I have had a night. I guess that is all I wish to divulge at this time. I saw love and I saw actors walking a stage. These actors twirl and spin and peacock. I feel good—good and tired.
I am lost. Being lost is my state of mind, unfortunately. I have no ways of communicating with those that I desire. Can I be great? Can I conquer myself and what lies past it? Yes, but how?
How do I go about this herculean task. Do I laze and socialize? Or do I dive head first into myself?
A wet cemetery with decrepit headstones lays on a grassy field. The rain beats down on the dead place incessantly, making things muddy and fairly unapproachable. If one is looking closely, a rat can be seen, splashing about industriously as he traverses the cemetery. The rat is making his way home, which is under the patio of the Reives house on Park Drive, unbeknownst to them of course.
The rain is eroding the field along with the rest of the surrounding land. Winter is approaching the land defiantly and the earth is hardening in preparation to receive her.
The earth has been renovated. We’ve left the soil and old industry and built atop it. The Old Earth, with all of its secrets and disgust, has been covered by something New. New Earth. New Earth is massive and alien, a mechanized metropolis with mega buildings that do not end, they do not.
New Earth is safe and Holy. New Earth is without crime and fear. A silicon grind covers the earth full of Information. Hyper tech speedways without packet loss and delay provide us.
The air is pure and clean, New Earth has done away with such trivial climate issues.vkds skdvsjkv svodsivdsov sovis vsovsovso
In the fall it is bleak and restless looking. Come spring and things begin to shift and rustle in the soil; budding life and warming air like the world is waking up, because it is. Sparrows in flight and ground squirrels on patrol, ants in formation and deer who circumnavigate the land.
A reaper walks these fruitful lands and kills things. Many animals have seen Him, a shadowy figure that is a blur of disgust and a snarled, fat smile.
I live in the woods.
Rats live here too, industrious folk who know their way around the land better than any other animal. Keen sense of smell on those critters.
Spring is a spectacle
Everyone must take stock of their body. They pass the mirror and catch something. They turn to face the mirror and see themselves, they touch their faces and pull their skin, seeing what is well kept and what is not. Skin too coarse, hair too shaggy, lips too small.
One must take stock of their body, it is a sacred ritual.
There are many rituals that have lost their sacred touch, but not this, not this.
Green brush so dense you can’t pass through on foot. One must scale large, grand trees and travel one broad branch at a time, high above. Hundreds of feet up these beasts reach. They reach for light, or maybe for glory. You can live among them, it isn’t difficult. Millions of years ago things did live there, they lived and spawned many in the woods creating an empire of sorts.
Sometimes I feel like how I experience life has been dulled. Perhaps it happens naturally as one grows up. Maybe to most it is a more smooth “transition”. Perhaps we do not allow ourselves to feel and see like we used to because of fear. Fear comes with age.
I am not too worried, though. I think one can fix these problems easily by staying busy and doing something you love each day. I need to activate. I have laid mentally dormant for too long.
I forgot how it felt to talk to her. When the conversation ended and we said our goodbyes I was left feeling hopeless and woefully unsatisfied. I forgot how much it hurt me to know how far she is and that I will probably never lay in bed with her and kiss her; Someone far more interesting has taken that roll.
After we said our goodbyes a feeling of existential drama overcame me, the likes of which I have not experienced in years. I think I love her, but thats the least of my concerns. What ails me is everything about her, everything that surrounds her. I should be grateful we even talk, how fucking pathetic is that? I feel like an NPC and she’s the main character. Horrible, horrible to feel this way. She occupies too much space in my mind and I cannot help it.
The light fell quickly, an expedited retreat from the scene. My home and my chair by the window near the fire are still here, as I am. As the sky darkens and the cold orange light goes too, shadows begin to bounce and flitter across my walls. I sit entertained and distant, letting the day go.
dripping sounds and splish-splashing is what can be heard in the sewer. A rat by the name of Senefin moves quickly and industriously through the murky waters.
Data echos down. Raw data, not yet examined or naturalized. Through silicon doors and portals, raw materials make these machines, smart yet daft.
October is morose with portals of beauty strewn about the scene. October is harsh and bitter. October is when the sky grays and the earth hardens, tensing itself in apprehension. October is full of remorse and cold, classic beauty. October is dark and retreating like a curtain being drawn.
I have seen this season come and go. I have seen many things, most from the window upstairs. I have a good view of things from there. Well situated. I burn wood I get from the woods to the North of my home. The wood crackles and snaps and spits and pouts and warms me.