Thoughts And Musings

I thought our traumas aligned

That yours meshed up with mine

But all I could see was me

And it was the same for you

I felt unappreciated and unheard

That your time was undeserved

And it was the same for you

Miles apart

Why did my heart

Choose something

To open old wounds

To be consumed

Consciously or not

I guess I thought

This would force me to grow

I just hoped

That we would grow together

Harkens hateful hedonism

Be here now today

Do not worry or wallow

“Did you see that one?”

“With the green tail?”

“Yeah man”

James thought back to his applied physics class and remembered that for carbon to emit green light it had to be burning around 185K. If he had pen and paper, he could probably work out a formula for how fast these meteors were traveling and when the next shower would be, but from his current position on his back in the middle of the Blue Ridge Parkway, all he could think to say to Greg was; “thanks for bringing me all the way out here. I’ve never seen a meteor shower this clearly”.

“Yeah man. I figured there wouldn’t be anybody on the road this late at night, and this vista is far enough away from town to not have any light pollution.”

“Crazy to think that those stars died thousands of years ago and we’re just now seeing their final explosions.”

“Makes you wonder what the effect of some of the things we’re doing right now may be in our lifetimes. If those stars are providing us this lightshow from a thousand years ago, what does that mean for the first date I set Kevin and Toni up on tonight? Where are those ripples gonna lead, if anywhere?”

“Right? Everything’s connected and all part of the same story. Even crazier to think that some people think we’re alone in this universe.”

Greg chuckled to himself and reflected back to a week ago at just about this time. He was walking out of the tattoo parlor with a new piece that covered most of his thigh depicting his recent experience with abduction...by some form of sentient otherworldly creature. 

“Yeah man, we are not alone. That’s for damn sure. This universe is too big, and there’s too many anecdotal references to encounters and sightings for all of them to be wrong.”

James thought about a probability problem he had worked on a few years back where the discovery had been that the odds of being the only sentient life in the universe were about the same as getting struck by lightning a second time while holding a winning lottery ticket.

“You’re right Greg, there’s no way we’re alone out here. The probability of that is astronomically low.”

Jackson’s arm had made it to chest level before the words his sponsor had told him came crashing into his consciousness.

“Your amends to that woman is to never talk to her again!”

He scratched his chin in an effort to pretend that that had been his intention all along, and pushed his open mouth shut again. He had been right on the brink of shouting her name and waving to her from across the street. MaryKate was walking unhurriedly by herself, and it had been years since Jackson had seen her. He had had to double take when he saw her, but once he had ascertained that it was, indeed, his ex, his instinctive need for attention had almost done him in.

Jackson was a little more than a year and a half sober, and his sponsor had told him that in MaryKate’s circumstance, he was going to have to make a living sacrifice in order to amend his behavior. He could no longer call her when he was feeling low, or when he wanted to share some exciting news. He couldn’t stalk her on social media, and he should respect her wishes to be left well enough alone. He was willing to communicate openly and honestly with her if that’s what she wanted, but yelling at her from across the street probably didn’t qualify as letting her have her space. Besides, she hadn’t told him she would be traveling to New York on this trip, and he was sure that her husband wouldn’t want them talking anyways.

As Jackson turned his face away from her he caught a glimpse of himself in the shop window. He wondered if she would even recognize him. Definitely not from across the street. He had a beard now...and hair. His clean-cut frat boy look had been replaced with an appearance he referred to as “homeless hipster”. His bushy beard needed a trim, and his long mane of dirty blonde hair was pulled into a sloppy bun. MaryKate looked stunning as always, but the pearls around her neck and the diamonds in her ears told Jackson that she was doing much better financially now than they had ever achieved together.

And so, he maintained his silence. His living sacrifice for this woman. He wanted to sit and talk and explain himself. Ask her how she had been, see what her life was like now that she was married to Josh. Reconnect and reminisce on the past. Catch up on how things had changed since they had broken up 4 years ago. He wanted to tell her how he was sorry for hurting her and that he had started to clean himself up a bit and try to get back on track. He just wanted to talk. But the last time they had chatted had ended in a shouting match. And the last words he had heard from MaryKate were “and if I never talk to you again, that will be fine by me!” And now she was happily(?) married. He knew his silence would go unnoticed, but at least in so doing, he wouldn’t be unearthing past trauma and pain for her. He glanced back across the street one more time, but the moment had passed. MaryKate was rounding the corner—disappearing into the heart of the metropolis and fading from Jackson’s memories.

