Month: September 2011

  • A meditation on sex

    Today I saw a girl and wanted her body

    But if she would have let me, I would have walked away

    So I stopped in my tracks and thought,

    what sort of body is this?

    It is a world full of girls, but I would only

    kneel before one of them.

    A pure love, I don't know what it is

    I just know I feel like

    it's found in snow,

    on clear fall days,

    when I'm on a rooftop

    looking at the silhouettes of myself and a girl

    in a thousand window frames

    and I realize that I filled my life with nothing.

    But if I know pure Love,

    and have been given something that makes me feel,

    I find that I can do nothing else

    than see in them what he sees in me,

    and that that will take a lifetime.

    I pray to my body, please, do not be downspirited

    but be lifted up, know that you are here and alive

    that you move and live and exist

    and that you can love so many people in so many ways.

    and if the Lord who made you so allows,

    he will grant the time and place to do his bidding

    for her and her joy.

    weep, but live, for each day has its own light

    and a thousand steps in the future, you will

    feel the same sorrow, but these lands

    are not for your understanding,

    but for your chastening. 

    listen and love in invisible motions

    for you were not here at the first,

    but have been allowed

    just a short time,

    and you are not entitled to everything you see.

    find the fire in people and build it

    and you will find yourself similarly alive.

    nothing can stop those whose master is hope.

    but the living dead, they have snubbed that candle

    worlds ago, and you must not relate to it.

    if you desire it, you will find hope, and hope

    above all you will ever see,

    will not disappoint you. 

    if you believe you were made

    to love only one other,

    you believe in a very small world. 

    you are allowed to be here,

    and if you did not say thank you today,

    you have done at least one wrong thus far.

    this world is not our own.

    and you will leave, and what you leave was

    what you stamped on it, and whispered,

    so whisper that you will love what you can,

    and that you will wait for the rest.

    praise the Lord, he has made the rest.

    praise his Being, he has let us be here.

    praise his Name, these friends are his creation.

    i do not want to leave it, but i suppose i will have to try.

    but before and during and after then, i can only

    kneel and whisper and cry,

    'i thank you, Lord of all being, for this life is not my own.'

  • At your darkest

    You know your life is too big when you can't remember what you said to who.

    Money is something you should think about as little as possible. It's only meant for the actually good things. Don't let your mind forget and crave for it incessantly as though it were itself good.

    Sometimes stories take a long time.  A man went into the woods to chop down a tree every day because of how angry he was at his wife.  Every chop was another wish for her demise.  Then after a few years he is chopping and chopping and chopping and finally he slumps down in front of the tree and cries.  The day after that he goes into the woods to the giant pile of trees he has chopped and over the next few weeks he builds a cabin and he takes her there and says 'I didn't know it but I chopped all this wood so that I would find that I love you'. 

    But if you were by him, and saw him go into the woods, would you go into the woods and lecture him?  But you - who are you? Can you teach a man as well as ten thousand days of chopped trees? 

    Sometimes I feel like everything gets switched over real fast and it's not really fair.  I'll be talking to someone and they'll say 'I want to know everything about other cultures and people' and they seem to think life is such a big thing.  So then I will think 'They're right and I should act like life is a big thing all the time'.  But then I'll talk to someone else and we won't really talk about anything and if I try to they look at me like I'm strange and life is not a big thing.  Then I think, wait, everything just switched.  Is life a big thing or not?  How come it seems that what I should believe seems to have changed, just like that?  I guess some people just don't think life is a big thing.  But life I always think is a big thing because it's about you and what you'll do with your life and if you will see how God fills the world and how you will respond to him, and if it's like that, then everyone should think that it's a big thing otherwise they'll be doing a really big thing – life – without knowing they're doing it.  And how can someone be doing something they don't know they're doing?

    How many friends do you have where you have noticed changes in seasons of their lives?  That's how many people you have a true intimacy with, an inside look at their subtle changes of attitude and action. 

    I think it is worth seeing people through different seasons.  Maybe you can just be there for someone – no words, just being there, an understanding, or maybe just a hope – and after many years they will drop their ax, slump down in front of the dented tree, and you can kneel beside them, and after they have finished weeping you can help them up and start building the cabin with them.

    And maybe that's what it means to love someone at their darkest.

  • Thoughts and themes for three fifty-three

    Most things I see just make me wonder.

    Facebook has the right ideal, it just doesn't deliver on it.  Connection is good.  It just doesn't connect you.

    I'm one of those people who gets tired of pretending.

    The fact is, a little part of you dies every time you have an emotion, but you have to hide it from the person who just walked in the room.

    Every person's life is a certain size. You can only have inside jokes with so many people.

