Well, Life

Life is so confusing, you know. Here we are, trapped on this little rock of a planet in a Universe that is larger than we can possibly imagine. All alone.


We ask ourselves the question, why are we here?

What's the point?

What's the meaning behind life?

And it's so easy to answer that there is no point. That there is no meaning.

And maybe that's true.

But life is so beautiful. What we have, here on earth, is so beautiful. And if we keep asking ourselves that question over and over again, we might just miss it.

So why ask?



-Christopher

Observations of a North Carolina Lake: A Poem Series

Early evening:

A sailboat drifts across the lake
Like a solitary puff of cloud
It cuts through ripples in the water that are
Like a million tiny sand dunes
As it floats under the peaceful blue sky so it looks just
Like a painting

4 o'clock or so

Red ants scale my feet, which must looks like mountains
As they rest against the warm, coffee-colored boat dock
The lake moves in a thousand directions
Yet somehow it is still

Half an hour later

An idle motor boat slides by me
Not thirty yards away
A party of angelic aristocrats sit inside
And chuckle at some tasteless joke
But a girl, clad in black, sits
On the boat's nose, in the sunlight
She's in her late teens, with sandy hair
Flying behind her like a flame in the wind
I see the sky reflect in her eyes
And I want to wave, shout, swim after her
But I also know that I fall in love with every girl I see
Sitting on the nose of a boat in the sunlight
And it strikes me as I watch her
That she's probably a bitch

Around 6 o'clock

As my skin breathes the cool air
The water tickles my feet
I sit on the rocks on the lakeside
And look into the sky
Where the clouds tell stories

Before Breakfast

Wiping the silver orbs of sleep from my eyes
I suck the dew drops off my lips
And steal a glance at the lake through the window
It's been singing while I slept, you know
And drinking in the quiet whispers of my dreams

Morning Swim

We leap off the boat dock like birds
And shatter against the lake like ice sculptures
I look up at the sky and smile as I see
Where the strawberry lips of dawn
Kissed the faintly yellow sky
Swimming is so wonderful
Strange to think that you can stand up
Without your feet touching the ground
Although I imagine that that's the case
More often than we think

The Lake at Noon

The risen sun burns holes into the lake
And the solid wall of trees bend over
To look at their smoky reflections in the water
There's a whole world to be found behind a mirror
And there is one beneath the lake surface as well

Evening Swim

The setting sun sets off fireworks in the sky
Oceans of color above our heads
The lamps ignite on the lake side
And locusts screech their melodies
Red, orange, and purple waves lap at our skin
My brother says it feels just like
Swimming in the sunset

An Hour Before Noon

The air rustles like dry leaves
As we wade into the hot, shallow water
Where the lake is golden
Sand settles on top of our feet
So that our legs look like ancient statues

After a Storm

The rain has found cracks to settle into
And sunlight peeks through the clouds
The cool, moist air has suddenly become self-conscious
And everything feels so much more real
Richer and fuller and healthier
Looking at the mountains kneeling in the distance
Almost like gods
And hearing the slap of the lake against the bank
I can't help but
Feel infinite

Midnight Swim

You and I plunge into the black water
And it's as though we're swimming in the night sky
Fragments of stars glinting on the surface
We are both the sun and the rings of ripples around us
Are the maps of our orbit
The tiny glass bubbles floating on them
Are the atmospheres of little planets
As you glide over to me like a shooting star, smiling
Your pale body so ghostly under the water
As you kiss me, floating there in the night sky
I know that I am where I'm supposed to be



This fortnight's Blog of Specialness would have to be Lemons Don't Make Lemonade which can be found, as usual, on the top of the page. It's delightfully lewd, and I think you'll find it amusing. I can only hope to one day grow up to be like her.

Massaging my temples,
Christopher

Some thoughts on the mindset of the human race...

After spending several weeks reading the works of Friedrich Nietsczhe, and after observing the world around me on a park bench while smoking Parliaments, I came to ask myself the question, what gave human beings the idea that they are the rulers of the Universe?

How did they come to adopt this massive ego? What makes them think that they are superior to all animals on the planet? That they belong in a different category from the other creatures of this earth? What makes us think we have the right to pump chemicals into the earth and burn holes in the ozone? Why are we under the impression that the world revolves around us? So those are all of the questions I've been wondering about. And I came up with this answer:

The toilet. And indoor plumbing.



I'm going to be gone for the next week to stay at the lake house of one of my dad's friends. I'm going to go ahead and keep Stars and Boulevards as this fortnight's Blog of Specialness. But remember to come back and check up on me! Keep posted! Don't leave me to die here. Please.

