Life(less) Magic

Where does the magic go when it leaves?

I get these glimpses, a stir, almost like a tunnel-shake in my peripheral vision and I can almost feel.

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to have no walls, no borders or boundaries. It’s a completely alien concept to me.

I’ve had walls since before I could form coherent sentences.

Some lives are more broken than others, but only on the inside, only where nobody will see the me I see when I see me. All of you get a facsimile, I learned to hide before I learned anything else, it’s my Dexter Morgan moments that you’ll never get to see.

There’s this image in my mind, a chalkboard and the words “hope is a four letter word” scrawled with haste, as if written during an escape attempt.

That’s your whisper in the dark, the half-glimpsed form, the cold wind tickling the back of your neck – like a kiss of death.

Faceless and formless, just a vast darkness that claims anything it touches.

Somewhere in there is a boy silently screaming, soundless tears burning clean furrows down dirty cheeks. Fists balled, white-knuckled with impotent rage.

Nobody hears the quiet ones, the ones who scream inside, who create a version of acceptable to show the world; mine feels two-dimensional.

As if I could step out from behind it and you’d all see it was really made out of cardboard the whole time.

Real life doesn’t work like that. Not when your subconscious mind built a fortress before you even knew what one was and then crammed you into it to keep those terrifyingly real things that happen to people from ever being able to touch you again…it leaves a sort of trail, a psychic slash in the mind, like a neon-lit river in the darkness, one that fills brimful of all the normal emotions that should be flowing in and are instead channeled out and away: sometimes you get splashed but you’re dry before you fully realize it.

That’s what it feels like today.

Eh, meh, heh.

I wrote a really long post.

I deleted all of it.

All you get is the vague hint that I wrote something I didn’t want to share.

Something that I never wanted to be able to revise or revisit.

Odd feeling that.


I have, at this very moment, many drafts.

I have so many unfinished thoughts.

I could swipe my right index finger from right to left – like a manga comic – and they and all they contain will be gone as though they’d never been.

Sometimes I think life is a lot like that.

Swipe, swipe, swipe…

Can’t Quite

I am sometimes confusing. Confused and/or confusion.

I wonder what goes unsaid. I wonder what is between the lines I read and why those words aren’t in bold.

I wonder often of late at my complete inability to concentrate.

I am in a place, a place I don’t want to be, surrounded by people I do not particularly care for and some of whom I fervently wish I’d never met.

I think that the world is sometimes very dark.

I sometimes hear a sentence in my mind, a line from a book I once loved:

“…holding their swords with the ease of trained warriors and the sorrow of awakened dreamers…”

I identified with that line long before I was a trained warrior – I’ve always held the sorrow of an awakened dreamer just beneath the surface, where it is invisible to onlookers.

I prefer it so, I know not (now) why.

I am sometimes unquantifiable; I cross lines, blur boundaries, I am an odd amalgamate of often mutually exclusive qualities – I am the exception to many rules.

I don’t quite know what to make of that.

A[n](other) Disjointed (Pr)Offering

I just realized that I went about three months without posting anything – only posting when I was able to start running again.

Apparently the amount of free time I have had has declined drastically, because there is hardly ever (read: never) a time when I don’t have something to say – even if I’m just commenting on my lack of something to say.

I’m not quite certain that qualifies as a paradox but for the purposes of this post let us suspend the rules, or perhaps merely bend them a bit.

I’m actually not certain where I was originally going with this post so I’ll be back later to finish it.

Back about 2 days later: some combination of earth rotations and movement on its orbit of Sol, and you’ve been deceived readers – I still have nothing much of interest.

Running, that’s interesting, I level design in my head sometimes when I run, it’s math mostly so I can do two things at once (and enjoy it) that most people hate to do period, and while we’re on that I’ll paraphrase Dawkins, I’m not super into polarizing figures but I like this one: why is it so shameful to admit to a lack in literacy but perfectly acceptable to admit to deficiencies in science and a compete inability to handle mathematics of any level above basic arithmetic?

I’m just saying, if someone tells me that matrix theory makes no sense or that they can’t wrap their mind around string theory or super-symmetries that’s one thing but I’ve run into a startling (and disheartening) number of people who don’t even know what the order of operations in (very) basic algebra is.

Algebra. That was sixth grade. Seriously I always loved to solve for y – if you know me or read this blog then you know why I like Y.

Be back again to finish this later-ish.

Annnnnnnd another eight or nine days later: it’s the playoffs, my beard is actually coming in quite nicely (for me anyway) and one of my teams has advanced to the second round. Once again, if you know anything about me (chances are, if you’re reading this you’ve stumbled here because of my categories and/or post tags) then you know that I love hockey. Playoff hockey in particular. It’s the best month of the year and not just because I don’t have to shave.

Aren’t artists and intellectuals and pseudo-intellectuals (read, hipsters) supposed to have beards? I feel like I’ve read that somewhere.

This post has been completely disjointed. Broken up into its constituent atoms it retains only the barest semblance of coherence.

I rather enjoy that. It’s my blog I don’t have to make sense if I don’t want to, now do I?

I thought not.

Right this moment there are more people on the planet running than were living a thousand years ago.

There’s a website called reddit – you may have heard of it.

At any rate I read a comment about running that resonates and I thought I’d share it:

This is sort of how I started running too. When my life was falling apart and I thought nothing else could go right I started going to the gym to force myself into something social everday. Just to interact with people. Just to do SOMETHING.
And then I started running. And then it started being about me. And that feeling. And the act. And how free it was. How independent. How strong. How I didn’t have to hold back anything like I did with the rest of the world. On the treadmill, on the trails, on the track, in my running shoes I was allowed to be raw anger and pain and frustration and loneliness and strength, too, because fuck the world that doesn’t think it takes strength to be alone.
Fast forward six months – my first 5k. Six more – half marathon. A year – marathon. I’m still the only one I know who’s done it. I’m about to start training for the triathlon. And yeah, I like my body a lot better now, not so much because of the way it looks but because it is a powerful, independent, free extension of the strength I carry and I can show that any time.
So you, more power to you. Run. Run for as long as it makes you happy. There’s nothing like that first ten miler that you take in the middle of the night without your phone or telling anyone where you went and you think it’s never going to end and when you finally finish your legs are fucked for the next three days, but fuckitall if it wasn’t worth it.
Running’s like that. Welcome to the family.

Actual post on reddit with comment.

A little off-topic but ever in my heart and thoughts – to my best friend holding down that bar, keeping my seat open: I’ll see you again someday buddy, but not yet.
David R. Greenslade
Kandahar City, Afghanistan

Running from/with injury.

“The modern world is not necessarily a runner’s world. Many other physical variables affect our ability to stay healthy. We detrain our glutes and tighten our hamstrings sitting at our desks for hours, grow tight in the shoulders from stress and eat genetically modified foods with consequences we don’t yet fully understand. The variables are as different as the circumstances of our lives, with one thing in common: They all hamper the body’s ability to deal with the forces of running.”

-Philip Latter, April 2013 Issue Running Times

That pretty much sums it up, I have no problem quoting when someone else can say what I’m trying to say more eloquently than I can.