Monday, August 18, 2008

Lucifer the Bird

Justin, you amaze me.

Our desperate attempts to control things are just ingredients to become old and unfulfilled. Birds fly away, and if the bird didn't, I'd argue that it really wasn't a bird at all. Instead it was a reprogrammed creature designed to help mankind feel like it really was in control of elements that, in a more realistic perspective, they have no control of at all. But, again, this is just setting up the pins so they can get knocked down, because we get phone calls, phone calls about cancers, phone calls about car wrecks. All bitter reminders that we are one random cellular malfunction or one person's sleeping problem away from realizing our own inablility to control.

I think the liberation comes when you enjoy the ride. I've never surfed but I'm going to draw the simile anyways. K, so, we need to view life like surfing because you can't control the wave, you can only control your toes and enjoy the ride, and always go back out for more. Just except the fact that you might drown and go out anyways. Go back out because that's why you came to the beach.

Back to the bird. Lucifer, adieu, our hope is that you find some hot Robin and move into her nest. And that might just be the hope for us all.

Friday, August 1, 2008


It seems like the only times I know a Natalie is when it has to do with love. I loved a Natalie once, my friend loved a Natalie, and my other friend said that she hated a Natalie because her brother loved her.

Love is, love is a ghost. Its extremely hard to describe with words and everyone has their own version of what they saw. It comes and goes when it wants and the more you try to trap it, or take a picture of it, the more you're accused of staging the whole thing. And I think if you asked someone who has fallen in love at first sight to describe what it feels like you would discover that it sounds a lot like someone's experience of seeing a ghost. It took their breath away and they never ever will forget it. My parents fell in love when they first met, my dad said to me once, "When I touched your mom's hand for the first time it was like I had known her for a thousand years." He never was the same, still can recall every detail almost forty years later. I constantly touch hands now, just hoping it will be like turning a corner in my house and seeing my grandma or something. Yet, the more I hope for it, the more I want the easy road of first-sight love, the more I only hear of other people's ghost stories. Then there is that part of love being just like a ghost. A person's drive to see one, to experience it, to have their own story that tops someone else's, makes them crazy, someone a ghost would never want to be around at all. One more. Love is like a ghost because it is constantly misdiagnosed. I can't tell you how many times I've found myself with head way over my heels yet when I discover it, it was really some punk kid playing a prank. No ghost at all.

Maybe that's why we sleep in the dark, all alone. We aren't waiting for ghosts, we're waiting for love. You know what, hold on, I'm not done. There isn't just one ghost. Sometimes love is hard because we get so stuck in seeing the same ghost over and over, the same love over and over, and then they're gone. But maybe there is the problem, there could be a better love just around the corner, but we are stuck in the hall crying because the last ghost said he isn't coming back. That's just when the next ghost might just show up, when we don't want to see another one ever again.