    The goal of a restaurant worker should be to not lose their soul. It should be everyone else's goal too.  But mainly the goal of the restaurant worker.

    It's a very important fact about you how you treat strangers. I can tell a lot about you just by what you say to me when I say hello to you in the street.

    The problem, the same problem, will always be just that you always adjust yourself according to others' expectations. 

    I want to always be defenseless.

    I'm glad for all the pasts we don't share. You can't see it, but I decided not to hurt you.

    Today I'm going to find that secret melody, that emotion deep in the heart of things.  And then when we're all alone at night, looking out over the Scioto, we'll know that it's real.

  • The tortoise raged across the room

    SENSICAL THOUGHTS FIRST!

    That's how we all live our lives anyway. Sensical thoughts first, can't let others think we're doofuses.

    There's never been a case where they rule guilty and then the guy goes 'Ah, busted. It was a good try!' And why not?  Why do they always maintain their innocence for thirty years in jail.  After all the jury never goes 'Wow, he's kept up the whole innocence thing for 30 years in jail. I guess he wasn't lying after all.'

    If I got caught and they declared me guilty I would give the gig up right away.  ‘You guys are good. Real good.  The prosecutor got a few things wrong, and I can tell juror #4 voted guilty because of his sugar high, but still, not bad at all.'

    Edolphins are the chemicals released in your brain when you exercise that make you feel really happy.  There’s a big lake of water and the endolphins jump out of it in an arc and there's a little person who looks just like you that jumps on them to get to the other side.  If the little you keeps jumping on the endolphins then you will stay really happy.  But if you don't exercise the little you drowns and you will be very depressed.

    I’m pretty sure that was on Bill Nye.

    Do you have any enemies?  Come now, of course you do.  That's why I'm making Foesbook.  Foesbook is the social network where you can find your enemies and after asking to be their enemy, you can become official enemies.  Then on their wall you can post all your threats, insults, grievances, promises for revenge, or whatever.  Some people will have an arch nemesis, and when you become an arch nemesis with someone an image of two clashing swords will come up on your other enemies' news feeds showing that you are now arch nemeses with that person.

    Also, you can search around and look at profiles to find new enemies. 'What? This person's thinks Star Wars episodes I-III are the best in the series?  Click. Enemy.' 

    Some people I know would request your enemyship if they found a grammar mistake on your site.

    And you will, of course, be able to 'hate' each other's comments.  All easy and convenient, right there for you on Foesbook.

    Ok, I am probably going to go break some traffic laws.  Well not really.  But I've been thinking recently about how if a cop pulled me over I would feel like I was a good person.  So many people drive off, like in the TV shows.  But I decided to pull over.  He probably loves me right about now.  Pulling over for the police when the colorful swirly lights go on; aw, Phil, you chum!

    All have a swell evening!

  • dancing slowly

    The moon is quite a romantic concept,

    I thought as I walked along

    Then I heard a cricket chirping

    but it stopped just as I walked by

    and I thought that was romantic too

    Then I thought about writing

    and how romantic it is

    but then I thought with a sneer,

    It is 4 AM. 

    Of course these things seem romantic.

    but that's when I realized

    that walking at 4 AM is quite

    a romantic thing to do.

  • Like a traveler

    Scared, scared to be brilliant, I feel like everyone's a fool, and I'm on the throne, king of the fools, the biggest fool of all.  When the world is a comedy the jester is the king.  Isn't that what it feels like when fall comes around? 

    People only wait so long for you to say something.  If you don't say anything, they'll just keep talking.

    Sitting in chairs - is that all life is?  People get together and sit in chairs. I don't want to sit in a chair. What if it's booby trapped with a meaningless life?

    HA! Drunk people are predictable. They act weird when they drink a lot of that liquid there, the one in the brown cylinder.  But me, the world, we get weird when we don't know when.  It happens and then it's weird time.  That's a lot more fun, the unpredictable: you don't go to a bar to lose control, you go there to control your uncontrollableness.

    You know how people are waaaaaaaay inside their heads?  They have plans, an ultimate life plan, and you don't know what it is, and nine times out of ten they don't know either.

    Stuff.  Why do we have so much stuff?  We must care about it.  I've decided to divide my clothes into three categories.  1) Sentimental Value (SV).  2) Deep Reserves (DR).  3) Actual Clothing (AC).  Using these three categories I should be able to burn about everything else I own, since I don't need it.

    Like a traveler!

    There's a context of reasonability.  It might make sense to go out and buy a snow cone if you want one.  But if the nearest snow cone is thirty miles away that might not make as much sense as believing in God for the time being.  If our lives were a lot longer or we lived with a lot more things nearby or we knew a lot more, what it makes sense to do would change a lot.  Why do people do things? I don't know. For some reason they thought of it and it made sense to them and so they did it.  But someone's acting the right way, and I wonder who that person is and how they knew to do it that way.