Trying to figure out what the word "voluptuary" means,
Christopher

I Think That Something Is Profoundly Wrong with Me

I don't know if it's this little chunk of brain tissue that I'm missing, or if it's some loose wire within my mind, but there's something inside my head that's just not right. For as long as I remember, I've never felt like I was a part of this world. A part of the human race. A part of myself.

I find the Universe to be disturbing. Perplexing. Magnificent. Bizarre. Miraculous. Disgusting. Beautiful. Hideous. Terrifying. That's it most of all. I find it to be absolutely terrifying. And I can't be happy. I don't think I can be truly happy. Not with the entire Universe--the terrifying Universe--watching me and looming over me. Somehow it feels like I have the weight of the Universe on my shoulders, not because I'm a part of it, but because I'm not.

Oftentimes it feels like everyone else in the world knows a secret they're not sharing with me. How can they be happy? How can they smile? How can they fall asleep at night and dream their sweet dreams? I can't fall asleep--I can't dream--not with the weight of the Universe on my shoulders.

There's something that doesn't work with my memory, I think. Or maybe it's not my memory. But it's something. I look in the mirror sometimes and realise I have no idea who I am. I feel like a disembodied spirit that has just possessed a living man. I feel like a stranger in my own body. Have you ever looked in the mirror and felt like you were staring at another person? Have you ever touched your face and felt certain that it wasn't yours?

I do the same thing with my family. With my closest friends. I look at them and know that they're my family or my very dearest, my most treasured friends. But they're strangers. How can I possibly know these strangers--love these strangers--when I can't even know myself?

I get these moments when I feel like I've just awoken from a deep sleep. I look around me with wide, frightened eyes and try to make sense of what I see. But nothing does make sense. I don't understand it.

I feel like I've been living life with my eyes closed.

And I don't think I'll ever be able to open them.

A Brief But Enjoyable Guest Post by L., of [I Am Unimaginative]

A link to L.'s blog can be found right here.

Have you ever had those moments in your life where you suddenly realize you've said the wrong thing and you wish with all of your heart that you could take it back but you can't because you don't have a time machine and even if you did you wouldn't know how to use it because time machines are from years in the future and we have absolutely NO IDEA how to use the blasted things anyway if we even did have them and then you realize that what you just said may or may not have changed the course of your life and you get very disturbed by this notion and then you go and eat a bagel or a carton of ice cream and you watch some television or read a book and forget all about what you said until it comes back in twenty or so years while you are at work when you suddenly realize that one of your coworkers went to your high school and was the person you said that thing that you wish you could have taken back but couldn't because you didn't have a time machine and even if you did you wouldn't have known how to work the blasted thing anyway because the stupid thing was too advanced for our time and then while you were off online searching for a time machine construction manual you had a terrifying thought that what you said but didn't mean to say could have potentially just changed your life entirely and you get so scared that you stop looking for a time machine and delete your Internet history so you can never look back and then you go eat a bagel or a carton of ice cream and watch some comedy show on television or read that book you've been meaning to and forget what you said until that very moment twenty or so years later when you are standing in front of the coworker whom you knew in high school and was the recipient of that horrible thing that you said but didn't mean to say that has somehow come back to haunt you?

Ever had one of those moments?

Yeah, neither have I.

You Know, Texas Is Pretty Hot

And I don't just mean that cowboy boots turn me on--the heat in Texas is very seriously blistering. One is forced to cope by bathing in bath tubs full of ice cubes and keeping the refrigerator door open as a secondary measure for air conditioning.

I had a wonderful trip, especially my four-day mission trip to New Orleans to help re-build. I won't go into the detail because my fingers are tired and I'm sleepy and it's too hot and I'm hungry, but I will tell you that it was a life-changing experience, beg you to go there too, and link you to this website about the disappearing land in Louisiana: Bayou Grace. Did you know that the equivalent of a football field of land is lost to the ocean every THIRTY EIGHT MINUTES in Louisiana? Maybe you can't go down there to help, but just see what you can do. Run along now.

Now, please, help yourself to a poem.

Swift Apocalpyse

Deep in the dim-lit catacombs of a classical art museum
Suspending somewhere in space near the French impressionist room
Herds of disfigured elephant people graze in flowing fields
Sheparded by angels with golden wisps of hair
The skies are milky and running thin
So that the heavens show through the melting clouds

Yes, it was a short poem. And yes, it may not have seemed worth it. But perhaps I can compensate by posting this picture of an infant howler monkey.



Eating cheddar & sour cream chips and plotting to take over the world,
Christopher