Blackout International

Sun-worship.

After the sun's timely death, upon the new evening's lazy whims, under the indigo and silver, I wait with a face full of wonder. As a child gazing into the heaven's deep forlorn hues, I watch for the first hint of what I know is to come. An apparition, a yellow ghost, breaks the tree-line. Tawny and deep, the weightless progression of it's rise continues. Another day has ended, with yet a new one to begin. As I fall asleep, I have faith in a coming sun's light.

Fail, fall, predicate. It's stolen fate I'll emulate. The day's deeds undone. Tomorrow, bring another sun.

existence.

Every Monday, I'm wishing for Friday. Every Friday quickly becomes Sunday night. I am so sick of the toil involved with being human. I know I should not complain. I have a good job, and friends and family that love me. However, it just seems to become harder and harder to deal with everyday life. It is abrasive, and very unpleasant. Six out of seven days feel wasted. What am I looking for? What elusive elixir can enrich my life? Does it even exist? Maybe it doesn't. Maybe I need to distill it myself, and drink it down with gusto. Maybe it is a mind-set. An appreciation for life's little quirks and qualities. I don't think I appreciate the fact that I manage to respire ten to twelve times a minute without any effort. This altogether complex set of processes and reactions occur inside me simply baffles me. Why do they not stop? Hmm. I'm going to have to think on all of this for a while. How many of you feel this way? I would be interested to know.

Tired Wings

Please give me somewhere to lay my head. I have been uprooted. I have been taken thence and scattered. I have not only been looking for redemption, but also damnation. Anything familliar. Anything that feels right. Onlookers may view this as foolish, but it really is the substance of comfort. The clothing of the commonplace. It may be weak of me, but I need respit. I need a warm, sunny resting spot to ease my tired wings. I have travelled through the tumult, and have distilled only cautionary knowledge, and the pain associated with the infinite depth of loss. I have travelled far, and am ready to land.

Stars die alone.

Somewhere out in space, there is a dying star on the verge of supernova. When it detonates, how long will it take before the light reaches us? Before it's last gasp is known to us? It really is of no consequence. It will be gone by then, and we will be viewing it's death-rattle. Maybe it is dead already, and we cannot tell. Light can only travel so fast. There is no concept of instant gratification in the far reaches of space. When will it's message be received? Will it be received at all? Will we miss it when it is gone? There are so many more just like it.

I believe this:

Ultimately, all stars die alone.

Even the finest of wines will turn to vinegar when not consumed.

Note: Please excuse the utterly personal blog. I really need to get this off of my chest once and for all. This is very difficult for me because I have to admit to myself that I have been a complete tool.

...The bread will mold, the meat will spoil, the feelings will die.

I am sick. I feel like have eaten too much mediocre food at a bad buffet.

I believe I am nearly done with this little infatuation. One way, or the other.

Back-story: I have somehow managed to entertain a very intelligent, very beautiful, and very fickle woman for quite some time, and my patience has run thin. My emotions have been all over the place. How can it be so hard to connect with someone? I have chased her, and I have ignored her. I have been on her ass, and completely apathetic. I have been to one end of the spectrum and back again. Nothing works, and I can now say that I am completely frustrated. The only thing I haven't tried is the very obvious direct approach, but I am too much of a gentleman to do that, and don't want to risk her feeling uncomfortable. She has been very vocal regarding that scenario and other men. In the end, I have been obvious about my feelings, but all I have gotten was silence or indecision in return. I care very much for her, and want her to be happy. If this is happiness for her, then let her be happy. Let her heart wander where it needs to go. I will be a better "Switzerland" than I have in the past few months. I cannot let this bother me.

I stand on the cusp of a new chapter of my life. A life that deserves all the subtleties and intrinsics life has to offer. Why should I stress about this? Why can I not move on? Why does every other woman I meet pale in comparison? All good questions, and not very many answers other than the obvious. I feel something fairly powerful. I have quite a bit of experience with love, life, relationships, etc. I know what it feels like to be a bit smitten. That is all this can be. However, the more time that passes, the more bitter it becomes. Even the finest wine will become vinegar if not consumed. Hell, she would probably dislike me anyway.

In short, I may very well be giving up. I need to ruminate for a spell, and make a decision.

Is this worth it?

I guess I just don't know anymore.

The next week ought to be enough time to think.

I'm sure that all of you, my dear readers, will be riveted.