22:36:50 Begin--
I told myself that if I were to let any more of me out into this medium of self expression... damn, try not to sound melodramatic. AT LEAST spin it with 70-30 optimism-pessimism. None of this 20-80 stuff. People are going to think that I'm one dimensional
.
So I'm gonna put on some MuteMath and let the vibe wash over me as I elucidate the things I cannot as of JUST yet put into words. Now is the time. This is as close to as stream of consciousness as I think I can get. It's almost improvisation, if it were not true. I'm not sure of the details about that...
*Starting music, gimme a minute.*
Good. So the other day I was sitting on a park bench at school, and staring up. My arms back, leaning back, looking up, relaxing. There were few clouds to speak of, so the sun was shining proudly. The breeze was so relaxing that I just let my focus shift out completely as I looked into the blue void (I was having a smoke break, I wasn't just sitting there like a transcendental retard). I began wondering about the sun, and how pretty the glare of the sun looked through my sunglasses. A bit like halos of light in the middle of your eye, and you are in a room of overwhelming whiteness--as such you might see if you were having an out of body experience or something of that nature. It was impressive to me because I'm simple in my needs. I thought it was one of the coolest things ever to think about how far away that light was, that light that was causing sunspots at that very moment. When I got up to go about my business again those sunspots followed me around and saw what I saw. I felt like a part of something bigger, if but for a moment.
Later on that night, I was having another cigarette, sitting on the stoop and thinking about how the stars look rather clear when the moon is sleeping. At least where I live, they do. So much so I can see faint oranges and blues and reds and yellows and whites... that moment just there, I felt like I had an inherited a pre-owned coloring book from some long-gone deity. A trinket under normal circumstances, sure. But there was just something special about that realization.
And right then, as I was watching a particular red star blink and pulsate, I noticed a plane crossing the sky. I glanced at it right as I saw my first shooting star. I felt elation and excitement and awe that simply dwarfed the experience on the park bench, earlier in the day. It really was exciting to me. I don't feel that way so often.
You know, one night in a bar about 5 or 6 years ago a sober man told me the most interesting thing. It had the opposite reaction that he had expected, to his surprise. He was surprised because I actually told him what I thought. As in, actually. He told me jokingly, on this night, that "You know Cale, I really do wonder what color the sky is in your world." He was sincere and kind, however, he was still joking. I simply told him that it didn't matter, really, because most of us go through our lives and never even look up. At least I had an opinion about it.
He really just expected me to laugh, I suspect.
I told myself that if I were to let any more of me out into this medium of self expression... damn, try not to sound melodramatic. AT LEAST spin it with 70-30 optimism-pessimism. None of this 20-80 stuff. People are going to think that I'm one dimensional
.So I'm gonna put on some MuteMath and let the vibe wash over me as I elucidate the things I cannot as of JUST yet put into words. Now is the time. This is as close to as stream of consciousness as I think I can get. It's almost improvisation, if it were not true. I'm not sure of the details about that...
*Starting music, gimme a minute.*
Good. So the other day I was sitting on a park bench at school, and staring up. My arms back, leaning back, looking up, relaxing. There were few clouds to speak of, so the sun was shining proudly. The breeze was so relaxing that I just let my focus shift out completely as I looked into the blue void (I was having a smoke break, I wasn't just sitting there like a transcendental retard). I began wondering about the sun, and how pretty the glare of the sun looked through my sunglasses. A bit like halos of light in the middle of your eye, and you are in a room of overwhelming whiteness--as such you might see if you were having an out of body experience or something of that nature. It was impressive to me because I'm simple in my needs. I thought it was one of the coolest things ever to think about how far away that light was, that light that was causing sunspots at that very moment. When I got up to go about my business again those sunspots followed me around and saw what I saw. I felt like a part of something bigger, if but for a moment.
Later on that night, I was having another cigarette, sitting on the stoop and thinking about how the stars look rather clear when the moon is sleeping. At least where I live, they do. So much so I can see faint oranges and blues and reds and yellows and whites... that moment just there, I felt like I had an inherited a pre-owned coloring book from some long-gone deity. A trinket under normal circumstances, sure. But there was just something special about that realization.
And right then, as I was watching a particular red star blink and pulsate, I noticed a plane crossing the sky. I glanced at it right as I saw my first shooting star. I felt elation and excitement and awe that simply dwarfed the experience on the park bench, earlier in the day. It really was exciting to me. I don't feel that way so often.
You know, one night in a bar about 5 or 6 years ago a sober man told me the most interesting thing. It had the opposite reaction that he had expected, to his surprise. He was surprised because I actually told him what I thought. As in, actually. He told me jokingly, on this night, that "You know Cale, I really do wonder what color the sky is in your world." He was sincere and kind, however, he was still joking. I simply told him that it didn't matter, really, because most of us go through our lives and never even look up. At least I had an opinion about it.
He really just expected me to laugh, I suspect.