The road to nowhere

I recently in my life made a number of moves to elicit change.  Change in scenery.  Change in source of income.  Change of location.  Made some calls, online communication of sorts with various other people and organizations.  Threw my cards into the wind, to see what would come up.  I was rather, well, quietly aggressive about this.  Only a few people knew of certain plans, and none but myself knew all of my intent.

Turns out it was all to no avail.  Everything sort of fell flat.  Fell through.  And so here I am.  In the exact same place as I was when I started, and although I still crave the change, I confess a certain feeling of defeat.  I spend a great deal of energy, and at the end, the let down is just sort of...I want to say frustrating, but I'm too exhausted for frustration.

That old saying...Never tell God your plans.  I think that's a silly phrase for a number of reasons.  First off, I don't believe in the fella, and even if I did...I'm quite certain he wouldn't give two shits about my insignigicant little personal desires.  There is nothing in the history of mankind that indicates to me, he would operate on such a petty level.  He's much more into destroying nations, simply because a few guys like to get their shag on with each other occasionally.  He seems rather fond of grand spectacle.

So then there's the whole "Put your positive energy into the Universe" thing.  All that kinda drives me nutty too.  Anytime I hear it, I just wanna go..."Do you know what the Universe is?"  I'll tell ya.  The Universe is mostly an unimaginable expanse of emptiness.  That's right.  we look up and see stars and wonder, and yes, it does excite the imagination but...

but...

If you could see the universe, you would see a whole fuckton of nothing.  There is a LOT of nothing out there.  That nothing is big enough to hold billions...yes BILLIONS...that we know of, and quite likely even more than billions of galaxies and nebula.  And each galaxy also has a whole fuckton of nothing.  Like seriously FUCKTONS of nothing.  And each of those billions of galaxies in that hufuckinmongous universe is ALSO big enough to hold billions of stars.  BILLIONS of stars in each of those BILLIONS of galaxies in that one great big universe.

The mind cannot conceive...so don't try.  Or do.  Rock out, whatever.

Now each of those stars, potentially contains a system of planets and moons, and with a relative degree of probability...life.  Hell there's a good chance there's life right here in our solar system NOT on this planet.  Little microbes and shit floating around the oceans of Europa.

So inside that universe containing all those galaxies...ours is rather insignificant.  Inside this galaxy, our sun among the billions of others, is really nothing special.  And simply because we are the only conciously evolved species that we know of, doesn't mean that we're all that exist.  Seems kind of unlikely to me.
Face it folks...we're neat, but we're not THAT big of a deal.  Our ego is astounding, but reality even moreso.

So the idea that the universe is some wish granting machine paying attention to us, simply because we think happy thought and "send them out there", is just sort of weird to me.

I mean it's neat.  It is...to think that there is some grand plan, or divinity, or consciousness giving a shit about our well being.  It's romantic.  It's hopeful.  It's probably gotten a lot of people through a lot of rough times.  It's just not for me.

I'm also not egotistical enough to demand that I'm right.  Fuck it. I don't know shit...I very well submit that I'm wrong.  I just...well... I doubt it.

All that Deepak Chopra metephysics/quantum mechanics bullshit that he pushes to sell books...actually kind of has about as much to do with actual quantum mechanics, as Yeshua bar Joseph does to Christianity.  Which is to say none at all.

Then again, who am I?  If you're reading this, and you do get behind all that stuff...then...go for it.  Honestly.  Whatever you find in the spin around the burning ball of gas that brings you happiness, or gives you hope...then by all the gods that never were...eat that shit up.  Get as much of it as you goddamn can.  Seriously.  Be happy, in whatever it is that gives you joy.  Or peace.

I also do go for the whole "positive energy" thing.  Not necessarily in the putting it in the universe sort of way...but more in the "we reap what we sow" sort of way.  It does make sense that if the action is positive, so will be the reaction.  Unless you remember that reaction is equal and OPPOSITE.  Okay now I'm just fucking around.

Or am I?

I don't even know myself.  See the thing is, it also comes down to energy, and I done run out of it.

The human brain is wired for negative bias.  True story.  Whether this is genetic, or habitual, or conditioning...I really don't know.  But a bunch of guys in white coats who are way smarter than I am, have spent years studying human psychology and behavior have discovered this.  Negative bias is natural for the human condition.  We are programmed to think the worst.

Anytime we make a positive choice, that's what it is...a choice...against our programming.  Now we can make similar choices often enough that like any other muscle it becomes easier and easier...but we are still acting against programming.  It is simply easier to think negative than it is to think positive.  So positive thinking takes effort.  Especially for sustained periods of time.  Especially for sustained periods of time with no positive result for reinforcement.

I put this out there, not as excuse or justification for being or feeling or thinking negative.  I'm putting this out there as a public service.  A "The More You Know" sort of thing.

