Wednesday, April 25, 2012

"Landslide"

Some songs have more meaning as time passes . . . I've long thought that I would one day have my own radio show and I would play original songs and then their covers. I'd play "Landslide" first.

Monday, April 16, 2012

A Vonnegut Quote

I am reading only my second Kurt Vonnegut novel. I think after I read Cat's Cradle, my mind was too blown . . . but now I have picked up Breakfast of Champions. It's amazing. I was reading during my lunch break and someone asked me what I was reading and then asked if it was a self-help novel. I shouldn't have been so quick to scoff because, in a sense, the book is helping me--helping me realize that I'm not the only one who sees the world in such a way, helping me understand the creative impulse and what to do with such creativity and nihilism. It's just nice to not feel alone and to take refuge (whether it's really warranted or not) in a shared sense of being.

And not only that, but this, too!:

"I can't tell if you're serious or not," said the driver.
"I won't know myself until I find out whether life is serious or not," said Trout. "It's dangerous, I know, and it can hurt a lot. That doesn't necessariy mean it's serious, too." (88)

Book Recommendation

In case you like young adult fiction and/or science fiction and in case you haven't read it, then you need to read Nancy Farmer's The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm.

You will be all like, "Where has this book been all my life?" And I'll be all like, "Dude. I know."

It's just amazing.

And now some asshole kids are reading her other books and I can't check them out of the library. Go reread the Hunger Games already, kids.

Owl Sighting

I've heard that an owl portends death,
and maybe a death is what we need . . .


This morning, in the last of the night light, an owl came and landed on the electric post by the backyard fence. The doggy who needed to go potty didn't notice, and the owl didn't seem to notice us. She was just to the left of the beautifully waning moon. She looked around and then flew straight out, into the darkness of a tree.

It was the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time. The owl, the moon, the dark morning sky, the shadows. The sense of magic combined with such things . . .

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

The End of the World

Thoughts from a version of myself:

I bet we got obstinate. We were lounging around asking questions about why we were so happy. What is there to do in such a state?

God had no answers, and we got angry. Angry and angrier. "Why? What?" Our days were perfect for malcontents. Perfect for asking questions about beginnings and ends. But there were no answers.

And we had a choice to end those days and what could we do but say yes (our first one of all time). Yes to go down and yes to seeing a place where we could see how it would all end. (No one wanted to say yes to the beginning. Too boring. Too fast. Hydrogen.)

So we were sent here to this time and place.

Sent to see the contrast between death and life. Catalog the deaths and destruction. There is no going back from this carbon dioxide place. There is no home for life forms that didn't have to die. There is not enough home for a species that makes decisions for every other species.

It cannot be undone.

Amongst other actions that cannot be undone: red bud blossoms, two rabbits who choose to stay and eat instead of running, light reflecting off the clouds while the sun sets. Beauty. Beauty cannot be undone.

I feel fragile. I feel I am a filter in need of cleansing. My life makes no more sense to me now than it ever has before. But I feel that on the return I'll be able to tell God something. I will have a rapt audience of one or none. I will say that I noticed. That I asked for it all and I saw what I could. I did what I could.

I saw a man pause in a park to look at the sky. I think he was just struck by it. And I saw him noticing this world.