Dimensions of Memory

Today’s topic is about being personal. That means the flow of these words are supposed to be close to my essence and about something more tangible to what I might think about or muse about, or ponder over, or even deal with on a day to day basis. So, to jump right into to it… Chaos!29818832163_91832c4010_k

Or at least a complex flow of mind that starts with a calm blank gray slate and then slowly picks up motion and color until at some point my rational reasoning ceases it’s logical flow and the universe inside my nogin turns left and falls down. Thus everything starts running along a path into an area of darkness that is what some people might consider the standard consistancy of the every day emotional thought process. Did you catch all that?

If you didn’t, no matter. As the real reason for me writing today is a conundrum in itself and if I could even half articulate the emotions of the moment, I might actually come upon the reason for life, the universe and everything else. So it’s okay for you to be baffled and confused. If you need to use the bathroom, it’s off the left and down two and half steps. But be careful of the trip wires that my mind left along the way. Oops. It’s okay to yell out if you’re having issues assessing the true nature of my personal state. The quicksand can work rather fast I’ve been told.

Now that the preamble is out of the way, I shall dive into the thought that warps and pours from the inner reaches of my soul.

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“It was an old place. Dusty perhaps, or at least the scent of dust upon the stale windows. Aging glass cracked with time, rotting wood without, one strong to keep the windows safe. An irony of time had occured, as a few shards of glass littered the floor.

It was alone, or at least that was my muse. Old stuffs laying in odd ways, their time, a passing memory that no one remembered. Yet, there was life, or the decay of what might have been. A banana peal, an empty pudding package and the occasional rat and mouse droppings. Silence, other than my curious slow breathing.

It was a choice. I came to let my curiosity take the lead, my feet following the thoughts of those old boards, cracked wall plaster and old faded picture frames tilted upon that one lone hallway. The enterence was the main room, the backroom a bathroom, or at least was in times gone past. Now, only a fold out cot with squeeky springs and a canvas top lay ready for a midnight crash of some secret neighborhood meeting.

It was a shiver. A passionate desire perhaps that bade me continue into this place. A need to understand it’s very essence, so that my own might find enlightment. That was why, or at least how I would explain it in years to come.

It was an inch, a chill and a shiver as thread by thread, clothes, top, bottom and more fell to the floor. They would lay quiet and unheard along with the shoes and stockings.

It was being that burst upon the soul as the cold canvas connected with the skin, hair laying where gravity would take it. The cealing full of questions and cobwebs, an imagination of the tales that it could tell if it could speak in a language I might hear.

It was cool, nothing but reality. At peace was the beating heart, alive the spirit racing around the room. Excited, knowing that I might not be alone, some eyes having chanced upon my pale flesh. Perhaps… Yes, a dream maybe. Or mabye some flow from a deeper place within the essence that I was at the moment.

It was a moment. A time, a piece of a watch’s guard, clicking away for only a short while. A memory of a musty old place, a dusty piece of history, a scent that would linger with me for all my days.

It was about being alive.”

No one can say that memories can’t be full of twisted and bizzare things. Sometimes we remember an incident in technocolor and each and every time our mind slides towards that date, our thoughts explode from feelings of yesterday. Other times, memories are like a cracked vault leading to some dark and scary labrynth, that even the greatest of “Indiana” types would pale and turn from.

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Such is life. Mine, yours or the person next door. You should ask yourself the next time your mind perks up some strange bubble of yester year, “What am I really thinking about?” You might just find that answer is far more impressive than those dark and scary places.

Classification or an Abstract Distract

Classification.

Just another word in the human languages. Or at least that’s one might think on the surface. In deeper musings upon this somewhat unremarkable formation of letters and characters, we find that within its preset composition of glyphs, there is in fact a dark force that commands humanity to do great evil.

Humanity must classify everything or die! Or at least it seems, doesn’t it? Humanity has achieved greatness in the scientific worlds by classifying as many things as it can. Scientists love to group like things together to better understand them. One might even go as far as saying mathematicians follow suit on this matter.

Yet, take a moment and look around you. How many things do you classify in your everyday life? How much of it really does the world any good? I bet you found yourself looking at your neighbors and thinking about how they go to a different church, or are perhaps a different color of skin, or that they own a gun and your unsettled by that, or that you can’t understand why they don’t talk much to you because of your gun case with twenty rifles.

I pause… You ponder… Classification. Just how many things did you find that you classify without much fore thought?

The reality. We are human beings. We are Earthlings. We are carbon based life forms. We know how to feel, we know how to communicate and we understand the great emotion known as pain when we are hurt by over-classification.

So, when I hear people talk about “Black lives matter” or “He for She”, I cringe because the very basis of those phrases are steeped in Classification. I cringe again when I hear that people who make a truthful and honest statement, “All lives matter,” get heckled and shouted down upon and accused of not understanding what’s really happening, or get a beat down because they aren’t falling in the correct classification that others think is the correct one.

Let’s see now… We are human beings… We all have red blood beating in our hearts, and we all feel pain when a hurtful words or fists fall upon us.

Oh yes! I remember now! We is in essence the same as all! Thus the saying, “We All.”

Perhaps this all comes down to the tact and perception of the words we choose to use in our lives. Maybe it’s all about how we define the meanings of those words. But the truth is. We really are all on the same planet and if there is going to be any one action that is judged more negatively than others, it should fall upon any and all of those who can’t fathom what “All” really is.