    Blogs are very Shakespearean, you know that? No one would ever say this stuff in a social setting, so we have to come to the side, and now it's time for the soliloquy, or the aside, or maybe it can be both, I'm not sure.

    Academics have the most secure jobs on the planet. They're the only ones who understand what they write, and there's an understanding, a subtle and quick nod at their conferences right before they leave, that they should continue making things a little more confusing than necessary, just so average people continue thinking we need them to understand everything, since obviously we can't.

    Sexual desire, have you ever thought about how weird that is?  We have a body, but sometimes we want another person's body.  Why do we want their body?  We don't know.  If we were really wanting someone else's body, an alien would ask us what was happening, and we'd say we need another body, and they'd say 'why?', and we would say 'I just . . .do' and they would say 'you already have a body' and we would say 'but I want someone else's' and they'd say 'but why?' and we'd say 'I JUST WANT ONE OK'. 

    'You humans are very strange.'

    Rainy streets.  What is it about rainy streets?  I don't know what it is.  They're either haunting or beautiful, or maybe just meaningful.  I'll never understand rainy streets, the way they make me feel; like something's important, but I don't know what. 

    I'm feeling a bit feverish.  I saw a mug the other day that said 'Simplify' on it and I wanted to get it, but then I realized that would complicate my life.  I blame everything on buying that mug.  That mug is also why I'm getting rid of all my clothes, and the books that just sit there watching me like neglected children.  What do we need in life?  A few friends?  Some music?  Continuity? 

    What do you need?  What kingdom have you been made fit for?

    My friend Alex was in his room writing all day yesterday, perhaps going a little mad.  His roommates would peer in and ask him 'Um...are you ok?'

    'That's why I called you,' he said.  'I knew you would understand.'
    'Of course,' I said, staring to warm up some tea.  'You're in your element.'
    'Exactly.'
    'You just gotta put a sign on the doorhandle that says 'Self-Actualizing. Do not disturb.'
    'But that would ruin the whole thing.'
    'That's why I never got you one.'

    A girl was walking down the street last night (a rainy street) and talking on her phone about her day.  I was like 'Wow! We get to hear inside this girl's life'.  And that's when I realized I like to know about people, and that friends are people that let us know about them, and then I started caring a lot more about what my friend Nick was saying to me. 

    How does someone become a friend? Listening to someone close tell you what they feel, something you could hurt them with by being insensitive, you think 'whatever the secret code is, I guess I got it right, and now they're letting me know them.'

    I've been stressed a lot, but I don't smoke, so how am I supposed to show it?  Everyone looks at smokers standing by buildings and thinks, 'My, they must be stressed about their life'.  But if you don't smoke, people think everything must be going fine.  Maybe I'll just stand next to the smokers and quietly murmur 'I'm stressed' for five minute increments.  People will get the picture.

    Smokers do a lot of good though, because seeing them relieves my stress by reminding me that I don't smoke, and they relieve their stress through smoking.  All in all everyone ends up less stressed.

    We can't use the word 'twilight' anymore because it was destroyed.  But that's ok because there's the word 'gloaming' saved as backup all these years in case anyone destroyed 'twilight'.  I also sometimes say I'm feeling 'gloamy' if I am feeling gloomy and wistful at the same time.

    Ok..I'm feeling it go away.  It's all winding down, time to stop soliloquizing.  Once you use the word 'soliloquizing' you feel a lot of closure about finishing something, like how zooming in on a snowman is a good way to end a movie.  Actually that seems kind of weird . . but also hopeful . . or I don't know. Kind of like a rainy street, I guess.

  • Born with a love of darkness

    Feeling my darkness.  I don't remember when - but sometime, perhaps while walking yesterday morning- I thought about everything happening inside of me.  And it was strange.

    I know what it means to love.  I know what it looks like to be an upbeat and friendly person. I know I should forgive my parents.  I could drill myself into the ground and things would probably get better.  So why don't I?

    It's just - well, I can't explain it.  There's this feeling, this rising, forceful, overwhelming storm of a feeling that says 'NO, DON'T DO IT.'  It seems insurmountable.  It doesn't feel like an option to say 'Ok, this feeling is telling me that I'm offended and not to forgive, but I'm going to anyway.'  I know I can.  I could just bystep that feeling; I'm a human, I'm the one in control.  But when it happens, the feeling always wins.  There's this feeling and it just points all my guns outward and saves all my sympathy for myself.  It is automatic, and it is powerful. 

    What do I do?  Love covers over a multitude of sins.  I know, K., I know. 

