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| Friday, January 30, 2004 |
| Cluster Unfucked |
| posted @ 12:52:00 MST by bryn |
| http://www.linuxlabs.com/clusgres.html Drool. |
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| Thursday, January 29, 2004 |
| Random Total Recall (of Dumbness) |
| posted @ 02:10:00 MST by bryn |
| The oddest memories come back to haunt me sometimes. It struck me this evening out of the blue that when I was playing in bands and we would play in Cleveland it probably wasn't really that funny when we would say "Hello Cleveland!" when getting onstage before we started playing. The fake Brit accent probably didn't change that either. Good thing we didn't open with a cover of "Big Bottom"... |
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| Wednesday, January 28, 2004 |
| Luminescence |
| posted @ 03:22:00 MST by bryn |
| Life can sometimes be a late, lonely drive down the one-way darkening road. Even the living trees can be shadowy dark walls - their boney, withering fingers vacantly reaching everywhere and nowhere. Trying to find something that's more like anything can twist the outward inward and what seemed to be forward to backward. On such a night it might be easy to see the clouds as clouds but with even a little light in your sky the clouds can carry the soft radiance of the moon and the world to fill in all the spaces where there's nothing in the way. There may not be a sun, a star, or even the shining point of a candle but the whole world is softly and warmly brighter and bigger than what's holding you back. |
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| Thursday, January 22, 2004 |
| Another Note to Self: Hey Dumbass... |
| posted @ 02:21:00 MST by bryn |
| Listen to yourself once in a while. Listen to the real stuff, not the crap upstairs. All that's important is finding happiness in what little life you get. I'm going to keep beating it into your skull until you're a grinning idiot. Cut the shit already and try to find some balance. Get a little love in your life. What the hell else is all of it really worth? |
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| Wednesday, January 21, 2004 |
| Symmetry |
| posted @ 02:10:00 MST by bryn |
| All that's important is that nothing important is important. Note to self: space out for a while today. |
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| Tuesday, January 20, 2004 |
| Private |
| posted @ 02:27:00 MST by bryn |
| Apparently, the true measure of those things in life that are genuinely worthwhile is the moment... Not seconds, minutes, hours, days, or years. So is it so wrong to try to live in them for as long as you can? |
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| Sunday, January 18, 2004 |
| Finite |
| posted @ 03:10:00 MST by bryn |
| Such a fine line it is between hope and unfulfilled longing. Living with one foot in each of these places is not living - more like hiding. Is this a time where there is freedom in giving up? At least it's something with an outcome, a destination. When the road simply leads off to a blank horizon it's a step, an exit, a place to be... Someplace to stop the inevitable rush headlong into oblivion. Did someone put their arms around you today? If you have that you're rich, golden, loved... You've got it all. |
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| Saturday, January 17, 2004 |
| Season 9 |
| posted @ 02:10:00 MST by bryn |
| Twenty-two seconds. Falling away from a slowly frosting window in a frigid ice storm... backwards without care or catch, the view narrows, distorts, and fades until it's just gone and done. |
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| Friday, January 16, 2004 |
| Constance and the Refinement of Time |
| posted @ 04:10:00 MST by bryn |
| Tired eyes will once in a great while swing upward and lock on a star that simply stands out in the night sky. For once, instead of disappearing, it will grow brighter and brighter. |
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| Wednesday, January 14, 2004 |
| Shades of Shade |
| posted @ 00:43:00 MST by bryn |
| It's all too easy to find yourself suddenly standing in your own shadow, wondering who the asshole blocking the light is. |
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| Tuesday, January 13, 2004 |
| Every Day isn't Every Day |
| posted @ 02:03:00 MST by bryn |
| I love the rain, everything feels alive and connected, awash in a common nature as if the water is the blood of the earth. The clouds brush over the sky like soft spirits. In places with no escape mirroring pools deepen and shimmer with the echoes of raindrops swimming out into fading concentric rings, joining other memories of moments spent falling alone to the ground. Everything shines. The only thing I miss when it rains are the sunsets. I try to watch every one. I have yet to see two the same yet they are all unique and beautiful just like the moments of time we have in this world and the people we get to share them with. Every dusk makes me happy for another day and hopeful for the next. You may not get to keep the beauty of a sunset anywhere but your fading memory but you can always let go of the day with the hope that you'll see another. There's a really good chance it's going to be better than the last one... if only for the fact that it's another one. |
