Thursday, July 11, 2013

Such Fear of Growing Closer (For Fear of Losing All)

I guess I'm strange for holding on to things that mend me. When certainty abandons and the thoughts come creeping in, perhaps it's best to run from blooming comfort and find solace in the far less frightening same we've always known. What's threatening in sameness? What fear is found in old? Pull flowers with the weeds and let no pure or foul thing grow. Nothing lives and nothing dies; just planted seeds plucked fast for fear they, one day, all might wither; or will grow too well to stand their loss in winter.

               ...I wonder if it's best to let things go? 

...It's best just not to wonder, I've been told....

Why plant and toil and till and groan for something that may die before its season? So we stomp and crush the growing things, and retreat into our homes, so glad that we escaped such near, potential, threat of pain or glory. Then time goes on and nothing changes. Nothing's growing, nothing ages. Just the same old, safest, sameness that we've always held and known; but when the storms come in and the trust we've felt since youth is too frail for fighting, what grounded roots have we let grow in strength to hold? What new beauty then will lift us and what peace have we let bloom as newborn comfort? When the risk made us uneasy, did we stop the growth that now could be our mending?

 Did we let the fear to start become our ending?

                               ...I wonder if it's best to let things go?

     ...I wonder if we'll make it on our own? 

                ...It's best just not to wonder, I've been told...

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Stare the Wolf Right in the Teeth and Howl

Some things would be so much better if they were something else. It's strange, but "Famous Monsters" would be one of my favorite albums of all time were it done by anyone other than Misfits. Danzig leaves and you keep the name? Derek Jeter wouldn't be such a horrible person were he playing for anyone other than the Yankees. Signature guitars wouldn't be so awful if they didn't have someone else's name on them. Katy Perry would be far better, were she my girlfriend. Soccer wouldn't be so crappy if it was anything else. Call it shallow, call it irrational, but some things just stand in the way of themselves.

We played some non-sensical, parking lot, olympics for hours last night. Throwing baseball bats at yield signs, from various distances, water bottle/frisbee baseball, skateboard luge, human bowling, and other such awesome things.  We invented a sweet game - the name of which, can't be spoken - that used whatever we could find in our cars to blend hockey, golf, baseball, soccer and tennis. The basic premise was to get your water bottle into the drain, under par, by throwing it in the air and hitting it with a stick. The players on defense had tools to prevent success; some had frisbees, and were allowed to swat your bottle into the air, while others, with gloves, were allowed to catch the bottle. If your bottle was caught, the catcher became the batter, and the batter had to trade places with the person whose bottle was farthest from the hole. This went on for a few hours, until the police came for the 3rd time and kicked us out. Good times.

This past week has brought about a strange series of events. Nothing really too bizarre, more revealing than anything, really. It's funny how you can deny something for so long, only to find that it's been truth all along. I guess it's time to stare the wolf right in the teeth and howl...