Semi-Daily Scribbles

A White, Hot Mess

You showed up late but in time for me to know the wait is over. No need to move slower. We've been running after each other through different timelines. What a crime. No surprise that we'd have never made it to see another sunrise had it not been for the signs. An early grave. No one saved until you and I realized we are:

2 Souls
1 Heart

A million different paths that'd bring us to this moment in time.
So clearly defined.

We can stop chasing after what has always been mine. Your heart. My remedy. Our souls entwined in perpetuity.

Love Language

How are you navigating the world right now? How did you process the world in which you reside before The Great Dismality? This realm in which we find ourselves has always been all rough edges with cruelty to spare. And beauty beyond compare. It still is, and that fact either brings you comfort or despair. I'm having to move through these troubling times with an even more determined step; a path that feels natural and right and not at all the path my neighbor may be traversing. Do we really have more in common with each other? Or have we swallowed the fairy tale, all the while choking on sentiments we have yet to reconcile? The only thing that feels normal right now is the ever present specter of what greets us when all the lights gutter and diminish.

Interpretive

 

Badgered

Dirk wandered into a fever dream disguised as an office cubicle. He'd just been assigned a post at a very important firm that made magic by counting numbers. He slid into an available stall and waited for work to flow in. Nervous thoughts pinged and boinged throughout his racing brain. A swath of perspiration that originated in his arm pits spread to the front of his baby blue button down chambray shirt. The boss lady said to Dirk "add up the columns" and "make the figures make sense." After a quick calculation, he couldn't get the centum to square up. He was now carrying a deficit on Day 1 and knew it to be grounds for termination. At prior engagements he had witnessed such horrors befall colleagues and refused to believe he'd be kicked out of the clan before lunch. Dirk missed the portends. He'd undervalued the projection. He envisioned his mother tossing his belongings into the street. He hearkened back to high school when he didn't make swing choir and nobody ever told him the reason why. Now, just like then, Dirk had presented an unsatisfactory performance that would forever be a mysterious blight on his ability to see/hear/feel the same vibrations as the rest of humanity.

A Space for the Aged

...and now a word about Substack. I'm an oldster who misses the MySpace and Tumblr era. Creative, fun hangouts where the cool kids held court. I don't recall ever having to dodge freak-a-zoids on those early social media platforms. Substack, however, is a different beast. I've only been an active "Content Creator" for a month, although I've had the Substack app on my phone for a while since I enjoy reading the works of a few of my favorite journalists and novelists. Still do, by the way. But no one DM'd me on MySpace to convey the message: "You have pretty eyes. I want to fuck you." How could a bookish nerd like me resist engaging with this gem of a human in meaningful literary discourse? It does appear, however, the creeps seem to be outnumbered by talented, smart, funny and kind writers with whom I've had great conversations. I've even summoned the courage to post a bit of my poetry which has generated a few Likes and comments. I'll stick with this Substack thing until the article reading, story sharing and pleasant chit chat is overrun by asshats.

When Detachment Is The Goal

Lament the idol rider
Memories arise while one
Browses the aisles
A roadside gift shop
Search for the perfect
Piece of Identity
Dark hair
Dark eyes
Scent of sage and chocolate
Strong Arms
Wind blew in through
The Cracks
We looked upon
Rolling Hills
Jade Forests
Through grease-smeared glass
And Paradise resides
Beyond the Next
Blind Curve

Keep Scratching
Keep Detaching
You'll Strike A Nerve
Someday

A Higher Degree of Love

It's been two days since you left this place to start a new journey. Odd thing, time. It holds no meaning, serves no particular purpose Right Now since I'm bouncing all over the place with all sorts of Memories & Thoughts. I'll be sharing snippets and photos for a while until I can write a proper thing to describe who you were and what that means to me. I've reached out to the Indio & PacNW crews and those good folks have told me how much they love/admire/appreciate you. They've all relayed similar messages about how you helped them become better people, both for themselves and their loved ones. That's a pretty cool thing for your pals to feel and pass along.

I'll keep this ramble short, but wanted to share that the date you took off for greener fields adds up to be The Number Nine:
Nine is often associated with completion and fulfillment. It represents the end of a cycle, suggesting that something has reached its full potential or purpose.

And yes...I'm still playing guitar...

Human Existence

HOMEWORK

What comprises generational trauma?
- Alcoholism
- Death by Suicide
- Denial
- Depression
- Drug Addiction
- Lack of Education
- Misogyny
- Poverty
- Racism
- Rape
- Schizophrenia
- Silence

Make a list of self-sabotaging behaviors.
Procrastination. Analysis Paralysis. FoMO. Poor Time Management. O.K. With Being Not Okay. Stare / Compare / Go Nowhere. Cheerleader for Everyone But Me.
Imposter Syndrome. Don't Always Speak Up Because People Comment On My Vocabulary? Inaction-Due-To-Distraction. Not Always Up For New Experiences.
Squirrel!

Survival, trials, experience are shades across the spectrum that make you/me not understand me/you. Common ground shifts with each step.

The sentiment meant something in the moment
And the moment's gone

30

wedding bells sound the news your body's been found
scatter rice
throw the dice
vegas resounds with tourist traps and vice
while the tides rise along the left coast
fishing boats are lost at sea
now it's just you and me
to navigate this soundscape
without your discordant chords

How To Qualify As A Human

Sometimes it takes a kick in the teeth to realize the thing you were good at as a kid is the antidote to being:
afraid, bored, cowardly, destructive, early, fretful, greedy, humiliated, indignant, jaded, kiboshed, late, misunderstood,
needy, obstinate, puerile, querulous, recreant, sad, tormented, unkempt, vitriolic, wishy-washy, xenophobic, You, zombified.