Short Circuit Firefly

you’re flickering decadence
a bulb’s decline
undying buzz behind my ears
occupy nearly every mind
flee when I come near
your unpredictable and short ellipse
up close impossible to predict.

you
and these bright watercolor yellows
project a lonely soaring star,
and a deliriously deep definition of far
fights to preserve your every shimmer
fights to make you brighter than you are

far is less beautiful when your shine dims
so cosmic firefly don’t be short
let’s walk and talk and be forever
live long after the sun comes up
it’ll drown you out to everyone but
me

we’ll sit and think and have our coffee,
new sky drowning the window gazer’s
dream star remnants of the night before
now invisible that heavenly body you once were,
deep inside me you’re always still out there
and i’m still pitching a deep black
until you burn out
until you burn me out

Random Update

Here’s a bunch of things I have in the journal that for whatever reason hadn’t ever made it down here.  Yes, I’ve written about my cat twice, and no, I don’t think that makes me crazy.

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Roscoe  4/08

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I look at him, all that must be known is in the glance.  He doesn’t get it.  I don’t get him.  Only on the rarest an occasion can I grasp any semblance of meaning in his actions.  But did I mention he is magical?

With just a flick of those long, slender, and thus very odd paws he brings to life previously inanimate creatures.  I long for and cherish these divine moments even more so than the scraps of tasty flesh he sometimes graciously shares.  I wager we shall never understand each other, however it truly is enough to have formed this inter-species trust and respect for one another.

Enough of my green eyed musings, I’m off to bathe and rest, I’ve been up for hours.  And then play, if the fates allow mine and his mental paths to cross once again.

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Dream #1

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The plane was taking forever to begin taxiing down the runway.  There weren’t many people on the plane and so it appeared huge and spacious.  I wanted to hurry up and get somewhere, it was already 5 pm.  As soon as I looked at the time the plane began moving.

Our tarmac was a freeway and we had to weave in and out of traffic not-so-nimbly (as you would expect from a giant airplane) while we accelerated up to speed.  It was nerve racking but we made it off the ground, just barely.  For some reason, even though it seemed our speed was sufficient, the pilot was not raising the plane into the sky, we just kept traveling a couple meters above the cars at breakneck speeds.  People really weren’t that worried around me, I was fairly worried.

Then, out of the blue, we collided at full speed with a toll booth that spanned the freeway.  It (obviously) broke the plane and we crashed after falling only about 10 feet down, we skidded on awhile.

I knew an explosion was imminent and in a slow motion movie-like fashion I ducked down with my head covered by my arms for protection.  I flew through the air a bit, when I landed I was okay; but I thought to myself that maybe I wasn’t and it was my adrenaline.  Nevertheless, I started looking for survivors.  I think I was yelling for them but I can’t be sure.  I stumbled through wreckage and some foliage, we must have crashed near the highway treeline.

Walking from the innards of the plane, I came to a group of survivors just standing around in what must have been the remains of the cockpit.  There was a curved screen of (somehow) intact glass, I was looking out of it with the rest of the survivors.  There was a person sized hole in the glass (that no survivors were using to exit the plane), I went to it.  A man then had the realization and made it evident to everyone that only the rear passenger portion of the fuselage had exploded and another explosion was imminent.  BOOM, as I ran through the glass and to the treeline, propelled by the explosion.

I turned around and saw frozen, charred, screaming, tormented, faces.  Dead and looking out of the STILL unbroken curved cockpit window with lifeless yet still very recognizable expressions of grief and terror.  The second explosion had taken the lives of every single one of them.

I was near the right lane of the freeway, closest to the foliage and treeline.  After seeing the second explosion cars on the road started swerving at me!  I was scared they were trying to kill me, I knew they did but it took a couple of seconds to realize why.  Then I just understood:  They wanted the surviving children for themselves.  Mass hysteria had somehow overtaken the freeway travelers in an instant.   They were all bloodshot-eyed, scary, crazy.

Upon realizing this, I ran into and through the forest to escape.  It was quite a narrow forest and soon I was out on the other side, which happened to be a nice beach.  I saw some Coast Guard speedboats patrolling the area off the shore, I knew they were looking for me, the last survivor (other than the children apparently).  I thought they were part of the mass hysteria event, trying to kill me, not save me.  So I promptly dove into the water and swam as deep as possible so they couldn’t find me.  Holding my breath for so long was not an issue, oxygen didn’t expend at any noticeable rate.

I arrived at this sort of resort on an island or peninsula and met a stunningly beautiful girl with dark hair and deep, dark, understanding, eyes.  She had a child with her I think, but it might have just been an empty stroller.  She understood my predicament after a brief, urgent explanation that ended when I told her that we needed to leave immediately.  She left to get all of her money out of the bank, for us.

fini/awoke

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Weird, self-descriptive thoughts that I felt necessary to write down   7/14/08

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I’ll do silly things, like avoid taking a shower by listening to The National/Boxer and waiting for a quote I really like and is appropriate for putting on my facebook profile.  Childish things, stupid.  Is it?

It’s beautifully composed music though, and it’s time to bond with Roscoe.

I’m watching and listening intently to the ink stain the paper.  The paper is more beautiful when empty, today.  Brainy brainy brainy.

You might need me more than you think you will.

Squalor Victoria.

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Circular  8/3/08

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Peaks & valleys,

a mountainous conductor

plays his notes on all kinds of scales.

Doe, ray me down

from the sun you velvety princess.

Rain down from the

skies in between

sighs, in between highs.

Circular, this life’s

joy over strife.

Circular but it’s appearance

is flat from human

ground.

Oscillating peaks & valleys, mountainous conductor

plays a circular

just like this life.

Hike and coast from

coast to coast,

go round and round

never really on solid ground.

Circular, this life’s

joy, joy

this flat human ground,

we all go around,

around, and around.

This circular life.

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Another inspired by Roscoe, whom I have learned much from.  8/15/08

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Like the strong-willed creature he has become, he respects his master’s hand, but will not be confined by its frequent appeals to become an imposition in an otherwise “free” life and mind.

We must learn from animals the simple reasons behind our complex mindsets; imbued ravenously with staunt guidelines since birth.  Only the ones who conquer near two decades of disillusions are ever nearly free.

Those who condition to emerge from the blindness of materialistic society begin to seek an effortless, natural, tie between intellect, social participation, athleticism, and spirit.  Interrelationships between science, art, and music currently represent my latest notion, or musing, on this mystical string’s composition.

(inspired also by The Glass Bead Game, by Herman Hesse)

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8/17/08

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He cried the same tear over and over, tilting his head side to side before letting the savory drop glide down to explore the rest of his bearded, charming face.

Protect the knife, protect the title.

Protect the nest, protect the title.

Two men in one of the above scenarios.