Negative thoughts are more natural, and easier to access than positive thoughts.  So it doesn't really do any harm to send positive thoughts/energy out to the universe, if thats the phrase you need...because at least you're making the choice to not follow the natural negative course.  So I'm not saying its a bad thing or idea...this whole universe worship thing that has become so popular.

The only thing that bothers me about it, is the idea that The Universe is actually a concious entity that will grant your wish if you just believe hard enough.  I don't mind a choice to be positive.  I just don't like the God replacement that it's become for disgruntled and misplaced formerly religious.

But that's just me...

And I'm off topic.

I do that a lot.  I ramble.  I say all the wrong things.  I piss off any number of people.  I talk circles and go nowhere.

Especially when I feel stagnant.  Which I do often.  I'm a restless sort.  There are some certain, specific things that I would like to happen, and well...they aren't happening.  I become focused on these things.  I make moves, extend effort, and then nothing happens.  And that's what kills me.  The nothing.
I am made out of patience...but I only have so much mass, and take up so much space.  So being made out of patience still is not an inexhaustable resource.

And so what happens is, I'm tired, and I don't want to play anymore.  I did the work.  I put out the positive energy.  I wore my smiles, and said my words, and they were all the wrong smiles.  And all the wrong words.

And I come to my bed, at the end of each day, and I wait.  I want.  I look up at those stars inside our galaxy, inside our universe, and I make my wishes, and send them out there.  Knowing full well the futility, but still exercising my frail human imagination.

I send my love to the ones I love.  Thinking of them.  Thinking of you.
Yes you.
I remember that although things may seem endlessly frustrating.  Fatiguing.  Infuriating.  This too is a cycle.  The down part of a roller coaster.
I know that the price of joy is pain.  The price of love...loneliness.  And I have had SO much joy, and SO
much love...and so the fare is due.

Its really just the greedy selfish part of me that wants you so badly.

So I'm still here.
Indefinitely.
All things...
as always...
On hold.

I'll wait for you.  I really will.  My imagination may never meet reality.
One who has wedded chaos as I have can never pretend to know a future...
But that can't possibly kill the hope of a bright one.
A better tomorrow.
A glorious disaster.

You know that thing when stars collide, and planets are born?
You and I should do that.

And all our yesterdays

We are so temporary, you and I.  Our fate determined at birth.  We feel so compelled to live our days as dreams, and dream our adventures in sleep.

Life's but a walking shadow

A fleeting moment.  A whisper on a slight breeze that passes in an instant.  We were born in stars, and will in a blink be dust.  All the things we meant to do.  All the things we've never done.  We are at some point nothing more than someone elses memory.  We craft the image of how we'd like to be remembered, but we hide the things worth holding.

I loved you, refracted. 

I tasted what you were.

I want to taste your am.

A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.

How many people did you touch today?  How many minutes of your hour passed in a wish of something different.

Something other.

Something else.

I hear your song, but I don't know your words.  My god, I want your words.  I want your joy.  I want your others and elses.

Giftwrapped in light and silhouette.

It is a tale told by an idiot

It is indeed.  Our leaders, and teachers, and priests, and presidents, and politicians all holding our best interests.  All showing the way to a better...

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow...

And do we really want to join in that dance?  

Full of Sound and Fury

and bluster and noise.  And I smile because I know the truth.  I hope you do too.

Signifying nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

We are going to not be here anymore.

That's going to happen.

Do you know that?

Do you?

Do you get it?

We only have right now.  We are better than they have made us.  We are better than we have allowed ourselves to become.

There is a real possibility for nobility. For something grand.  

They rape our time, 

and justify it with wage

not commensurate for living.

So live without wage.

Live without rage.

Live without guilt, or regret.

We are shackled only by our willingness to believe.  To pretend. 

We are set free in each other.

or

At least we can be.

There is a rage of love, burning iniside us just waiting for the opportunity to burst free. 

Your dance is not so disimilar to my own.

That brief candle will go out, out. And the darkness is all that will be left.  This shadow life for me, and for you will stretch with our own revolution.

We can be the infection

and the disease

and the cure together.

Our conversation does not have to end.  Our nights don't have to be so cold. Our days so grey.  The color is in the refraction of the light...not the light itself.

You don't understand yet do you.  The end isn't the point.  Everything ends.  Who cares.  Are you going to stop, before you start, simply because you don't like the final sentence?  Is fear of pain, going to prevent all the things that lead up to the pain?  Why?  That's where the good stuff is.

There is meaning in everything.

Nothing means anything.

Except I love you.

That's all things.

There is not a single part of you, 

That doesn't captivate every part of me.

I want your sin, and your salvation.

I want your petty gods to fight my own.

And our demons dance in bedsheets.

I want your best bad day. 

Your shadow life.

Your brief candle.

I want

I want

I want

Our story to be written.