The Fall of Roosteration

Does society need it’s roosters? Or are a coupe full of hens enough to get on by? These are important questions in our modern times. We must look deep into the meat of the matter and make sure that the result is at least a few ruffled feathers.

Roosters, in my humble oppinion have lost their luster. While once they were in high demand to keep the peace, keep away the boogey man and peck’n’scratch at the denser pieces of earth, it seems that the need or want to even have them around is lost.

The hens are quite capable at tending the coupe. They keep the weeds down, can flock in great numbers, offer penty of idle eggs to keep the addled minds and hungry stomachs full of something to crack about. After all, who’d want to interfere with a whole gaggle of feathered folk when they are on a role about some trendy topic? Not I. I’d rather keep a safe distance.

So the rooster is left with little choice but fall by the wayside of legends and lore. Even the great Foghorn has seen he’s hayday fall to such utterly nonsensical characters of the cartoon network and other stations targeting the lower masses of slower moving intellect.

Yet, what is to become of the rooster? Will it be eaten off like the female praying mantis takes care of it’s mate? Will we see a new type of zoo or amusement park that specilizes on the historical activities of the rooster of days gone to dusk? Or perhaps the roosters of this society have a plan? Perhaps a re-invention is in the works and we haven’t seen the last of their loud morning calls and strutting ego-sophistacted movements?

No matter what ends up happening, the hens seem to have made reality quite clear. They only desire roosters in the roost at their own beck and call.

So here’s to the Rooster, that legacy in us all, of a better time.

Clowntopia or Unfair Subjugation?

Why clowns? Why now? Why ever? While I know that there have always been people that have had huge issues with the painted faces and large red noses and perpetually grinning lips. I for one, have never undertood what generates the fear? In anycase, clowns are here and here to stay and pop up in strange places it seems.

I see articles on clown sightings, menacing clowns, clowns just looking at you and clowns that get beat down. Not to mention some stories about down right mean clowns that try to abduct little children. So, I was wondering, why clowns. What exactly is happening with our society that clowns need to come out and start making these vast assortments of visitations?

While I don’t suppose I’ll ever find out the answer, this whole clowning around stuff has brought up a powerful thought. Why should people be judging clowns? I mean, we get all upset at people being negative towards people of color, or with religios differences, or alternate gender identities. So why should clowns get any different treatment?

Perhaps the clowns have simply had enough of being third rate citizens? Maybe they, like the organizations of “Black Lives Matter,” and “He for She,” have finally come together and decided to let the country know about their plight.

In any case, I don’t think people should be just randomly assulting clowns or shouting at them. Now, if a clown is infact break the law, then by all means, we must use the necessary course to bring them to justice. But to have clown be smashed down, just because they decided to smile on any given day… Well that’s just wrong.

Oh… It’ll feel good! Try it!

Over the years I’ve gone up and down the weight scale. Never really being to extreme on either side of the scales, yet never really being where I wanted to be either. Over those same years, i’ve been told to try this or that, do this reutine, or that type of activity, ultimately none of which ever seems to work, nor give me any type of good feels. In fact exercise in general doesn’t give me good feels.

People have always gone on about how good a person feels after they’ve had a good run, or gone to the gym for an hour, or even just went out for a brisk walk for a mile or two. I’m sorry… But I don’t get those feel good endorphines off of exercise. I never have. In fact it’s kind of the opposite. I get frustrated. I get annoyed. I get angry and snappy. Even if the results of exercising are quantifiable and just and good outcomes come from it. I still get mad at exercise.

While I see the point of getting up and trying to be as healthy as one can be in their choosen career lifestyle and what not. I don’t see the point in people continuing to push this whole… It feels good mentality upon others about exercise. It’s very similar to having to tell the church door knocking folk to get the hell off the property, just dang annoying.

While, I’m sure there are people out there that live and breath exercise as being this amazing activity that leaves them feeling wonderful. And I know there are, because I know some of them. I can honestly say… that whole feel good crap just doesn’t fly.

It all makes me wonder if other people get frustrated by it as well. Are there any other folk who just don’t see the up emotions that those active folk are talking about?

You stare, I glare…It’s Natural!

Why am I glaring at you?

I’ve been asked that thousands of times over the course of my teenage and adult life. The answer is the same in 99 percent of the cases. I’m glaring, because you’re staring.

I keep wanting to shout out…”Hey! If i’m so damn interesting, why don’t you come up and chat with me?”

That’s what I’d like to say anyway, but usually I’m too shy to do anything and just glare back at the person because I feel super uncomfortable.

It makes me wonder if other people feel the same way? Or react the same way. Could it be that someone’s staring is infact glaring. Do they for some reason believe that my glare was infact a stare? Oh my, that could turn into a never ending circle of who stared and who glared first.

When I actually take time to muse upon it, I wonder just why we as a human species are driven to watch other people. It goes on all the time, in the malls, at the park, on college campuses. All the time, countless people just watching eachother. It might be a glance or a quick up down, or left right of the eyes. Sometimes it’s a fixation of the gaze until a phone rings or the mind gets destracted with something else. In anycase, it happens.

It makes me wan’t ask people, what they are looking for when they people watch? Do they have a clear agenda, or is the gazing simply a result of the mind or eyes not having anything better to do and watching people becomes the standard, “Nothing else to do, so let’s look at people.”

This turns back in on itself though. Because now with all these people watching everyone else all the time… I wonder… who’s glaring, who’s staring, and who’s just mindlessly sleeping with their eyes open?