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| Monday, January 12, 2004 |
| Running into Yourself |
| posted @ 02:58:00 MST by bryn |
| Here you are. Life's been happening and you forgot to live. Keeping everything locked up got too easy. Now suddenly it's like running a shower in an unfamiliar house, trying to get the temperature right. You can't get it hot enough without risking burning yourself. Suddenly, the most mundane thing is the most unfamiliar and so is everything but the outer image in the mirror. Yet, somehow, you know you've seen this person before and you hope they didn't leave on bad terms. And hope is what it's all about, right? There's no going back but standing still is just as bad. |
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| Saturday, January 10, 2004 |
| Done and Done |
| posted @ 02:21:00 MST by bryn |
| So, somewhere along the way I not only lost the upper hand, but any sense of an even hand. A flower blooms and folds back upon itself as life looks elsewhere. If you know you're setting yourself up is it really a setup? A projection of resentment is still resentment. Let go. Let it go. What is it about this nature that ends up exploding into a bloody question mark on the wall? Why can it only be on the inside? So much energy could surely be focused into something good... Well, good to someone else but me. Sometimes my greatest wish is to have someplace safe and beautiful to rest my eyes. Lucky is one, as lucky as one can be. |
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| Friday, January 9, 2004 |
| Ding Dongs for Dinner |
| posted @ 01:35:00 MST by bryn |
| Last night I could swear at one point I had a dream about not being able to sleep that stressed me out so much I woke up and couldn't go to sleep. The scary part is that I don't know whether I dreamed this or not. Into every fall a little life must rain, or some shit like that. |
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| Thursday, January 8, 2004 |
| linear personality registered as dumbass 1 |
| posted @ 02:45:00 MST by bryn |
| Sometimes life is nowhere to be found. Sometimes life hits you like a bus full of buttcheeks on hot-buttered wheels. Every once in a long while it stares you plain in the face and asks you to pull it's finger. If you're lucky, then it craps it's pants and has to run to the bathroom mumbling "ooo-ooo-ooo-shit". |
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| Wednesday, January 7, 2004 |
| Note to Self: Beware the Stupid |
| posted @ 02:30:00 MST by bryn |
| Fun activity #322: Add the word "dumb" in sentences where you're describing the state of a person or object and using "is", "was", or "am". Example: "Elvis is dumb in the building." Example: "Frank was dumb eating a popsicle." Example: "I am dumb on crack." It's fun, really. |
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| Tuesday, January 6, 2004 |
| Surfacing |
| posted @ 01:15:00 MST by bryn |
| The first thing I remember after a brief breath of smoke is not being being able to breathe. The air just wasn't there any more, the feeling still makes me afraid to exhale when I think about it lest I be out of breath completely like that again. Even the smoke in the last bit of breath I let go would have been welcome next to gasping at nothing. Not even an instant later I felt a hot flash and then a sharp cold chill of a sweat broke out at the base of the back of my neck and washed it's way like an electric shock up the back of my head until it joined the blood pounding behind my eyes. Right at that moment everything faded slightly into panicked dizziness. A long moment passed and the masks dropped from above the seats and every arm around me rose like the hairs on the back of one big neck. Something bad was happening. With my pulse pounding in my ears and oxygen starting to flow the sound of the engines began to fade. If it weren't for a few muffled gasps there would have been almost no sound but the air outside rushing, yet uneasily slowing, against the body. Everything was about to change. Despite returning to complete consciousness I could feel myself getting lighter. The plane started to bow forward, beginning a listless swan dive, then it started to fall. Finally, understanding swept through the cabin... The screams started. They were nothing like the ones in the summer, the shrill squeals of little girls and boys being sprayed with a water gun or riding a roller coaster. These were deep, soul shattering wails. They were terror. Moments before I had been looking out the window and had admired the sun as it had just passed it's apex to the south around an hour ago and it's reflection was like a shimmering golden path from under us back to the coast. Like a bird against the bright sky there was a ship almost straight