Recycled Transcendence

This thought dawns on him how cyclical his life has been. As if he never learns or perhaps is too stubborn to change, he looks for answers in all the same places like before.

The Time Wars are ending, but somehow even faced with his mortality he yearns for A Touch Eternal. The ancient ones mentioned that such a fate is bestowed on the chosen few. In works of art by brilliant scholars and etched into bathroom stalls is a vein of that spoken truth, The Utterance. As if, every child born of this galaxy knows that there is something out there around the next stellar system, but they lack the words.

We can only make primitive sounds in a cosmic symphony. We utter and babble as infants to the stars; their music closer to Giants that came before. Recycled. Evolved. Transcended. But not home... Far far from home.

Lost, adrift in the Sea of Galilee, he feels a storm coming. It has been too long since he made music. That his death will come like an aforementioned afterthought puts a smile on his face. Fuck em'.

He'll ride out the storm and find safe harbor as he has always done. And his starship will continue to fold space lapping experience upon experience a music compilation.

His home long since gone. He once again hits the reset button. This time he'll play the game as a wandering villein, a smuggler, a scoundrel.

He'll get home this life or the next. It's all in the touch. The right touch.

There's No Doubt and there's No Doubt

She Walks In Beauty...

Lord Byron captured her beauty by comparing her to the night. As I look out unto the stars, I'm awed by the vastness of the universe. Eternal night littered with speckled golden jewels.

Black, our favorite colors. I don't think spacey was the right word I was trying to convey... It's funny so it stuck. I thought of endless and eternal but I couldn't say it... Eternal night, eternal black... It is scary.

Then she gives me knew meaning... Black is not so alone. Black is not emptiness... It's proof that despite the void, despite it's vastness all we have to do is reach out... We connect with music, with light, with Love.

She walks in beauty like the night,
And I being Apollo's son find myself glimmering in her prescence.
And all I want to do is hold her hand,
Together, we traverse the endless night.
A Love Eternal.



-- Post From My iPhone

By Her Side

"I don't care."
"You don't care?!"
"No, I care. Just that..."
"No. No, you don't get to qualify that. You do or you don't!"

It was the fury of her intensity that caught Jacob off gaurd. The way Alice's tone shifts and her brow wrinkles makes him uneasy. Always had... probably always will. No, not probably.

"The Wedding's date has change three times already. I know you want it to be perfect, I do too. But we can't keep pushing it back. He's going to be there or not." As he spoke he feels that familiar turmoil. It's my thing he tells himself. Don't tell Alice she doesn't need to know. She's got a wedding to think of.

"Well he better or I'm never going to speak to him again." He knows it's not true as much as she did. "He says he's got the tux you sent. He needs it sized."

"I got it sized like you asked hun." He had to turn down box seats to do this for Alice, for them. The Lakers were playing the Celtics. The game was won with a buzzer beater by Kobe. 99-100. He missed it.

"He says he's put on some pounds. It's good right? He's always been too scrawny." He wonders if she realizes how her voice picks up when she speaks of him. He realizes how trancending that particular tone is whenever she uses it. It's her Re-living the Past voice and it's her What If voice combined in this controlled present.

"He'll be there. You'll see. I wouldn't want to miss your wedding for the world." He smirks, she catches his meaning, and they have a moment.
"You better not!" she warns.

He refocuses on the road. Thinking.
She looks at him. "What's wrong?" Careful. Open ended questions can be deadly traps.

"It's just... It's undue burden is all. He's got enough sense not to worry you. I mean he's got any sense at all he'd be there. You don't worry about a few pounds and sizing your tux if you're a no show."

Alice let's it go. There's always depths to Jake but he never reveals more than he has to. He's only ever whispered his soul to her and her alone. "Yeah, he'll be there. Or not. It doesn't matter we're still getting married."

"That's what I meant earlier." They kiss.

He makes a note to call Her best friend. Screw getting it sized. Get here for the reception. He, Jacob, will fly a tailor out if needs be. You owe it to me. You owe it to her. He'll come, Jacob thought about sending his brothers for retrieval. Maybe... maybe not.

One thing's for sure. Not probabaly. Not probably at all. He'll always be by her side.




-- Post From My iPhone

My life would suck without you.

I’m at work, doing data entry, and this song throws me on a tangent.

That proverbial ‘you’, who could you be?

“So many faces in so many places,” I have said before.

There is an untouchable incorruptible better than yourself kind of ‘you’.
Is it fiction, imagination, a leap of faith, or perhaps ‘you’ do exist?

I’m at work, doing data entry, and this song throws me on a tangent.

Human beings project. Before us are our dreams and that which does not exist yet.
Before us is a future undetermined and possible of change. Human beings evolve.

That proverbial ‘you’, who could you be?

You are me, or at least me as how I would like to be. You are me, that part that makes it less lonely. The missing link, the homecoming, the pieces of my heart, and through you I, we, evolve.

“So many faces in so many places,” I have said before. And we are all that proverbial ‘you’. And my life would suck without you.

I haven’t done this in some time.

I had quite a bit to drink this evening. It being St. Patrick’s Day, I had to celebrate because it had always been one of my favorite holidays growing up. In middle school, that’s pre-secondary school, it was the day we looked forward to pinching or being pinched by certain classmates. Usually, for my part, I remembered the green, but there were a few years I had to endure the “pinch” because I had forgotten to wear green that day. Tonight, I remembered how I loved this holiday, and how in my adolescence I crossed the threshold of personal space and expressed how I truly felt about a certain some one. There were different types of pinch, and yes they all hurt, but some more than others. One that particularly hurt was from H.S. Tonight, I looked at every face in the bar, and was hoping to see her. There was no particular reason or plan, and it was really a fool’s hope. I just felt that tinge of reverie, and when you dream of a moment for so long, you start seeing it everywhere. I should have pinched her harder when I had the chance. I still remember her pinch, but could she remember mine? Every St. Patty’s Day it’s all the same. I think of H.S and wonder, is tonight the night I run into her again? Because this time, she would be in for a hurt of a lifetime, and she won’t surely forget me. It’s only fair, she completely owns this holiday for me.

Ice coffee, sangria, and then...

I was tripping off of both ice coffee and sangria last night. Here's what I came up with:


I woke up with a fearful spasm thinking the worst had come. She had past before I could tell her what purpose she played. It rendered my existence obsolete and void. I clung to her rock, and kissed the cold. This will be my marker that I come home to from now on. I am at once both free and vacant.

I long and live as a wraith among men, drifting through life compensating vitality with longevity. In my wretched old age, I find myself back upon that rock, and there you were. Briefly like a ghost, you dance in the light. I run towards the horizon to my midnight hour, and dying I whisper my spell. I dance in the wind for all to hear. I now join the voices of all the forlorn. I live on in eternity on the hind winds of an afterthought, wishing if only.


Yeah, I woke Monday with the thoughts again, and I tried all day to find a way to explain it. Of course, what I ended up doing was repressing it even more. So here, for all the world to see.