The Allurium tag:www.theallurium.com,2004-09-15://4 2010-03-10T23:23:58Z The Website of John W. Randal Movable Type Pro 4.23-en Time, to Eat tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.888 2010-03-10T23:05:17Z 2010-03-10T23:23:58Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ Idly wondering why I was feeling so hungry, I realized that all I'd eaten today was a bowl of Cheerios.  About seven hours ago.  Brilliant.  I've kinda been doing that a lot lately; don't really know why.  Is this "pining"?  It's the first I've considered that.  I have always associated pining with some sort of Victorian silliness, not as something real.  Maybe it is.  How interesting.  ]]> days go by tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.887 2010-03-10T03:54:23Z 2010-03-10T04:32:56Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ The last few days have been hard.  As the sunlight has brightened, I've appreciated the near-Spring visuals -- even as I found myself missing...everything...so much more.  An odd combination.  I've gone a bit machine-like: work, eat, sleep -- repeat.  Just walking through the hours.  I never thought I'd lose so much, so quickly.  There were things I never thought I'd lose at all.  It still shocks me.  Still hurts.  The things I wish for now are almost embarrassingly sappy.  I want to be happy, but I'm not sure how that song goes anymore.  I'm mostly just exhausted and cold now, even as the days grow warmer.]]> 2.0 tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.886 2010-03-06T03:28:37Z 2010-03-06T03:35:17Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ Changed the way I look.
In the hopes that.
It will change the way I
feel.

Feeling different.
But -- the same.

Lost.  (But still right here.)

I've always, only, ever been

me.

]]> Empty tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.885 2010-03-05T07:43:51Z 2010-03-05T07:47:03Z I don't know what to do.No gas left in the tank.... John http://www.theallurium.com/ I don't know what to do.

No gas left in the tank.

]]> Never Land tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.884 2010-03-02T04:11:38Z 2010-03-02T04:18:39Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ Though never all that raucous, my life has lately become very quiet.  More silent still, as the moments evaporate.  I miss believing in happily ever after.  I miss talking.  I miss my Mom.  ]]> Broken tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.883 2010-02-27T02:44:55Z 2010-02-27T03:54:16Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ One of my Corona flip-flops broke.

We are primed for pattern recognition.  We see shapes and meanings in everything.  Guess it had an evolutionary advantage at some point.  We are always creating symbols.  Our brains are hardwired for language.  Our eyes are made to notice faces.  Forever seeing the Man in the Moon.

I wonder, sometimes, if almost everything that we experience is a story that we make up and tell ourselves.  It's like we can't stop trying to find meaning in things.  Toss a seven three times and you are on a roll.  Be born at a certain point, on a calendar that you have chosen to believe in, and you are a Sagittarius.  Make a wish on a falling star and...

Maybe all the stories soothe the fear that nothing means anything.  

I lost one of the soles of my flip-flops last Summer.  It peeled away and fell off.  I've still been wearing them, though.  One is thinner than the other.  Kind of tough on the feet.  The strap on the right one broke a few moments ago.  I don't know if I can wear them anymore, now.  I mean, maybe I could duct tape it or something, but...

Maybe all those stories reveal the fact that everything means...everything.

I sometimes feel that life is saturated with meaning.  Every breeze, each drop of rain.  The song on the radio.  A random movie.  The falling white erasing everything, again, outside.  Maybe we recognize patterns because patters are all around us.  Inside us.  Are us.

Yesterday, on a whim, I bought a song from iTunes that I once heard playing at work.  On the early morning shift that ended my deepest relationship so far.  The song is playing, now.  Tonight, I watched a movie that Netflix recommended to me.  It was, at its core, about love and the hell of loss.  As I was walking to this desk, in my bedroom, my Corona flip-flop broke.

It's broken.

I don't know what is true.  Whether nothing has meaning and that we are just whistling in the graveyard to calm our fears -- or that meaning is woven into the very fabric of our being.  What I do know is this:


The movie was, Lo.

And that Amy bought me the Corona flip-fops.