down, barely recognizable beyond a speck. It's wake left a feathery thread behind it. It was barely a mile or two out and had probably left port not long after we had taken off from New York. Paths converged here, now, at this moment. Everywhere around me people's eyes were wide but they were somewhere else. We all wanted to be somewhere else at that moment I'm sure. The screams had started to fade, replaced by shocked whimpers and escaping fear. There was no place to run, no way to run. In the subdued clamor I heard someone say "I love you." I looked around again and a fearful quiet had come over many people. Some were holding hands, some were praying, eyes were either closed or darting about as if grabbing what images remained to take along to wherever we were going next. At moments, they were like a dog's eyes when it knows it did something wrong but has no idea what. One woman about six rows ahead of me wildly waved her arms and was screaming like a banshee. Even with everything else going on a flight attendant made her way to the woman and started trying to calm her. For the first time I looked behind me and to my right and noticed the pretty girl with brown hair that I had seen alone in the airport. I had noticed her and even had thought about talking to her... But, I was already running away. I had just gotten through one of the worst times in my life and was still heartbroken over a girl named Danielle. I had decided to run off and finally go see the ocean and it was going to be good. Danielle was this sweet, raven-haired, lanky, cutely-tomboyish girl who I had fallen for like a first love even though I'd had a few by then. She had beautiful dark eyes and loved to laugh. I wanted to take care of her and really wanted nobody and nothing else in the world for the first time I could remember. The way she kissed me stirred my spirit. It was like she kissed me with her whole body, consciously and warmly pressing her belly to mine and placing her hands on each side of my face. My nights with her were warm and she liked to have orgasms at the same time, sharing the high. "Please... come with me" she would say. How badly I wanted to be there right at this moment... One morning I had awakened to a strange, subtle rumble coming from her bedroom wall and the faint smell of smoke hinted itself in the blueish dawn light. I heard someone yelling outside and stepped through the door into the kitchen, where the row of four large eight-paned windows glowed a strange shimmering orange. I stepped closer only to see flames erupting from the windows straight across the breezeway between buildings only a few feet away. I wheeled around and woke Danielle and then her roommate down the hall. They ran to the kitchen and stopped dead in their tracks admiring the flames. There was a clamor outside and the firefighters had arrived and were just now beginning to attack. The flames billowed out and crossed the divide, nearly lapping the windows in front of the two girls standing there. As I pulled on my shirt the windows began a crystalline creak and cracks started running through the panes of glass like invisible spiders were building a web. Something inside me leaped out and I screamed "Get out!" several times, ultimately even becoming angry at their seeming ignorance of the possible peril before them. In some ways I think this was the moment where I lost her. She was in it for the fun, because it was something enjoyable. I thought I had found true love. The frustration which had made me yell at her to get away from the windows and out to the street had starkly illustrated the difference in our feelings about what was happening between us. It was utterly plain in that moment to her I believe. I was making dinner for her when she got home from classes at night. I would take her to lunch to make sure she ate something decent on my own lunch break. The brass locks on her kitchen cabinets were old and nearly frozen and I took them all apart one by one and had cleaned and oiled them and put them back. It was too much, I was too much. She even told me as she broke up with me that I was exactly the type of person she wanted to meet when she was ready to settle down, to get married. She said she wished she had met me a few years from now. Not even a few days before she had complained about her bedroom door not shutting properly. I promptly had removed the door from it's hinges and spent the afternoon planing and sanding it until it gently clicked shut perfectly. I loved doing it too. Why would the word "plane" strike me as amusing in this moment? For an instant, I thought about getting up and going and sitting next to the brown haired girl and offering my hand. It was as much for me as it was for her that I wanted to. To this day I wish no one ever has to find themself alone in those last moments, the loneliness dwarfs the fear. The engines went silent and I could smell vile rubbery chemical smoke seeping at the edges of the yellow cup over my nose and mouth. The plane pitched forward, too far forward. I heard thumping behind me and an avalanche