillion years ago, all the tiniest parts of ourselves, blew up in the most violent explosion imaginable.

Those tiny parts floated around the universe for a few eons, came together, made shit, broke apart, floated around, made more shit, broke apart, floated around... get the idea.

Then they all came together again, and here you are. 

Someday they'll break apart again, and we'll all float on all right.

Our tiny parts will separate, and fly in different directions.  They'll go on to once again form something new in some other place for a minute.

Thing is...those tiny parts, well, they just gotta dance.

There's a universal boogie, and ain't no wallflowers allowed.

And somehow, all those little parts decided to dance in the same place, at the same time, in the different bigger parts of you and me.

That's a neat trick.

Perhaps some tiny part of me, recognizes some tiny part of you from some previous dance across the cosmos.

Perhaps we were once part of the same something.
Perhaps we were born in the same star.

Perhaps we really were lovers in a former life.

On an atomic scale.

Maybe there is recognition of something much older than we can imagine.
Or maybe we're simply waiting to dance again.

For now though

For now we worry

about not enough money.
not enough sleep
not enough time.

Now we make excuses.
Now we make plans
Now we pretend that things are simply too important.

And we forget about what's important.

We forget that our tiny parts, need to dance, and soon...all too fucking soon...they won't be able to dance in these bigger parts of ourselves any longer...

And they'll all float on all right.

These little parts, only get to be one big part, for a very short fucking space of time.

And they'll all float on all right.

Before we float though...
Before the big part breaks down
And the tiny parts contiue their boundless flight across the cosmos..
to whatever the next destination may be
before we are once again
not but stardust

We have one fucking shot at glory.

All the stars
and all the galaxies have come together.
They've taken their place on the grand stage.
They've shone their lights down
picked up their instruments...

and goddammit

They're playing our song.

Every single rotation, is one less rotation we have.  Every spin, is one spin down.  

We can fly.
We know how.

There's nothing we can't reach.
There's no place we can't explore.
We are our only obstacle.

Let go of the fear.
Let go of the bullshit.
Let go of all the little things weighing you down.

Pick your ass up, and shake it.
Make it wiggle to the beat.

Up in the sky...giant balls of gas are exploding, the percussion of the universe.  Nubulae sing in b flat, and the chorus is only getting stronger.  If you're not singing along...'re missing one helluva show.

We can love.
no listen
we have a unique ability...

Fucking USE IT!!!

All those things...
the bags we carry
the hates we nurture
the miseries we nurse
the stress like bondage, strapping us to our guilt, and our pain, and our regret, and 
all those millions of things that annoy us, and make us forget...well...

they make us forget.

We can love.
no listen to me..
We have a unique ability.


Do you understand?

Our tiny parts have finally come together, into these tiny brains, and these tiny hearts, on this tiny planet...

Stop with the bullshit already.

Because the time is now.
The music is playing.
The dance has started 

and all too fucking soon, we're all gonna float on all right.

These tiny parts will only come together to make you
this one single time.

Don't fucking waste it.

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Love Letter

So here we are in our lazy circle.
Spinning through our daily routine.
Dancing around each other.  Glancing beyond the point of contact.  Who wants that anyhow?

We worry so much about ruining the fantasy.
So lets not.

Isn't it true that my smile might better in your sleep?

Oh so many things.  All the pretty little baubles. The trinkets, and shiny things.
The mess of memories I carry in my pockets.

Oh won't you be my new mess?

Swim in the river of existence. Of remininscence.  Of pain, and doubt.
and joy.
and love.

But don't get carried away in the flood of it all.

We are racing toward the end.
We are running for air.
We are not drinking because we are thirsty.

I think maybe...
just maybe...
we were meant for more.

Perhaps we are more than the sum of each of our separate parts.
Maybe not...
maybe we're safer to never find out.

I mean the truth is...
no matter what...
no matter how hard we try...
no matter how many I love you's...

The end is still just dirt.

We're safer just friends right?
We're free from pain...
if we simply ignore the I love you's.

The gray is so goddamned safe.
the security of that particular blanket is
just so warm
just so fucking fluffy.

I mean look at them out there.  The lovers.  Holding hands.  Smiling.  Laughing at their own stupid jokes, and pitiful nicknames.
Wrapping themselves up at night... each other.

Aren't you glad you locked up that part of you that thought that was something beautiful?
Something to hope for.
To want so badly for yourself.

You're happier now right?


You're better off without the distraction.

The tears of lonliness
though still tears
hurt less
than the tears
of heartbreak.

So you make yourself busy.
You make yourself scarce.
You make yourself invisible.

You make yourself despicable.
You make yourself hateful.
You make youself pretend.

Because if they don't see you that's great.
If they do see you, and hate what they see...

You know at least the things they see...
...and hate...
are simply the pretense.

You can't give them the things that are real...because
you know.

And you do know.
You know that part inside you that is
And yours alone.

Is safe.
It can't be broken.


Not again.
Jesus just can't do it again.

And so we dance our dance
and spin our circles
and laugh our lies.

and know that we are safe with each other
because we are determined.

We are statues.
We are stone.
We are those willing
to simply dream.