    A secret love, a quiet love, that's all our bodies were meant for.  Maybe destroying yourself would be the most freeing thing you ever did.  It doesn't feel that way.  I can feel it now, the momentum rises: protect yourself, you are worth it.  But that you were born inside of that particular head is not very interesting.  We think it is very interesting, but it is not.  We are not very interesting.  That feeling says we are, but that feeling came with the body.  And that's really it's only claim to authority.  It comes with the body.

    I am a Christian because I know my darkness.  People believe hell is a great objection to God; I think it is his strongest argument.  It lives - if it can be called 'living'  - inside me. I can feel the sticky vapors of a raspy breathing, always screaming its importance, always directing me inward, always enshrouding and killing everything.  For me there is either a need for redemption and a God, or just a need for redemption.  Maybe others don't need redemption; maybe they don't have the voice.  But I do.  That's what I know.

    To be a Christian means to go through life continually realizing what a fool you were the year before.

    It seems very hopeless.  The closer I get the farther away I seem.  The more you know about what's good, the bigger you realize the good is.  When I was a kid, I always thought there would be a day I'd wake up and know God.  I don't know what I thought it'd be like.  But I didn't think it would be like this. 

    Lord, wash away this shore of pollution and sediment, this bay of floating debris; this carousel is very dizzying, and I don't want to be far from you.  It is a big life to live, but you are bigger than everything.  And I always forget that.  Save me from the worries of a dizzied and careworn mind.  How small I must seem to you.

  • Arriviamo

    I feel very different than I did yesterday.  I was researching my ancestry and found out the name of my great grandparents.  Gaetono Greco was born in Palermo and married Anna Santospirito sometime while they lived in Italy.  They had three daughters.  After that, for some reason, they moved to the United States and moved to Western New York where he worked as a stone mason.  They had three more daughters, one of whom, Josephine, was the mother of my father.

    I feel so changed to know all that.  Gaetono.  I didn't care anything before, but now I want to know all about him.  Who was he?  What was he doing in Italy?  Why did he and Anna decide to up and move to the U.S.?  Someone in a history book will say 'economic reasons' but surely it felt different than that?   As land dawned to the passengers on the ship, did he whisper 'Arriviamo' in Anna's ear?  Did he want to have a son?   I don't even know when he died. 

    I didn't know my grandmother had five sisters.  Three of them grew up in a country different than their birthplace.  They all grew up speaking a different language at home than they did everywhere else.  How can my life, taking place just a few years later, be so different than theirs?  I grew up in a town called Hilliard (well....pop. 50,000) with my five siblings and then majored in philosophy at Ohio State and now have no idea what to do.  Gaetono had the confidence to start a family and then move it a continent away.   

    When I think of a black and white picture of New York back then, people driving around their Model Ts, all the businessmen in top hats and black coats, I always forget that I'm existentially wrapped up with very specific people making their daily life in that world, or at least, in the Italian section of it.  Really, I didn't forget.  I just never felt it because I've never had the names to think about.  Gaetono and Anna.  That was their world.

    Why was I such a fool on Tuesday?  On Tuesday, if my grandmother was still alive, I still wouldn't have cared.  We grew up taking family trips to Buffalo, and I would sit in her small kitchen at the small round table and there would be a TV with The Price is Right on.  Tall grooved coke bottles were always by the door.  Green shag carpet in the family room, and a large TV with fine wood that you had to twist a nob to turn on.  In the basement she had a large counter and someone would stand behind it and pretend they were serving us drinks.  She always made the best soup. 

    But I was so young when she lived in that house, I never directed the conversations when we were there.  I only thought she had the one sister.  How much I would ask her if I could go back.  I would want to know everything.  But her and all her five sisters are gone now.  My dad never liked saving things.  He was a star runner but one day when he went back to his room in Buffalo he threw away all his trophies.  By the time I became a runner I wanted to see them, but they were gone.   

    More than anything, I want to know all the little things.  Did the sisters ever sneakily stay up late and tell each other scary stories?  What were their embarrassing secrets they would laugh at each other about? 

    Human life is so very interesting.

    Thinking about it all makes me want to have a family.  I certainly have not built my life around the idea.  But to have kids and bring them back to their grandparents, Rich and Janet, and for them to know my five siblings and how goofy we all are, I think would be a terrific way to grow up.  Years down the road, they'll have kids, and their kids will ask about Paul and Philip.  Were they close brothers?  And maybe Paul, who is younger than me, will still be around, and their parents will go say 'Go and ask him' and Paul will tell about the 'What if?' tea party, and mariokart, and the forts we built, and they can marvel at how far back the past goes, and how much went on in it that only specific people know about.

    And then, of course, they'll go read my blog.

    You'll beg my pardon, but this human life thing is all still very new to me, and I have a feeling it always will be.  What a world.