Wednesday, September 17, 2014

heartstrings and infinity

If you ever get to infinity
You will find me there
For tomorrow I will climb
The elementary stair.
I will climb to the very top
Open up the door
Look at all the ages
Lying on the floor.

-One Mind


Humans are naturally more responsive to physical phenomena than abstract phenomena. For example, children acquire language far better if they experience conversation from other human beings in person versus on television. Similarly, physical interaction with writing and paper tends to feel more satisfying for many, as many people report. [Reference.] Musical instruments capture a physical appreciation as well. There is something more satisfying about interacting with a mechanical device, such as a string instrument, with bare hands. Granted, some may feel that keyboards are more versatile than real pianos because of the possibility of combining a variety of sounds, such as the regular piano sound with strings or vocals. It becomes questionable what constitutes the boundary between mechanical/technological and not.


you tie my heartstrings around my wrists and hang me from the very stars I gaze at; then you pluck the strings with your tantalizing guitar picks, stealing melodies from my memories and casting them into the void. but I find a way to bring them back, to reel them in and retie the bow at my heart, and fire arrows of solitude stone dipped in choir music at your calloused hands

Saturday, August 30, 2014

143 feel, fall, conclude

those who have this close sensitivity to the world stand apart from the cold, unthinking, shielded ways of others; it's the difference of a recluse and a social frequenter - those who feel in quiet times, let moments seep by, and those who cling to the external world's praises and shouts. a strength and a weakness, this sensitivity. much more a weakness in these times when I deal with the odd opacity of those around me, the strange sense that there's something more there, yet teasingly let in only to be declined.

when I see something in the distance, I like to believe that I can feel that object there, feel the armies of clouds floating as I fly high above, feel the armchair rocking as I depart it at the airport, feel my momentum swaying the world behind me in my footsteps.

this here is my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. I wonder who can appreciate that.

this chapter has concluded though. I have tried to turn the page, and I think new words are about to meet my eyes. the problem is that my fingers are restless and sometimes want to turn back and glance at those twirling words of what happened and develop theories around them - but that is when your strength becomes your weakness: you overthink. not everyone has that order of thought, and when they don't and you deal with them, you end up deceiving yourself. remember, just hypotheses - nothing else. be objective.

hypotheses are not dreams.


mutual improvement with another would be fantastic.


why can't you just free me of this stockholm syndrome?

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

treasure mine

every time I see paragraphs of text; cabooses of words connected to form trains and trains of meaning; musical notes spread out across pages and pages – every time I see such things, I see a treasure mine of wealth, information, exploration; a mysterious depth as deep as space itself.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014


How do I truly internalize this wonderful summer? I feel as though I am squeezing a sponge to force out the oceans and oceans of happiness that had occurred, but I just can't quite squeeze hard enough; as though there is always more cold refreshing water to unleash, to seep out and hug my hands, to cleanse, to imbibe, to smell evaporate through your nostrils... This feeling. The endless layers that keep appearing no matter how many times I peel the onion. The depth in each word that was spoken - I yearn for it to be felt; the ephemerality of each smile - I yearn for it to be collected into a wooden box, locked into my heart, with the key tossed off a cliff. There is a force around me, a feeling from the mountains I see beyond the plane wing and clouds, the soft glow of light smeared by a paintbrush of God, stroking the horizon, painting a perfection that everyone else doesn't seem to yearn for; a touch of it, a smidge, is all my throat thirsts for, all my body aches for. I feel a mysterious force hovering about each object, each motion, each spin of a wheel along the cold concrete, each breath from the winds around the clouds I the distance. It tickles the edges of my senses, eliciting the tail end of a thread of my mind. I feel like I could swallow all oceans and still not fully quench this sensation at the edge of my senses.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

the game

the investment game is like reaching into a murky pool of water to dig for riches. many people aren't willing to go deep enough after dressing up in such a nice tux for so many years. they cringe when their sleeves are drenched in a soggy cold mud; they wince when the water coldly kisses their knees and reaches up their thighs; they can't handle this seduction.

but there are others, the clever ones, who use fishing rods to let the bait draw in the gold. these patient others let rain clouds drift away while they strum their guitar to songbirds under the sun. it's a witty trick, a ritual. triumph and disaster are just different costumes worn by the same creature to them. and the beauty is that they can play along their lives with no stress as life goes on.

all it requires is picking the right pond.