Archive for August, 2011


Tomorrow, I begin again.

High hopes, hopefully not unfounded.

I have asked, and I hope I shall receive.

Typically vague, I know, I’ll explain later.


Nemo dat quod non habet.

Es bedeutet: Niemand gibt, was er nicht hat. Ou en français si vous préférez: personne ne donne ce qu’il n’a pas.

“No one gives what he doesn’t have.”



Searching, seeking, wander-wondering, wishing.

I am a seeker. I search for answers, for understanding. I wonder about everything, I always have.

It’s one of the major driving forces in my life. I need to understand everything and everyone around me.

The eclectic mixture that made up my undergrad curriculum shows a pattern, like a gridded-off search area, the quest for answers is written in bold on my transcripts.

The machinery of the universe is in the background, my quest has always been one of somehow quantifying the human experience.

Are we human beings having spiritual experiences or spirits having a human experience?

The answer is in the journey, but it’s question that drives me.



I wonder why I never realize how happy I was at a particular time until I’m looking back.


L. O. V. E. Is just another word I never learned to pronounce.

Properly, as it were. Or maybe I just don’t know what it really means. I suppose, looking back, that those who have tried to show me seem rather under-qualified and overly-confident in their abilities (considering the poor quality of the collective resume).

And yet I’m still smiling, apparently my shine is un-tarnishable…and confidence is a stain they can’t wipe off.

In other news I’m going for a run, 2012 marathon trifecta training starts…now.

I have begun to streamline- I am a machine of graceful lines and hard edges, aerodynamic in a rough fashion; as I excise the aforementioned excess my edges begin to become smooth once more.

It is truly a glorious day to be alive.


My creativity comes and goes these days, flickering in and out like a dying lightbulb; buzzing frantically as it struggles to stay lit.

I’m finding ideas hard to find, inspiration now here, now there; no(w)here.

At least I can still be clever about writers block.

Well, not really block, more like writer’s caution tape, I think. I just need the motivation to jump over and see what’s waiting…

Waiting, what am I waiting for?

The machinery of the night

I gaze into the night sky and the stars pull me into the heavens, running ever upward on paths of coherent light.

Nights like these, when the ancient mysteries feel so close to the surface; almost magical and so full of promise.

Inside, I find hope restored and faith renewed. I find that there are no memories of you, or you, or you…

A field of unbroken snow, gleaming, casting starlight back at the sky in my mind.

I’ve heard it said that life’s joys are measured in moments, truly, moments like those are worth all those that try one’s soul.

Every broken heart is made new in time, finding strength in the weakness that recedes after each piece is re-placed.

Stitches and staples, bandaids and tape, each tracing a path taken, pain taken; a patchwork of wisdom won the hard way.

I treasure the wounds as much as the smiles and laughter. Each and every one has made me a stronger, and I hope, a better human.


Good enough will never be good enough.


The space that I most like to inhabit, that place between sleep and awake; where dreams and reality merge, has become a place stranger than fiction.

(yes that was a bad religion reference-great band, way underrated)

I wonder. I like that statement, it stands alone well, albeit vaguely.

I also like that the top edge of my wordpress app says ‘write’ no punctuation but still a command. A need, as if it understands what drives me.

Dreams have been so oddly surreal lately. No rhyme or reason, so incoherent; place to place, face to face. No pattern, or perhaps one so complex it escapes me.

It forces me analyze it in ways I don’t usually consider.

Carry no torches and you cannot be burned.

Oh how I enjoy being vague.


I need to streamline my life. Excise the excess; truly cut loose that which is slowing me down.

I’ve thought about it before, I’ve ruminated thoroughly on the issues that I believe are detrimental; emotionally, physically, spiritually.

When you were standing in the wake of devastation
when you were waiting on the edge of the unknown
with the cataclysm raining down, insides crying save me now
you were there impossibly alone.

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation
you build up hope but failiures all you’ve known
remember all the sadness and frustration
and let it go, let it go.

Chester can write, that’s for sure.


And I’ve figured it out, somewhat anyway.

I’m an adrenaline junkie. I need intensity. In all aspects of my life. If there is no envelope to be pushed, I’ll create one; I’ve seen me do it.

Coasting is not an option. I crave challenges, obstacles to overcome.

“There is no easy way out…”

I don’t want out, I want it to always mean something, I want it to be amazing. Always.

I find that mundanity is my eternal enemy. It waits, complacency it’s ally, for me to become comfortable and then it springs and I realize that I am utterly, irrevocably bored. That is when life gets horribly average.

I hate average.

What I want, what I need, is something that I will never become bored with, that will always be the perfect mixture of dangerous and safe.

I also want all of the answers to every eternal quandary that has ever plagued humanity.

Ahhhhhh, impossible desire you are a cruel mistress.

Always she leaves me wanting.

Sub Rosa

I am, at this exact moment, listening to Cold’s first album again, it places me firmly in Miami, Flo(o)rida, a while, a decently long while, ago.

“Well I saw the river flow from heaven, rain mistakes on me.”

I saw them when they opened for Jimmy’s Chicken Shack. Yep. It was at a bar in Hollywood, and they drank with us after their set, pretty cool dudes, all of them.

I find myself going on strange journeys, inside, further than forever.

I can’t seem to escape my mind lately. I find too many decisions, lurking ’round every corner. Waiting like stalkers, springing out with a surprised sort of malice to disturb my equilibrium.

I generally thrive under pressure, I find that I excel when it matters. When it matters. I want it to always matter, sometimes though the futility of some situations wrecks my sense of purpose and place.

I firmly believe that anyone can do or be anything if they want it enough. I know what I want. I know how to do it, I can think in three-dimensions; strategically. And yet I find that my motivation is drastically reduced. It makes me question, to stop and ponder, smelling roses and becoming lost as my thumb hovers over the start button.

The last few months have been odd, and oddly revealing. I dream strange dreams; people and places I’ve never known in waking life. I think strange thoughts, previously held in reserve; the sole domain of my subconscious.

It overflows, dams burst, clouds fly apart and rays of starlight illuminate paths I’d not known existed.

A sovereign-specific for a wounded mind. I wonder in those moments where these thoughts come from. They seem almost introduced; not-quite-mine as they flutter at the edge of my awareness.

I don’t know if I’m going to post this.