Of Variants and Subspecies

First watch this video, then check out my friends blog about a recent near miss he had while riding his motorcycle.

Keep in mind several thing: When was the last time you broke a road rule to get somewhere because you thought you were going to be late getting there and didn’t take into account the bi-standards that were with you when you broke that highway law, that governing force?

What about a hit and run? Have you even seen a hit and run and just kept driving? Maybe you were scared, maybe you didn’t know if the person inside was dead or not, maybe you didn’t know if your help could actually make a difference, but the point is, you didn’t stop.

When you get behind the wheel of a mechanical device, when you operate that device, you submit that you have the necessary mental ability to make good choices in these situations, ones that will protect and help all of those involved whenever possible and necessary. Everyone matters, everyone, and if this is the case, no act is to be discounted.

Please take the time to head on over to theunderdevelopedpodcast.com to read about an experience a friend had that, for him, put exactly this thing into perspective. It’s a little raw, but take into account the moment and the action and the reaction of walking away from something like that. Even the best words sometimes lack what we really feel are the worst situations.

Electricity, oh it drew you near to me, but what you really needed, was to be rid of me.

You can peer at the night sky and know that what you see decorating the darkness above you are galaxies away from your “now”, lifetimes away, and still it affects how you feel in that moment: feet planted somewhat securely on concrete embracing stillness a universe below.

When I run at night I stop at the dark corners in my neighborhood and watch the sky pouring up into itself, as stars rich in bioluminescence dance in horizontal plains and vertical swirls from the ground up in a courtship of sex and doom.

Fireflys.

Your glowing winged sacrifices straining in the dark, only in those heated and moist weeks during the summer months, make me stare in wonder of life and motion and time. I can feel shifting plates inside myself groan at this simpleness of nature, and a sigh releases itself from within me.

These things are my childhood, my curiosity and my wonderment. With age their mysteries are unraveled, revealed, but their wonderment becomes no less important or relevant, the meaning of the thing only being more abstract in relation.

We are like the firefly, arching our decorated abdomens in the dark for want and purpose: for connection, only to have it be the end of us.

To be in the singular is to know that what you do, you do for yourself and no one else. You are loved by your family, and those that call you friend say they love you as well, but you see their contact through a sense of distance, and when you speak of loneliness, they say what is required and speak of your future, but never address your feelings or perspectives of now.

This is fine, it is the way it is, and sometimes you wonder at its length, for it feels as though it has been longer than you remember since you’ve done simple things: things that speak of togetherness and of being connected with someone else.

Slow dancing, holding hands, making out, knowing eye contact, even simple things like conversation.

This is what people do and you do not, but then not all people are together and do these things so do they feel like me? Awkward and slightly empty watching others do this?

The worst comment the casual observer makes is something like this, “why don’t you date more?” I’ve often wondered what a correct, and non-confrontational response would be, lately I simply ask them if they know any single and decent people. Always, -always-, the response is “no.”

So it seems my own response would be self explanatory. Show me the other single, awkward, introspective individuals and I might have something else of note to say.

For now I do what others like me do, go to places others go, do the things others do and live. I think about my life and the things I keep to myself because if my circumstances were different I could share them, but I don’t. Even in that, there’s family to share with, but it isn’t the same and they know it and they see it and they are at a loss with how to cross a distance not their own.

My cousin is now married and he has and is living in love and it is good. For that the world today is beautiful and I’m thankful.

As an adjunct to the whole “idea scrap” thing, a term which I am borrowing for my own purposes from someone I used to know, I’m going to start to add video clips of things that provoke thought for me. Maybe as an idea for a later reference for art material, a sound that triggers a certain train of thought, etc.

I used to think that everyone thought along a similar line: that they could relate to their experiences and to those of others through those things in our environments that help create and form our tactile experiences. Things like sound and texture.

Rain is on the list for today, not only because it did in fact rain, but because so many things in me come awake at the onset of a rain; the smell of it, the feel of it on your skin, the sound of it hitting other things. That’s what rain is for me.

*apparently the blogging tool via Flickr is a big disappointment because the video didn’t show up, click the link for rainy things.