Archive for the ‘ Observations ’ Category

Unwritten scenes, written.

I just had one of those “scene-from-a-movie” moments.

So I’m at work, right now as I write this. I literally just sprinted about five-hundred or so yards to my car to roll up my windows.

After I rolled them up I’m walking across the parking lot, there’s an odd hum in the air, it’s hot but the humidity is way down and it’s light outside, a weird sort of not-quite twilight that sprays the sky with navy blues and violets and magentas. A huge, and I really mean huge like as wide as my house huge, lightning bolt splashes down and the sky just opened up, like god turned on the faucet.

It was absolutely fucking glorious.


It’s one a.m. I should be asleep, I have a wicked long day tomorrow, but instead I’m sitting by the pool with a rolling rock.

Life decisions are flying at me at the speed of light, I feel gravity trying to pull me back, to hold my feet firmly on the ground. I wonder if there is a happy medium, or if that too is something they tell you at school, something uttered as if average is somehow something you should actually aim for.

I am quintessentially something of a paradox. I dream big, I find hard things easy and yet I still fail and when I do it is usually epic in scope and always tragic (for me at least).

I have so many decisions to make and so fast it seems. I wonder if they’ll be the right ones or if it even matters as long as I jump off of this fence.

Can I just say, maybe quietly to myself, that being a genius is a friggin curse. I do like being smarter than most people but I hate the fact that I second, third, fourth and fifth guess myself on the daily.

K, whiny rant about being smart over.

Side note: I bought which is now where my wordpress blog resides, the wordpress address will auto-redirect so it’s all good and I chose .org because it’s the first three letters of orgasm and I’m a guy.

I may be a geek, but I’m also a jock and I do have my ridiculously immature moments.

Man, I have to say, despite all the craziness in my life I really do love being me 🙂

Rudyard’s Yard

“Don’t talk of worlds that never were, the end is all that’s ever true. There’s nothing you can ever say, nothing you can ever do.”
– the cure

It’s been an odd few weeks. I find myself pulled south, far south to the gulf. I wonder if it is just my natural wanderlust kicking in or if there is something more waiting on the coast. I miss the saline tears of ocean spray on my face, surely, as much as I miss believing in a dream.

I often think that perhaps I think more than is good for me. But for some reason I cannot quite grasp I find my thoughts constantly turning toward the sun and sand of Louisiana. The swamp and the river compete for my attention in my dreams. I remember the smell of the jungles of my boyhood and often wake with a slight upturn to my lips, a curving smile that actually reaches my eyes.

The jungle has a smell/sound that will forever be imprinted in my mind, whenever it rains in the summer I am suddenly in central-american rainforest, wondering-wandering through my earliest years.

Omnia Causa Fiunt.



Someday is a dangerous word. Dangerous because it’s really just code for never.

I dislike never, dislike it because I cannot countenance the idea that I have any limitations.

I have been disabused of that notion many times throughout my lifetime. Sometimes violently, as in watching a dream terminate with extreme prejudice. Sometimes subtly, as in watching something you believed in, something you thought was so real, fade into the great oblivion that is broken hope and un-manifested destiny.

Sometimes I think that someday is just one of those childhood wishes that should never be wished, but today I simply believe that someday is a euphemism; a tale of never-was and never-will-be, but somehow so close you could have grasped it in your hand, and felt it slide through your fingers like sea water: the last memory a film of salt on your palm.


I am a catalyst. A brazen wish; something half-way made and not-entirely sane.

I rather enjoy this shell that I inhabit, and that “I” inside is a perfect fit. I wonder what other people believe about this life.

Not the empty things they mouth in class or at church, but what they really believe, deep down, those thoughts they never share; that’s where you find the real measure of someone. I’m always open to discussion, to theorizing; finding truths and guesses.

I think that it’s important to understand where we’ve come from, it may give us some clues as to where we’re going; as a species and as individuals.

