...

A fire begins with a joyous spark
This spark dances and mingles like a drunken frat boy
Ignition to flame changes the meaning
Warmth and light as the parasite consumes
It seems odd that such destruction has so many benefits

But now I realize the scintillation isn't merely in my head
It's a vacuum to the air I'm breathing and all around me is chaos
People are screaming for their lives and for others' and yet
All I can do is wipe the sweat from my brow
Is this the apathy I have for the world?

So I lay down and the heat comforts me
I don't even notice that I'm slipping away
Everything now are embers and ash
And with my final breath I call out
But there is no one to hear

So I Was Looking At The Moon...

....and I got to thinking.

Have you ever known a top that moved in perpetual motion? I realize that's physically impossible here on this planet, I mean with gravity, friction, and whatnot. But, really...perpetual motion doesn't really exist, does it? And space can't possibly be without friction...maybe minuscule amounts, but there's got to be some sort of force out there that would cause friction. Perhaps, nothing more than the gravity of other celestial objects?

And that led me to think, what if the Earth is slowing its rotation? What if over the last...I don't know...million or billion years, the Earth's rotation has slowed by a second or a minute or something. What kind of repercussions would be involved in that? What if that would explain global warming or vast extinctions or total climate change like an ice age?

All of that came to me, just staring at the moon.

Think of that, while listening to this:

Chronicling The Times

Mid-October is upon me.

The seasons changing and the daylight hours fading is making me restless and depressed. I'm working now (at the Gap) and I'm meeting new people. They're all very nice and fun to be co-workers with, but that's the full extent of it. I haven't seen any of my friends in nearly a month, with the exception of my ex, who I saw a few weeks ago. It was great to see her; I was almost giddy. Is that pathetic? I'm not sure. I guess I'm having a harder time with no longer being with her than I allow myself to realize. What's up with that? I had an exchange with another friend of mine and she had some tough words for me. I can't seem to come to terms with reality and I'm suffering because of that. To put it into perspective, I haven't listened to more than a song or two from a metal act in weeks. I've been listening to alt-country, indie rock, and bluegrass; anything that is remotely sad in tone. Yeah, that's probably exacerbating the problem, but it feels wrong to listen to anything peppier or more aggressive. I've even lost all interest in video games and television.

I feel like I'm hitting the midpoint of a larger crossroad. I want to see where these roads will take me, but it's becoming increasingly taxing to push myself day-to-day. I'm finding that I feel like giving up more frequently. Perhaps that's also a by-product of how much I've been working. It should pay off (literally) but I can't imagine my limited sleep schedule has done me any favors. It all is adding up to a perfect storm of perceived helplessness. And that's likely what it is: perceived. I suppose the deciding factor is that I'm beginning to buy into it.

I recently went to the cemetery to visit my mother's grave. I stayed for about an hour, sitting at the headstone. I thought about how things might be different in my life if she were still alive. I also thought about what she'd think of me and how I'm living my life. I didn't come to any conclusions and I even feel like I just ended up with more questions. On the 29th, it will have been 13 years since she passed. I can't believe it's been that long. Every day I think about her and I miss her more and more. I never truly mourned the loss. I can vividly remember being alone at her side after she had slipped away and being in a state of shock and denial. Shortly before that, I remember riding the elevator to the floor she was on in the hospital and seeing the nurse turn the corner at the exact moment my grandma and I arrived and I'll never forget her face: she stopped suddenly and looked directly at me and after a brief pause she broke down crying and said simply, "I'm so sorry." I didn't cry at the funeral or when we made our way to the cemetery. I still haven't fully accepted it. I feel like the day I do will be both a time of crushing sorrow and of relief.

I don't really have anything else to add to this, other than admitting shameless whining and overall bitchness. I'm a grown man, but I act like a teenager. I understand my issues, but I refuse to do anything about them.

In a nightmare, I am falling from the ceiling into bed beside you.
You're asleep, I'm screaming, shoving you to try to wake you up.
And like before, you've got no interest in the life you live when you're awake.
Your dreams still follow storylines, like fictions you would make.
So I lie down against your back, until we're both back in the hospital.
But now it's not a cancer ward, we're sleeping in the morgue.
Men and women in blue and white, they are singing all around you,
with heavy shovels holding earth, you're being buried to you neck.
In that hospital bed, being buried quite alive now.
I'm trying to dig you out but all you want is to be buried there together.

You're screaming, and cursing,
and angry, and hurting me,
and then smiling, and crying,
apologizing.

I've woken up, I'm in our bed, but there's no breathing body there beside me.
Someone must have taken you while I was stuck asleep.
But I know better as my eyes adjust, you've been gone for quite awhile now,
and I don't work there in the hospital, they had to let me go.
When I try to move my arms sometimes, they weigh too much to lift.
I think you buried me awake, my one and only parting gift.
But you return to me at night, just when I think I may have fallen asleep.
Your face is up against mine, and I'm too terrified to speak.

You're screaming, and cursing,
and angry, and hurting me,
and then smiling, and crying,
apologizing.