Imagined?

Informed

Inconcievable

Ill

Insulated

hope and mixed messages

asking questions to clarify meaning

magnifies and comes undone

and what is heard not what is said

in two directions lost

intention pure by all cognition

problem was the cost

taken further new confusion

it sits in the trash

tarnishing

and that’s not what I’m sorry for.

a gift of sorts to find a fine line of truth

until forced to ignore

the only map I had to plot

a course through unknown, unexplored

mysteries

that assuredly contains misinformation

and a denial

based on sound reasoning

and theories

and anger

and mistakes of being too young

to trust my intuition

which brings me back to a crossroads

that I will not

turn back from

this time

The baffling closeness of a touch

And no words

Fulfill something in me.

Senses active

Synapses effective

Most of the time

Gatekeeper of mysteries

And riddles

Ancient script

Rewritten in our hand

Ideas of freedom

Brain lessons

Heart lessons

But I have to learn this lesson

On my own

Missing perpendicular

Orientation

Dictation

Like I once read

Inspiration

Surrender

In this surprise

War

Nausea

As the pangs of

Loss catch on my damage

And pick up speed

I have an idea,

But I don’t trust my decisions

To take into account

My need in this life

To do more than

Breathe

This abstract logic

This tectonic plate of longing

Eros gilded

Forces like wind

I make my decisions

I wish

From another place

Knowing enough of the path

Longing to move past this

Disproportion

I carry carved into my soul

And in my arms

For the desire

I feel in my body and being

Piggybacking damage

With regret

On what

I venture

To guess

To me

Is

Love

Like I’ve never been capable

Of imagining.

I was working on archiving all the rough recordings of band practice for the past year and a half, and had moved everything to a single hard drive.

The hard drive will no longer “spin up”

We may have to fork out 3 grand to drive savers.

There wasn’t anything super critical on the drive, but it’s a chronicle of a year’s work.

See www.myspace.com/synthdave

for my latest writings and blogs.

dave.

It is nice.

I’m not depressed anymore. I turned a corner a while back,  and it feels  good.

I’m  keeping my blog on  myspace now,  so more people can access it.

www.myspace.com/synthdave

I’m a little sleepy today.

I won’t be updating this blog very often, unless I can think  of an easy way to have it automatically update my myspace page.

We fail.

Others fail.

This failure is something that no-one can avoid.

There are a number of ways to approach this:

1. Give up, and dive into the failure with full abandon. Decide that humanity is just another useless organism infecting the planet and embrace as pure a nihlism as can be accomplished.

2. Get bummed out. I’ve been here quite a bit lately. Its not the failures of others, so much as my own that hurt.

3. Chase the vision. I think this is the correct answer. Its not about perfection, or happiness as an achievement, but rather the pursuit of those ideals and ideas that we have the capacity to imagine – this causes us to consciously evolve, to become greater than we are. It is the embracing of our frailty as a place to start and also embracing the possibility of something bigger than ourselves as we are that we can become.

I’m tired of judging: myself, others, being judged. I accept the facts as they are and I dare to dream of transcendence.

There is another thing that is easy to lose sight of in this comedy. The fact that there is more going on in this universe than humanity. More than  our hopes, dreams, failures, disappointments, and accomplisments. There is suprise.  There are things we didn’t plan, there are things we didn’t know we could do or feel or experience, and it has been my experience that the more conscious I can make my living, the more I get to pull out of a state of disappointment, and guilt, and move into a sense of surprised wonder.

This frailty makes the transcendent surprises even more  miraculous. It reminds me that each breath is a gift. Our will may choose the next action, but the energy it actuates is not earned, it is grace, and I am grateful.