I’ve heard so many ideas about the how and when and the where: my favorite question, since I was a little boy, has always been why? it’s my favorite, I believe, simply because it’s almost always pure theory and for me a person’s theories are the best way to understand them, and I study people (anthro geek baby!) because to me they’re the most interesting and dynamic thing going on…and because it gives me a better understanding of real cultures so I can create fake ones in my books.

That was an incredibly long sentence. My apologies about the structure. In any case, some people will never make sense to me. No matter how well you think you know a person there is always a little held back, a little corner that’s off limits. I believe it’s because we wouldn’t like what we’d find there.

Like the heart of darkness, up that river lies only pain and sadness. Unfortunately for me, “why” always lies up that river and I’m a strong swimmer.

Two plus two equals four. Agreed? Okay, now tell me why.


I’m not certain I know what I want to say today, I woke up oddly disconcerted.

I am, sadly I think, unable to process it as yet. Which is in itself odd for me, I can generally place the source of most things rather quickly.

On to other things, perhaps more important than my vague sense of unease today.

Life has been fairly busy lately, which hasn’t given me much time to think, or write, or let out most of what I want to get out of my mind.

I feel filmy and sort of unreal. It’s as though the reel is unraveling at both ends and I stand in the midst, meddling in the middle; trying desperately to stay whole and in motion.

it’s the middle of the meddle, and I’m not allowed to leave, you took the shine off of everything, now there’s nothing I believe.

I wrote that years ago, not knowing why the words came to me, oddly now they feel like prophecy.

This is why I am strange and have quite possibly lost the plot. Ah well, at least it’s never boring in here.

I think I’ll leave it at that.


I had often wondered how people could become so sad, until of course, I experienced some sadness myself.

I survived, I got my mind back and while my heart has a few stitches and dents in it, it’s still quite functional – just a bit more cautious and maybe a little wiser.

Life is for the living. Stay there if you can.

I think that everytime something or someone hurts you that you kind of die a little faster for a little while.

Sort of.

I think its a combination of the effects of stress and depression coupled with the idea that your mind can affect your body; like the placebo effect but in a harmful way.

Conversely, I also believe that if you can find a way to stay above the pain you can keep yourself in the land thereof for a while longer than you perhaps would have.

Just throwing this out there but:

I have some very odd theories on life, the universe and the purpose and meaning of both.

Someday I may even share some of them. Maybe.

I also wonder where the job title ‘sage’ went. Where did they go? I still hear about ‘sage advice’ but seriously, when was the last time you met a sage?

My point exactly. Ah well, maybe the world doesn’t need or want sages anymore. I always imagine them as opinionated people, ones that make nuisance of themselves until their most excellent advice is taken. Come to think of it, the world could use some sages.

There are many, many other things that I wonder about. My mind is a strange place, a place where quantum mechanics sit down to lunch with post-modern theory and discuss the finer points of deconstructionism, or maybe it was structuralism they were discussing…or was that at tea?

You get the point I trust. I am always interested in learning, in knowledge of any sort, be it applied or theoretical, fantastic or mundane. I love the new, the old, the ordinary and the extra-.

I love writing most of all, even when it only makes sense to me.

*This post was weirdly disjointed. I am both a fan of it and not quite sure if I like it simultaneously. I suppose one can never be sure of something written after waking up from odd dreams.


I’ve been thinking (dangerous, I know). I remember the kid I was, this egotistical, slightly off-kilter mess of a boy…he was a dreamer.

He had so many plans and ideas. Some things never change, some things, do.

I can remember when I started college, when all sorts of amazing information was literally being thrown at me. It was absolutely amazing.

There were so many possibilities, every horizon was wide-open and inviting with promises of adventure.

I was certain I was going to change the world. So very certain that my ideas would make things better; would make some sort of difference for the people on this ball of water and rock in space.

To an extent: I still am.

My parameters have changed somewhat, my dreams tempered by experience. It’s somewhat sad, to think that dreams must be broken and reforged to survive this world.