My heart has been gathering dust on a shelf, unfortunately

Beside a box of condoms that I use more frequently

Man-slut, gigolo, fuckboy if you will

It’s not death, but tomorrow that we part until

But tomorrow sometimes comes in the dead of night

And I’ve never even seen your face in the daylight

Gathered my things, crept out, disappeared

And spared my heart of all the things I’ve feared

Compartmentalization, emotional detachment

It’s much safer than real love and attachment

But I’m pretty good in bed, haven’t you heard my reviews?

I know exactly which parts to be used and to use

But my heart, it sits safe and protected

In a ribcage on a shelf where it can’t be rejected

To open up, be vulnerable, to be honest and real

I can’t even remember how that might feel

It’s been so long there’s such a thick layer of dust

Compounded by disuse, misuse and mistrust

To unlock the cage and set this heart free

I have no assurance that it would be given back to me

If I put it willingly on the chopping block of life

Would it be bartered, taken whole, or diced with a knife

Would it be able to love, is that muscle still strong

Or has it withered away, since it’s been so long

I want to feel butterflies, excitement, and nerves

I’d like my heart to be with another it deserves

But without its armor, its cage, its protection

It could be damaged by loss or rejection

It’s much safer to lock it away on a shelf

But I’m also tired of waking up by myself

There’s only one way to really set it free

Willingly give it to someone and then wait and see

But vulnerability and patience are uncomfortable and weird

And have historically been things to be feared

I’m scared and unsure if I really want to grow

But I know that I want my true feelings to show

I want to listen and care and be kind and share

Is my future partner somewhere out there

I don’t know where to go, what to say, what to do

I enjoy the weather in the summer

Playing outside is anything but a bummer

I learn as I play and grow

And more and more realize the less I know

Is it fond memories of days gone by

Or is it that I never grew past a young guy

Am I re-creating days of old

Or am I recreating and being bold

In the adventures and games that I play today

More high stakes and never really at bay

See life for me is naught but a chance

To play, enjoy nature, and flow with the dance

Of the rhythms and rhyme of nature and time

For I now know that this life isn’t mine

To dominate, manipulate and endure

But to be useful and happy, of that I’m sure

So as I re-create my conceptions

Why oh why do I diy?

Is it because I was told to always try?

Did I not learn that it’s ok to ask for help?

Or was the help that was given unappreciated and conditional?

I know that many hands make light work

But are there too many chiefs and not enough Indians?

Who gets to be the queen bee?

I wish I wish that I could just see

Inside my honeycomb mind that doesn’t allow

For others to be right right here right now

If you want it done right, DIY,

A gross and dirty habit

One that I use as a crutch

And when I relapse it’s a casual dagnabit

My grandmas secret drawer in the hutch

It’s been casually acceptable for my whole life

The finger wagging and scolding very minor

And no sincere cause for grief or strife

Even as an underage minor

Legal at 16 and permissible on the sly

I could hide and sneak and have a way out

Of social situations and not get high

But be able to excuse myself without

Having to say “I’m uncomfortable”

Excuse me please I need to step out for air

Just became comfortably “I need a cig”

And then, room to breathe carcinogens

It’s unhealthy I know, but I can’t say no

By myself I need room to breathe

At first glance from a distance,

My life looks peachy keen

I live in a place that is gorgeous,

And even my skin has an oily sheen.

My eyes do glow with a vibrant radiance

But the brightest star will burn out in time

And the supernova explosion is entertaining

From a distance.

At first glance and by all appearances

My life looks like I want to portray it

I’m having a blast and things are awesome

But maybe it’s because I don’t know how to say it

I want help, and need it too

But is that ok, and alright by you?

Would you be willing, and are you able?

If so, come sit, gather round the table.

Whether we be near or far

I would like to have your input

Ma and Pa

Is that ok? Am I allowed to ask?

Or is this but another mundane task

That I should be able to handle alone

Keep your distance walk fast you lone

Ranger, dog, wolf in the pack

“You know that we always have your back.”

I do I do, but is it ok?

To bother you and intrude on your day

Or would you rather spectate from a distance

I speculate that you could if given the chance

Sweet and salty tears

Of joy this time not sorrow

Clever

A word that by its existence

Exemplifies its meaning

An adjective with no

Superlative

Clever though you may be,

Cleverous? Cleverity?

It’s also tough to conjugate

Don’t you see?

How on Earth did clever get to be?

Who determined its place in the vocabulary?

Merriam?

Webster?

A thesaurus no doubt from the Mesostoicism era

Long since unearthed, dug up,

Brushed off

Sitting on display at your local

Paleontologist’s shop