Climbing Oaks in an Eternal Summer

Been reading Frank Herbert’s Dune Chronicles again.

Once more, it’s been screwing with my rough perception of things. I can’t look at stuff without contemplating it on a deeper level with respect to possibilities, prescience, and the overall effect.

Possibilities in the future.

In the short run, possibilities are roughly predictable. Humans are able to tap into an accurate prediction of events without much trouble, putting into the computation different external and internal factors.

In the long run, possibilities exceed the computations of man. Even technology has trouble keeping up. With regards to the Time factor involved, possibilities branch out. The tree grows larger with age. A multitude of factors to put into consideration are required, all beyond the short reach of Man.

Plied together with these rough ideas of the future, is the theme of Change. The Law of Change states that nothing remains constant in Time, except the law itself.

So why do we fill ourselves with the mundane? Weighing ourselves down with unnecessary baggage of emotional weight. Is it human to worry? In fact, while we’re at it, why worry about what makes us human at all? Let’s just live.

But in doing so, we literally begin to negate the necessities of civilisation at all.

Juicy topics. Loads of rubbish for the picking.

Freedom to Move

I had my first bboy session in a long time yesterday. Shoes and Joel came along, quite surprised they were willing to come.

Shawn has improved. Very much.

I had to deal with an issue of cowardice. Was afraid to make a fool of myself in a cypher. Should have remembered that to reject an invitation to dance is the rudest thing alive. Apologised to Shawn after that. I made a fool of myself while trying to avoid making the fool of myself. Irony slapped me in the face again, one to many times.

It won’t happen again.

Wish i had some pictures to upload. Didn’t occur to me to take any.

Next time I’ll take the olympus.

Learned to toprock. And discovered the sheer ecstasy in just moving. It’s wonderful. for 5 minutes, i was free. For 5 Minutes, that felt like an eternity.

Sanity in Insanity; The Price to Pay

O Madness!
Accept me within thine comforting embrace.
Allow me to lose the pain of existence’s tresses,
Tearing them from my soul’s tired grace.

Hiding here in my cave named Numb.
Safe from the assaults of the world,
Defended by the spears of Eccentricity,
Freedom of which isolation and queerness are the sum.

Floating upon the Raven’s back,
Evermore clouded by darkness and thunderclouds.
Where my screams are masked by drums in the black.
Muffled as if within a potato-sack.

And here I shall Lie,
Till the end of time.

In The Eye of the Storm

Exams are on.

Had 4 papers so far. Enough to slip me into that bare level of consciousness that the intense exam conditions result in.

Don’t think i did as well on Lit as i thought i could have. Starting to feel the competition. Going to have to pull up my socks really high if i want to soar. I refuse to let it lie low.

Once more, i’m confronted with the Void. Yes. The Void. That’s what i’m going to be calling it from today onwards. Richard just doesn’t cut it.

It made it’s presence known approximately 5 hours ago.

A sudden onrush of emptiness i’ve long associated with it’s entrance.

And I’m still in conflict with it.

Et Tu, Romulus? [Peace Be With You Brother]

In the midst of settling some last minute case-studies for physical geography right now. I’ve got the effects of El Nino in Australia and India, Hurricane Katrina: Occurence, Effects and Management strategies as well as several water management issues to tackle by tonight. Oh yes, one more important lesson to grasp, but i think I understand it pretty well by now.

DON’T. EVER. LEAVE. CASE. STUDIES. TILL. THE. LAST. MOMENT.

Pretty important lesson, i’m thinking.

Anyhow. Had dinner with parents and some family friends earlier in the evening. Was celebrating my Mum’s Birthday. We eventually got to the topic of children, infants and the infantile stage in particular, and all the intricacies of the raising and caring for the little one(s). My Mum broached the subject of my long-deceased godbrother, Kenneth. By right, if he were alive, he’d be my age. He was born in 1990 as well, in October. He passed away when he was a few months old because of a heart condition known as, hole-in-the-heart.

The discussion between my parents and the close family friends went on without my attention after that. I had my own little pondering right there and then, sort of blanked out. It was rude, i know, but inevitable.

If my godbrother were alive, he’d be the same age as me.

Would we have been friends?

Would we, perhaps, been in the same school?

Maybe he would have joined ODAC with me.

And played frisbee in the mornings and afternoons, following a study session in the library.

Maybe he would’ve been in the same class with me.

Maybe he would’ve topped the class.

…

…

And so on. I was fully engaged in this discussion of possibilities, but the underlying topic was not hidden from my view. Death. And all it’s intricate unknowns. A conundrum impenetrable by human understanding. Death is a release. Maybe Kenneth was lucky. He was released from living bondage while barely having to bear the brunt of it. No. The people who loved him, even within that short time of his existence, will bear the load. The weight. The pain of his non-existence.

