The Allurium: November 2009 Archives

Beautiful Lie

By John on November 30, 2009 10:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

A pile of time, like a world of flowers. All those beautiful moments. They tremble and pull, with nectar and perfume -- whispering, "Drink Me."

And you do.

Deep in the colors and the silken majesty of moments, you swirl. Forget. Like a lotus eater: drunk on it.

But the sand runs through, and the petals fall. It breaks the heart.

Forever is a dream.

Monday Gray

By John on November 30, 2009 2:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Nigel and the cats were there when I came home. All else quiet. The message indicator blinking on the phone; an obsolete telemarketing call, cut-off half way. Still carrying my dream, I made some lunch. Through the windows the skies were low, pushing down cold air. Everything has a deeper chill, now. I'm having a hard time getting warm.

Star

By John on November 29, 2009 5:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I've heard that candles in the window can represent thoughts, and/or a welcoming light for loved ones who are away. This year has been bleak and, with Christmas coming, there is a real temptation to skip the decorating. Like the candle idea, however, I thought that having a star up on our chimney again could bring some brightness and, maybe, act as a small welcoming light/reminder for my Mom. My Dad and I have decided to do some other decorating, too. And we are going to put up a tree. I pretty much wasted my Sunday off but, near the end of it, kept having that idea about the star.

So I climbed up onto the roof and hung it there. After I was done, I sat for a moment, watching the sunset. The only sound was the wind. Everything else was quiet and open.

blind / sight

By John on November 28, 2009 7:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant---

by Emily Dickinson

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant---
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightening to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind---

Twenty-Fourth

By John on November 24, 2009 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It is my parent's anniversary. They would have been married for 47 years, today. It has been just over three weeks since my Mom died. Oddly enough, today is also the day that my Grandmother died, one year ago. I'm going to get my Dad and me some pizza from his favorite place. We're going to have a few beers, maybe watch a movie. Everything seems empty and quiet.

Cold Product

By John on November 20, 2009 7:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Friday night and it's dark out there -- and quiet in here. Not a lot of traffic on the Parkway. Most of the people must already be in the city for light up night. Finishing a glass of wine before I go to bed. My shoulders are sore. This year has been full of bad things I thought would never happen. Perhaps I've always been too optimistic -- but I liked being that way. Guess I'm getting educated, now. I miss going out. I miss a lot of things. A lot of people. My bed looks like someone took a blender to it. Think I'll make it. Then use it.

Automatic

By John on November 19, 2009 3:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

There is very little reason or meaning in anything I do anymore.

Bright Wednesday

By John on November 18, 2009 7:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Awoke. It was bright. Sat on the edge of the rumpled futon for a moment. Told myself I was fucked up. Laughed. Got up. Said "Hi" to Nigel and to the kitties as I made my way to the kitchen. Everything else was quiet. The coffee machine worked. Guess that's a good enough start to things.

Just before waking, I had a thin dream where someone asked me how I was and I wrote back, "I've never been worse. Or. I'm fine. Pick one. (It doesn't matter either way, but thanks for asking!)". First goal of the day: not to actually write that to anybody, should the possibility arise.

Had an egg sandwich and a couple of cups of coffee for breakfast.

My throat is scratchy and I have a bit of a cough. Still kind of tired. Washed my face and the heat of the water felt good, radiant. I need a shave. Got a Chevelle song cycling through my head (and on iTunes, now). Time for something constructive...

Replaced the faucet on the kitchen sink and did some laundry. Feeling grimy. It's dark as dreams out there, now. I'm vaguely hungry.

-- Time passes, as it always does. --

Showered, shaved and fed, I'm winding down with wine. Already in my pajamas. Another early start, tomorrow. I don't know why. Doesn't matter much anyway. I feel like I accomplished some stuff, today. But I don't feel like I'm really here. Ah well. It will feel nice to lay down to sleep.

Hey, "perchance to dream" and all that.

'Nite.

"Burning Out Inside"

By John on November 16, 2009 10:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

"And that's why

I'm burning out inside

The need to know oneself

Well I'm burning out inside

The need to know

Does anybody really see anything

Does anybody really see anyone"

-- Chevelle, Roswell's Spell

Love & Life

By John on November 15, 2009 2:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

"They will tear your mind away from contemplation"

-- Bob Dylan, Ain't Talkin'

They say that time seems to move slower when you pay greater attention to things. That greater focus allows you to lay down more, and more detailed, memories. When you think back on those events, it seems like everything was in slow motion; how else could you have noticed so much? Conversely, the less attention you pay to things, the quicker time seems to go.

I worry that things seem to pass so rapidly now. And each year, faster.

Perhaps, when we are deeply focused, thinking, reflecting, and actively exploring our experiences, we are manifesting a soul. When we just skim across the surface, we may be reducing ourselves to automata.

I know that our brains are wired to notice novelty -- and to pay less attention to the common. (The whole, "one of these things is not like the other" focus was probably a very useful survival trait in the past.) But it is troubling that we learn, as we age, to ignore so much. In the past, the world had more depth, moments had greater weight and were laden with meaning and myth. Of course it isn't the world that has changed -- it is me. Sometimes it feels like my soul was a wild and giant animal then; rich and textured. And now...now it has become a clock, ticking off the seconds. There are moments, at this point, when the world seems so light and superficial that it barely seems to be there at all. I barely seem to be there at all.

I have a small (and slowly growing) group of phrases that I have collected; facets of an evolving personal motto, I suppose. One of them is: Homo ex Machina. A play on Deus ex machina (or "God from the machine") this is, "man from the machine". I first saw it as the name of a sculpture in the movie, "Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence". To me, it means that our humanity evolves from the mechanistic foundations of our biology. Deus ex machina, descends. Homo ex machina, rises.

I worry, though, that time and repetition teaches us to lighten our focus and drift back toward the machine, and to the swift flickering of seconds -- our souls fading like old photographs. I worry that our biology gives us the chance to be human, but the inclination not to.

Another phrase that has meaning for me is: Venus Significat Humanitatem or, "It is love which makes us human."

I think that humanity might be something we can do, not necessarily something that we are -- and that the thing that pushes us highest up the slope of humanity, is love.

My Mom and Dad knew each other for 60 years, were married for 47. Every day of my life they taught me about love, by example. They showed me what it is to be human, how to truly love another person -- how to rise above the machinery.

Like the illusionary passing of time, their example has flickered by. I did not pay enough attention to it when it was right before me. I did not focus on it. Only now, when my mother is gone, am I considering what her and my father have been showing me, every day, for the last 45 years.

That love does not walk away. That it sacrifices, endures...grows. Love focuses, and evolves meaning from the momentary. Love is the deeper thing in us, and in the world.

It is so easy to let time accelerate. To ignore the work that makes us human. Easy to forget our souls.

I am sorry I did not pay enough attention, Mom and Dad. I will try to do better. I will try not to be a clockwork thing. I love you both.

Thank you for showing me how.

Goodbye, Mom

By John on November 8, 2009 8:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

You taught me how to read -- and everything else that matters.

I will never forget you.

Love,

--- John

My Mom's Obituary

In Which I Realize

By John on November 5, 2009 10:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

She doesn't love me anymore. And probably hasn't for quite some time.

Shit.

I won't speak of this, any of it, directly again.

Happy Birthday, Joel!

By John on November 1, 2009 12:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Thank you for being such a great brother, Joel -- I hope that you have a wonderful birthday and a healthy, happy and joyous year ahead. Happy Birthday, and here's to many more!

Love, John

November 2009 Archives