Just some thoughts (acting deep after a few glasses of wine)

Experiences of the past are such a blur to me. Certain movies, songs, or situations remind me of a past that has long since been forgotten. And in that brief association of circumstances, sometimes a memory is triggered. But by that point in your life it feels so far removed that it's almost like deja vu. It's so strange that large chunks of time are just lost like that. As you're watching a movie one night you are reminded of a situation from 4 years prior, and it almost feels like it never happened - you never would have remembered it if it weren't for the particularly accommodating circumstances that you happen to find yourself in at that moment. How is it, that it can almost feel like it never happened? How can it seem that far away? It's part of you and it's part of who you've become, so where did it go?

I've already established that my idea of heaven would be an existence in which a person could go anywhere in the universe, at any juncture, and just silently observe. Or take part, whatever floats your boat. Now, I am establishing (well, I guess it would be implied & encompassed by my prior postulation) that heaven should also be an existence in which you have a perfectly clear memory and understanding of all the occurrences in your life. Only, any shame, guilt, or regret of the negative experiences would cease to exist. It would just be pure understanding and perfect recollection of everything. God, do I hope that's the case.

There was a time, a few years back, when I was exploring the ancient ruins of Tikal, in present day Guatemala. I was wandering along the backside of an overgrown pyramid on a cliff-side, with jaguar/howler monkeys echoing in the background - screaming - a memory that in this point in my life is vivid, but almost in a dream sense. It was eerie and supernormal to anything I have experienced. And that was the first time that I verbalized, to the two people I was with, Allie & Kelly Anne, what my idea of heaven would be. I distinctly remember divulging these fascinations of mine to them, there in the Central American jungle and ancient Mayan ruins, as we marveled at the wonder of what the empire would have looked like back in its hay day. Quite the surreal experience, I tell you what.

And now, I divulge them to you, whoever may be reading. I hope they mean something.

Poetry, Idle Moments

I wrote this a little over a year ago. It's very suggestive, which is not common in my writing. Yet the image I had in my head while writing it was so peaceful and innocent, which is interesting. My creative writing teacher told me this was "beautifully languid" but then basically deemed it crap because he couldn't tell what was going on in it, that there are too many "he, she, and it's" and no real subject. I didn't know how to explain that the poem was written based on a fleeting feeling of deja vu.

Anyway, I normally don't share this sort of stuff, unless it's anonymous, so if you're reading this blog, tread lightly please...


A whiff of my boundary stood thick in the air
Of a humid night,
Silently writhing within a glaring stare.
Sitting there, her curls stuck to her moistened cheek
And her long layers, softly lingering, fell loosly upon her knee.
Standing air,
That thick wall of separation,
Cut the room in two
And blue, I could barely see you
Witnessing my fascination.
Her image fades from my thoughts at night
As chances of being caught,
Aloof in my mind,
Raise high the roofbeams of exhausted time.
And threaded flowers decorate this desertion of life and vigilance
Rested atop a decrepit pedestal of lofty sentiment,
As the memory of a lost summer day -
Of a rotating metal fan
That does not cool
but gently freshens the glistening speckles on her heat-heavy chest -
Whispers of this sweetly envisaged scene.
Amidst the thick, she sits:
Sticky skin from the beating sun,
thighs and shoulder blades pressed against all that's beneath,
Arms espoused with her weathered wooden chair,
Shiny and slick, basking in the afternoon haze.