Love: Stars and other Big Gases

So here we are fourth entry into a blog that supposed to be about other peoples stories and yet guess what it ain't that yet. And on top of that I'm not even sure this entry will have a story that accompanies it, but just like anything in my life if I don't vet it out, these thoughts will continue to float around my mind like that plastic bag on the highway getting sucked under everyone's tires. Also I wouldn't want to ruin someone's heartfelt tale, hilarious antectodal story with terrible structure and not suitable editing, which I also don't do enough of that already. So if you hate commas, lots of and and ands, maybe even a run on sentence or two this might not be the read for ya. Also if you've ventured around to my other blogs, typing without having a few drinks before hand is pretty tough...

on to it.


I remember as a kid, being young and thinking the world was so big beyond my fingertips. (insert when I was a kid old man voice something possibly lost with the internet age). One fall night I was in my backyard, cool air blowing around and not a light on in the house or the 'hood.  There were so many stars in the sky back then. Brighter. Twinkling. I vividly remember thinking how I felt like I was inside some globe. Inside someone's room with their light on. Being covered all around with black construction paper to darken the lights only escaping would be these tiny tack holes peering the light in from the great beyond. Feeling as small as an ant. That night stands out to me in so many ways, but most of all having the ability to understand how important the moment really is, and yet how insignificant time and our place in it.  I'd hate to think that at 6 years old or whatever age I was I stumbled upon self awareness because I was still making giant play-doh worms that I thought had to be a world record, yet whatever it was, the moment left with me the ability to move beyond negativity. If I was some ant in some kids globe then why should I spend energy or time on feelings that bog down my narrative.

So what does that have to do with love, ants don't love, I mean in a purely non sensical sense they do just in a Mormon type way, sister-ants on TLC. What it did do was create a unique vacuum where I've never met a girl I didn't love. and never have I ever loved and lost. I'm like some interstellar bath mat that can't get dry as every other moment presents a sloppy shower time.  Now don't confuse this with the inability to not move on, my perspective no one can ever just stop loving, but the human ability to survive and keep moving is very real. These loves I've had rather brief encounters or long digested self prophetic relationships clings on the soul with a fighters grip.  For me it's not some weights that's dragging me down into some depths of despair or towards  deep inescapable waters, not at all. For me these loves are like pages in a novel forever propelling the story, developing character connections and thematic resolutions.  They instead drive me into further being a good person.  Their faults in the desolation has less to do with me putting blame towards them and more towards having the ability to see life from different angles.  Whatever perception that caused the end gives me insight on how to better understand people. The more shoes I wear, the more miles I walk, the better this life I get to live, because in the end the little blip we are in this universe why wouldn't I want to make my time better (focusing on the good). As the years have moved on, and those Tack holes seem to dwindling in the sky, eventually that room we are in, the light might just get turned off. When that happens and the darkness creeps across, I'm going to be glad I spent more time holding on to whatever love I've been given and enjoying those moments for what they were then whatever the latter options are.

One downside to that is, even the slightest look I get from a girl becomes booming moments of sound barriers broken.  I see the prettiest of faces and wonder about all the good things that could come from them.  I picture endless journeys and musing fun.  I get sucked into putting so much effort into what will eventually amount to likely forgettable moments for them. Moving intangible boulders just to peer a smile.  Maybe even a gleaming eye.  Movable moments like a clocks pendulum, ever swing between me and who ever may be next in my path. Of the burdens to carry, this would not be the short end of the stick.  I'd rather quickly love and do something nice then move between girls like a forgettable fart (I can make 2 fart jokes in a row don't judge). Also I'd rather be able to muse about love daily then focus on what could be a clusterfuck of never ending negative news at our fingertips now.  Which is why I enjoy being able to fall quickly in love even with brief encounters, some of the greatest writers in history never got to be with the ones they love. Some never got live to the age of 34. Some never even got to experience love however decayed façade it was.

I just wanted to follow up, my divorce whatever you want to call it last week, with what my perspective really is. That of just some kid who looks at the stars and sees what a giant playground we really are on, and isn't afraid to have a little fun.

I would make some dirty joke about coming to play with me but I wont. or I did. Does saying I wont do something count.

I'm sorry this was some drab that probably meandered towards just inane thoughts but I really didn't want to write about the specific story of my Mom's death. So I'll save that for another time.

Now my Top 3 John Keats love quotes



1)
The poetry of the earth is never dead.

2)
A thing of beauty is a joy forever, its loveliness increases, it will never pass into nothingness.

and my favorite quote of all time:

3)
Love is my religion-I could die for it.