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.
Or.
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 never...ever...in 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.
Colors.
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.
So...
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...simple.
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.

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.

Mostly

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...

love

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.

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...

...you 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...

Perhaps...

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...

...you'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.

WE. CAN. LOVE.

Do you understand?

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

and 

WE

CAN

LOVE.

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.

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...
but..
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.
And
the security of that particular blanket is
just so warm
and
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...
...in 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?





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
well
you know.

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

Is safe.
It can't be broken.

Again.

Not again.
Jesus Christ...you 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.

Once more into the breech...

Well you see her when you fall asleep, never to touch, no never to keep.

This came out all wrong the first time around.
Guess I'll try again.

Almost exactly a year ago, I began something that I knew from the beginning would not end well. That little place in me that feels things got all wrapped up in another person.  Our time was just a brief intersection on our seperate roads.  We knew we were both simply passing through.  So we passed together.  Then we waved goodbye, and went our different directions.

I played it off as cool as I could, but I also knew it would destroy me.

It did.

But I guess not really right?  I mean here I am.

I let myself become vulnerable with another human being.  I loved every second of it. I was never, at any moment...unaware of the disasterous consequences.
I've lived every day of my life since with those consequences.
I would do it all again without a second thought.  Without hesitation.

Over a year and a half ago, when I became single, I stated that it was my intention to remain so.  When I entered into that brief affair, I knew my resolution would remain safe.  There was no chance...ever...at any moment, that I would not still be single when it ended.

We started with a predetermined expiration date.  We ended right on schedule.

There is no getting that back.  There is simply holding on.

Since then has been a sort of emotional numb.

This is not depression.  Please don't think so.  I don't devote time or energy feeling sorry for myself, or hating my life.  In fact quite the opposite.  I'm typically very happy.

I'm also typically very numb.

I've reached a point I think where I might not want to be...but it's so
well
frustrating.

I meet new people all the time.
Why just today I was surrounded by so many beautiful faces...and I wanted, so very goddamned much, to feel something.
With anybody.

You know.
Spark.

I don't mean simply physical or sexual attraction.  I'm so accustomed to those things that I hardly notice anymore.

I mean the spark.  That connect that reaches oh so much deeper than the superficial.
Sometimes I think that I want that so badly that I may try too hard.
Or maybe that's just my imagination, and I don't try hard enough.
Or at all.

When I was eight or nine, my family took a trip to see my grandparents in Arizona.  The trip took us through Las Vegas.  It was my first time seeing The Strip.  The lights.  The buildings.  The people.

I had a feeling when we passed through.
I would live there someday.
It was more than a feeling really.
Now I don't believe in psychic abilities.  I don't really hold with any type of spiritualism.  I don't know about future recognition, or circular timelines, or forward projection.  For the most part I think it's all a load of bullshit.
But I distinctly remember that feeling of recognizing Las Vegas as home...the first time I ever saw it.

I never once felt compelled to move there.  There was never a reason for me to go there.
I ended up there.
It's true.  It's a long story that I'm not going into...but living in Vegas was one of the least planned things in my life.  It just happened.

Like I knew it would when I was eight or nine.

I have that same feeling about Chicago.
I don't know that I will ever actually live there.
I've never even fucking been there.
Not once.  Ever.

But I feel like I might end up living there someday.
I don't feel compelled to move there.
I have no reason to go there.
I don't really know much about the city at all.

Just a feeling.
But I don't trust my feelings anyway, so who knows.
If it doesn't happen, I won't be surprised.
If it DOES happen, I won't be surprised.

I am made out of patience.  Sometimes I just get these feelings that things will happen.  Sometimes those things actually do happen.  I never ever ever feel like I need to make them happen.  I just need to wait.  That's all.  Just wait.  So I do.

I get that feeling with some people too.  I see someone.  That's all.  Just see them, and I know that our lives will in some way intersect.  I don't feel like I need to make the intersection happen.  I just need to wait for our roads to cross.  Many times it takes years...but...everytime I've had that feeling about someone...
it's happened.  Ususally it's quite profound.

There are a couple people here in SLC, who I'm pretty sure we're gonna connect.
Then again...
I'm just as likely wrong.
I don't trust feelings.  Those things are fucking liars.

What I wonder.
What I sometimes think about is...
If the other person feels it too.

Does this person have a feeling of patient waiting?  Do they also understand that in time, what should be, will be?
Do they even know what should be?  I sure as shit don't.  I have no fucking clue.  I simply know that it's something.

Valentine Michael Smith said it best I think.  "Waiting is."
Grok?

The girl who I had a brief thing with last year...well see I've talked about the end of that story so many times, but never really the beginning.

I had met her years previously, and I knew...when we first met...that in time...
time...
Time is a miserable bitch, and so I have no choice,
but to be made out of patience.

I think, you and I may have a dance yet. So as long as there is music playing...

...Waiting is.