of bags, magazines, plastic cups, books, pens, and human clutter was falling forward through the cabin, bouncing off the seats and the backs of peoples' heads. The thumping was still coming and a flash of stainless steel went by me on the left. A beverage cart was falling forward through the cabin, it's contents pinballing their way in a cloud around it. It smashed into the bulkhead at the front of the cabin, the corner burying itself into the material. One of the flight attendants who had gotten up to calm people himself fell forward several rows of seats. As the seatbelt dug into my hips I pressed my palms against the seat in front of me to try to keep some sense of control, to be nearly upright. It was somewhere in the eternity of the next minute that a sense of peace washed over me. I knew it was coming, I knew it was done, I knew it was all over. What is the thing that so many people fear so deeply? Death. It's the ultimate question with only one answer and the only way to resolve it is to go there. That's it. You know what? We get to find out the great secret of the Universe and know what happens behind the door at the end of our journey. Maybe we blink out, maybe we come back, maybe we rejoin a great river of souls flowing forward through a great unknown indefinitely while experiencing untold and infinite realities. That's the kicker, we're all going to find out someday. We all have that in common. The mystery is solved... you get the answer to it all. Suddenly nothing in this world matters and somehow there's peace in knowing. It got very quiet again, whispers and gentle sobs. But something happened. The engines throttled back up and I could feel myself starting to get heavy again. The nose slowly floated back up and there we were - flying again. I looked out the window and the fleck of a ship I had seen a mere few minutes before now filled a good portion of the portal. It was a freighter with a black hull and white railings and trim around the work-worn deck. I tried to remember the name but it didn't stick like I thought it would. We were low, lower than the view from some buildings I've been in. The plane climbed just a little bit and leveled off again. Finally, after all that we had been through, the intercom crackled on and the captain apologized that there had been no word from the cockpit but explained that they were "a little busy at the time." People breathed again. We were low enough where the lost cabin pressure didn't matter anymore but some people, myself included, still kept their masks half-on until the attendant came around with a bleary smile and explained that nothing was going to come out of them anymore. Shame, I had very recently acquired a taste for Oxygen, only minutes before it seemed. The crew explained that we would be making an emergency landing shortly as we limped low back over the coast and headed inland. I felt a strange feeling, like I was disconnected from the world outside, like we weren't supposed to be here anymore and nobody was expecting us to show up. As we landed each side of the runway was packed like a mini-gridlock with emergency vehicles of all types and shiny, silver-suited firemen at the ready with big foam hoses. The wheels grasped the earth and cheers erupted as we made our way to the terminal and disembarked. People hugged and cried and again I heard someone tell someone "I love you." The airline gave us free long distance for our trouble to call anyone we wanted to. I had nobody to call. I went to the nearest bar and spent just about every bit of pocket money I had saved for my first ever trip to see the ocean, in Florida, getting shit-faced drunk. The loneliness I felt that day is still with me sometimes, a ghost of the moment that haunts nights that are too quiet. I feel occasionally like I'm not supposed to really be here, like I cheated death. Oddly enough, sometimes I feel cheated myself. Here I was, about to have the ultimate and universal question answered for me and I was gypped out of it. It was like smelling chocolate chip cookies baking, knowing they were coming, and then going to the oven and finding it empty. I arrived late that day in Florida and headed immediately off to see the ocean. I ended up in Clearwater that evening just as dusk was hinting. Fate can be a funny motherfucker sometimes. When I got to the beach it was so foggy you couldn't see more than twenty feet in front of you. So, after my harrowing quest there I stood about ten yards out into the ocean I had always wanted to see, unable to see. It didn't matter, I was there and the fog around me felt like the world trying to give me a soft place to be after my ordeal, a fluffy blanket to calm my spirit. I don't know how long I stood there but my friend snapped my picture. The next day it was crystal clear, and so was I - about a lot of things. It took me a long time to write about it, I've wanted to for the more than ten years since it happened. Most people brush it off or don't want to hear about it. I finally got to talk about it recently with someone who actually listened to how it made me feel and more than ten years later maybe I can start to let it go in the ways that I should and keep it close in the ways that do good. So here's to life, it might take you some scary places but the rewards can be worth the trip. Be kind to each other and don't let anyone get too lonely, nearly everything is better when it's shared. |