As one of my favorite authors says: “I didn’t make the world, I only try to live in it.”

I think about every piece of writing I’ve ever read, novels, textbooks, scientific journals…the list could literally take me days but I’m not trying to list everything I’ve read that will make me sound uber-smart and ultra-snarky.

What I’m getting at is that you will find meaning everywhere. There are novels I’ve read that literally had one sentence that gripped me, one sentence which connected me to the writer, soul to soul. And those fifteen or twenty words made reading the other seventy-five thousand or so absolutely worth every second it took to do so.

I’ve found absolutely elegantly constructed bits of pure inspired heart in the driest journal on computer science.

It’s about passion. If you are passionate about what you are writing it flows through, it makes you more eloquent, it gives you a fire that comes through your words. It creates something ethereal, almost magical and certainly something so surreal conceptually. It creates a bond between two people who have never met in the flesh. For a moment or two you are absolutely connected.

I mean how freaking cool is that?


Closure is such a funny word. Not it’s meanings, which are as varied as they are nigh-inapplicable to most earthly situations, but it’s spelling – the actual letters and sounds that make up it’s concept in our minds.

Go ahead, say it out loud, mouth it a few times, let it’s syllables roll around in your mind. Hell go get a pen and write it down; let that cee flow into an ell, into that oh and onward and tell me if you feel any better at the end of it.

Exactly my point.

Closure is a collection of unconnected consonants and vowels that mean nothing until they are connected in our minds as the abstract concept of an ending, of something being closed or fastened. But it’s never so neat and easy here in the desert of the real.

Closure is a mirage on the horizon, it wavers and beckons; just a few more steps and you’ll be here it seems to say, sibilantly enunciating it’s ess sound, the end of it so sure, sure as in I’m so sure you’ll feel so much better if you can just force yourself to trudge a few more miles through this barren wasteland.

Broken ridges and switchbacks sending you round and round, old memories assaulting you as the sun beats down in a rage you’re certain you cannot possibly survive, and all the while the mirage flutters in your peripheral vision.

I am sure there is no such thing as clo-sure. There is surely closing, as in doors slamming, footsteps receding rapidly as someone flees the scene of the crime. A closing from which most never fully recover.

Kind of sad isn’t it? I’ll let you in on a little secret about the social construct we inhabit: none of it is, by strict definition, real. It is all a collection of learned behaviors associated with abstractions.

So if you can wrap your head around the concept that nothing you take for granted exists in the real, you can make your own borders, your own boundaries, your own en-closure(s).

You can manufacture your own closure. You can, it’s fairly simple in theory but like everything else here on earth the easiest things are always so so hard.

So internalize it. Feel every single heartbeat of pain and then put it down and just walk away.

The heat-shimmering horizon stops wavering and you find an oasis, cold water flows over your face and you can see the sun rise again, only now it’s no longer torturing you with it’s blistering heat, because you can once again cast your own rays right back, belittling the stars with your radiance.

Stay amazing, do big things. Love like you’ve never been hurt because who knows when you’ll pass this way again.


“I used to be my own protection,
But not now.
Because my mind has lost direction,

-Chester from Linkin Park

Say what you will about the band, he is a talented writer. He understands the concept of concise emotional release instinctively. It’s a trait you can coach but not one I believe you can teach. I respect anyone that has the capacity to reach inside and pull out that inside for everyone else to gawk at.

Charming visual, I know. Rest assured I am grinning at the idea of making anyone green with that one. However what I am talking about is honesty, he doesn’t pull punches, he says exactly what he means and he says it in a way that reaches people and allows them to feel it too.

That’s the dream. Reaching out and pulling people in, letting them feel a little of your pain, feeling a little of theirs and thereby lessening everyone’s burden a bit. Who knows what could happen, who you can help or even save by taking on a little of them, and giving them a little of you in return.

I’d call it beautiful and slightly naive. But it doesn’t make me hope for it any less.

Stay true, stay real.