And so we grieve. And shed tears. And move on.

Is being human really such a big deal?

Another topic for another time.

For now, let it suffice to say that, if i ever have the chance to meet any relation who has passed on, it would be Kenneth.

Because he’s the one i really would like to know more about. I just never got the chance to.

Afore The Test

Exposed, naked, under a clear blue roof.
White puffs of opiate clouds hang above,
Tantalizingly cotton-like; Like a wild array of poofs.
Or like the souls of dead men, baking in the sun; A wild-eyed stove.

Birds of many wings, flutter to-and-fro.
Riding the thermals of the morning’s grace.
Carrion-seekers, putting on a fair face; a show.
Vultures with appearence of eagles, death-eaters with a fair face.

I perceive with shut lids,
The rising tension of unrest.
Like a massive bubble under a pin,
Put to the rough test.

Failure and Death abounds.
Running in the fair open plain,
With a visage foul and blacken’d crowns.
Most ominous and dark, the stain!

Upon my mind’s fruitful harvest to profain.

Titilating Isolation

Nicole Dorville and i were having a little chat today, as we sat it out in the study area, brains slightly shaken by the study session ordeal at that time in the morning.

She commented that i’m actually quite pitiful (in the nice, understanding sense of the word), since every one of my closer friends are getting hooked up to each other, leaving me to rot in a rather decadent state.

I didn’t think so.

Some time ago, i might have readily agreed. Not today though. I didn’t spend 2 months of lonely pondering, all the while with a face that seemed to be calling upon every faculty of the premature ageing that it was attributed with, just to feel the same miserable, self-pity/loathing emotions rankle my soul for the next decade. Just because i’m without any form of attachment.

The rejection of these thoughts, at that moment in time, made me extremely happy.

Maybe i’m finally, even though it’s a pretty small and insignificant way, breaking the bonds of the social chains.

Or maybe i’ve finally realised that i’m a really pathetic, unattractive creature that there’s really absolutely no cause to go hoping around for something to happen.

Maybe.

But what i’m feeling now is a mixture of new emotions. A little joy with a spoonful of alienation, and a peace and self-confidence i have never before touched.

Whether it’s breaking the bonds of society, or an acceptance of futility, i’m holding on to a little piece of knowledge that’s radiating a sublime brilliance, something solid i can place my feel upon.

I’m learning to let go.

Crawling Out From the Gloom to Converse

There are good days. Then, there are bad days.

Today wasn’t good, nor was it bad. HA. Take that absolutists!

It was disappointing no doubt, but the dominant natural cycle of Life as we know it keeps it from becoming wholly despondent.

There was always frisbee. And that’s always a good thing. Frisbee. The painkiller of life, steroid of the soul. A little something betwixt Heaven’s smoky pallor and Earth’s balmy broil.

Of course the lack of work, was in some ways, a plus.

But the resultant guilt of having done next to nothing graduates from the Void of the Mind’s awareness to make it’s presence known in front of my waking eyes. It’s pretty bad.

This means a purging of sin, an erasing of guilt, is required of me.

A late-nighter, burning intellectual fuel to light the night up into a bonfire of discovery and adventure.

If only it feels as good as i just made it sound.

Me Speaks of COWARDICE.

Sometimes, it just isn’t pleasant to be aware of things.

Sometimes, it’s nice to be blind.

Sometimes, it’s nice to be a little deaf.

Cause sometimes, you meet things along the road that you’d rather not meet.

But you don’t really have a choice. Knowing unpleasant, crippling facts, and dealing with it, is part of human living. Running away, or turning aside, is a sign of cowardice and a path to dishonor. At this point in time, your presence is only desirable to people who are ‘understanding’ or ‘compassionate’. All others would probably shun you. Weakness, contrary to what the public face TELLS you about it, is still an innately undesirable aspect of humanity.

So, you’d probably still survive out there for being chicken.

But would you survive from yourself?

And if so, for how long?

We’re our own worst enemy.

Of Thunder and Lightning

Azure brilliance that lights the sable drapes.
A quickened lash across the darkened sky,
Heralding the drops of rain as large as grapes.
Prior, to the drum-roll crash, that to our ears, fly.

In the passage of Zeus’ celestial lance,
The rolling plains are revealed in a moments’ illumination.
Offering but one glance,
With an expanding eye, to vastness without degradation.

But it passes, and swiftly.
Once more, the toil of night stretches forth,
Gripping with primordial terrors the soul, firmly.
In a vice-like grip. Frothing in troth.

There are things, that abound.
Creeping and lurking in the night-woods,
Those that would twist a mind unsound.
Piercing the eyes with it’s crippling moods.

And there’s no where to run,
In flashes of heaven’d lights.