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| Monday, January 5, 2004 |
| Desire and Stationkeeping |
| posted @ 03:12:00 MST by bryn |
| Looking to trade up... It shows like a black eye. Maybe it's an incorrect assumption but it's what keeps the kept and shapes contrived perception bubbling on the surface where it's easy to jump out before you get burned. Why be afraid to want... or is it need? Is it the greater desire to stay hidden where it's at least being in the embrace of radiance yet not opening up, reaching out, and being consumed? Is it the fingertip trembling, edgy, arms-length grasp of a hopeful fragment? It's like hanging onto a kite in a swirling windstorm with one hand - you want to bring it in close to you where you can take hold of it but you're afraid of losing what little hold you have on it and watching it fly away as the sky darkens. In the cold, subsequent clamor for understanding one often finds oneself leaving off and picking up in the same place indefinitely. It seems that understanding is simply an ever-shifting destination. What greater part of friendship is there than exposure? Trust melded with that exposure is what I imagine love to be. Are we just wired this way? Do people who live with everything in the open and exposed experience friendship and love on a different level? Is their experience of such things lessened or maybe even greatened? Exposure, be it emotional or physical is the greatest risk but also potentially brings the greatest reward. Somewhere along the way I forgot this. So... How to fix it? I guess that's another question: Do I just risk it all on one blinding flash of a moment or enjoy what I've got now, knowing it's safe but only an ever-sleeping seed of what it could be? |
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| Cycles and Spinning Waves within Waves |
| posted @ 01:20:00 MST by bryn |
| Did you ever find yourself with a runaway freight train of thought screaming through your mind? For that matter if you start verbally accosting yourself for talking to yourself, is that the last exit in the rear view mirror on the highway to insanity? Is purpose ultimately the hapless casualty of destiny? Why is the word "monkey" so much fun to say? When do things change... when there is no longer such a thing as a simple question? The difference is shrouded in uncertain suffering in multiple shades of darkness. Following these moments it's not uncommon to find yourself questioning yourself in the same vein, figuring that if someone is doing it there must be a reason. Wandering in the burning light of that stark sun without end is what will dig into your core and steal away with your life over the distant horizon. Is stealing time really stealing when it's the only really valuable thing we're given? Wasting time is a far greater crime it would seem. What is it that characterizes a waste of time? I think it's as simple and pure as counting the moments you find yourself someplace you don't want to be. How do you know if you're there? Well, if you're counting the moments that I think that's a pretty big damned clue. |
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| Sunday, January 4, 2004 |
| Reaching Out |
| posted @ 15:17:00 MST by bryn |
| Hello Mars. It's been awhile, how's things? Details |
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| Confession |
| posted @ 02:20:00 MST by bryn |
| My New Year's Resolution: Meet single doppleganger of woman I love. I'm enough of a dope that I hope there are two in a billion. /me has heard more than wanted and out of respect I let it just go... and lots of it... just let it be. For years I've been (t)here. I know. Yes, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever met. All others are shadows in the light of her and that beautiful heart. She is light itself. When she smiles, time stands still. I made her a promise in what seems like ages ago that I wasn't going to be one of "those guys". Yet, I am... But... I'm not. She's one in a billion............. or a trillion - whatever the going rate of something special is plus something more special to the power of "Yes." She's the gold standard... Everything I thought I understood about women... No... about people... has been shaken to it's core. This isn't bad or good - it actually gives me hope. Hope is the sweetest gift I could hope to enjoy. Well, second sweetest. "I wouldn't want you to think it's automatic." ;) Oh, yeah, and we did something pretty cool today... http://stardust.jpl.nasa.gov/ |
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| Thursday, January 1, 2004 |
| Nothing is Set in Stone |
| posted @ 03:42:00 MST by bryn |
| I hope not. |
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