]]> Lonely Times tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.882 2010-02-25T01:37:52Z 2010-02-25T02:28:06Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ I don't listen to James Taylor all that often but, for some reason, his song, "Fire and Rain" has been drifting around in my mind since I got home from work.  It's kind of making me sad.  Or sadder, I guess.

Gabby the cat is sitting next to me in the dining room, nagging for some of my supper.  I don't think she realizes that I'm having lentil soup.  I doubt that entrée is very high on the feline "must have" list.  (Shows you what I know; she seemed to like the sample I gave her.  Who knew?)

One thing about Winter: the water from the tap is sweet and icy-cold.  Time for a third glass.  I think I get a little dehydrated sometimes, at work.

I'm tired.

Dinner is done.  Still have James in my head, singing that melancholy tune.  Guess I could sleep now, but I'm going to stay up for a little bit more.  No real reason.


 
]]> fallen tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.881 2010-02-20T06:53:06Z 2010-02-22T04:08:06Z I am empty now.... John http://www.theallurium.com/ I am empty now.

]]>
I have to change.


]]> Unraveling Tuesday tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.880 2010-02-17T03:01:05Z 2010-02-17T03:39:25Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ Thinner, and in black, I am sitting here listening to old music.  My eyes are tired.  The house is silent.  Snowy dust is swirling around outside in the dark.  The beer is barely touching me. 

This day started with a pretty but sad dream, filled with obvious symbolism that I did not catch until later.  Tuesday unraveled from there.  Moments, blurring out like ink in water.  Surreal -- then gone.  Coming home, after work, I parked in the white driveway.  Shutting off the engine made everything deeply quiet.  For a time, I watched the snow fall and melt into silver on my windshield.

And here.  Now.

Just typing.  I don't know what I'm doing.  Guess I'll do it again tomorrow.

]]> Happy Birthday, Dad tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.878 2010-02-14T05:00:01Z 2010-02-15T05:12:27Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ To Life, Love, Happiness & Health -- and to better days ahead.
Happy Birthday, Dad.  I'm proud to be your son.
Love,
John

]]> ---

And Happy Valentine's Day, to Everyone.
Venus Significat Humanitatem...



]]> Off is Away tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.879 2010-02-14T03:03:02Z 2010-02-14T03:12:45Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ There are many things that I should do.  From the complex (change my life) to the mundane (make my bed).  But I am beat, in several definitions of the word.  So I am going to pull my rumpled covers up over me, enough to stay warm, and just shut myself off for the night.  Of late, this has become the best part of my day...]]> Like a Flower is a Color tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.877 2010-02-13T03:48:26Z 2010-02-13T04:03:20Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ It was a sweet night...but I'm roughed up around the edges.  My voice has dropped into velvet.  My eyes are tired, and are skipping details.  I feel like an artifact.  Even now, after all this time, I can't believe it.  I'm a wreck.  All this time.  I am lonely like a flower is a color.  I miss you like breathing.  Sleep?  Sleep, is a blessing.]]> The Day, In Night tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.876 2010-02-12T20:23:43Z 2010-02-12T20:29:51Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ Friday, and I'm looking forward to having a sandwich with Joel and my dad tonight, down at Alexion's.  I'm tired.  The afternoon is pale.  My shoulders are sore.  A nap may smooth things out.  Start a new day, in the night.]]> Eventual Flowers tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.875 2010-02-08T03:25:33Z 2010-02-08T16:47:25Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ People they come together
People they fall apart
- Moby, We Are All Made of Stars

I miss her.  I know it doesn't matter.  Maybe it does matter.  Maybe everything does.  Or nothing does.  Just tired, and buzzed.  No weight or shadow to that either.  Like all of the white, out there: it will melt away and be gone, to memory only.

There will be flowers here, eventually.

]]>
I guess forever chooses you, not the other way around. That's a hard lesson.


]]> white wall tag:www.theallurium.com,2010://4.874 2010-02-07T04:21:34Z 2010-02-07T04:28:18Z John http://www.theallurium.com/ Great walls of white, frosted trees, deserted streets.  In the night, all is still.  My body is sore.  Everything is quiet.  I'm having a beer in the dining room, wishing I had someone to talk to.]]>