Celestial Bodies: A Romanticizing of Ancient Light

Stripe, stripe, stripe; Morse in the headlights. “Truly Random Code“, half-dollar, lemon crème moon, Orion’s Belt aligns: Cruelly open road.

12 degrees.

It’s as if the atmosphere falls away at night in the winter. The solstice rolls around and that infinite nothingness plunges it’s fingers into the dirt. Everything’s brighter. The clouds are translucent against the moon rings. I’ll start singing songs about Space, thinking back on summer nights, “Moongod, where’s your glow?” Sometimes I’ll make myself believe that I’m the only one watching those celestial bodies creep slowly through the sky, “Maybe my new friends will invite me out to stay in their Milky Way real estate.

Alpha Centauri is the closest star to Earth at 4.37 light years, and somehow we can still see it in our sky. We’re consistently observing the past as we look into the sky, seeing light that’s been traveling billions of miles, and we greet it with indifference. I’m always looking down at a light 6 inches from my face, more worried about whether this light shows me a spark or a laugh. We used to worship and marvel at the stars but now that light is in our hands. Hollow, controllable, fragile. Sufjan said that Jupiter was the loneliest planet but I think he was wrong. Earth has inhabitants and they abuse and neglect her constantly. As Jupiter’s great Red Eye swirls about it’s surface humanity is prying the life out of the Earth and pretending she’ll be fine, or forgetting she’s even there. Just a lonely blue speck in a sea of black. “Blue, the most human color.

Sometimes I’ll make my own constellations, trace the lines of my whims and imagination. I just want to create my own lines, making the sky something new each time. Tootles lost his marbles and so did the rest of us. Not only will we not chase our own dreams, but we’ll go out of our way to make sure others don’t either. I caught a glimpse of a future I wanted, and I played it out like a romance in my head. I’ll take in every moment of an imagined self, smile at how happy that Thomas is, let my heart leap a little. But there’s always reality and others who want to take that glimmer in your eye.

It’s no wonder when I gaze out at the dipper that I pine and brood.

“Look at how small I am.”

And then I feel that loneliness too, somehow paired with connection and understanding.

“I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to be infatuated either. I don’t want to be everything to someone or to myself, just something to someone and better than yesterday. I want to be consumed by what I love and not have to worry about having my passion taken away by others. I want to be connected but I want to be alone. People are like constellations, I’ll trace those lines differently each day. I want to be able to admire the constellations I’m not a part of. We’re all just star dust anyways, right?”

Inpiration from A Lot Like Bird’s “Truly Random Code” and “Trace the Lines“, The Devil Wears Parada’s “Moongod“, Salvage My Dream’s “Alpha Centauri”, Sufjan Stevens’ “Planetarium“, and Regina Spektor’s “Blue Lips

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Aaron West, Crystal Meth, and Holiday Fractals: A Letter

Dear Loathing,

You’ve been one of my greatest friends throughout the years, suctioned to my brain like a Lamprey, swimming behind my eyes, distorting my perspective. I always knew those weren’t floaters but rather translucent snakes reminding me of how much I hate myself. Every time I rub my eyes, stand up too quick, or look at a light for too long, you’re always there.

And I wish you weren’t.

I spent years believing things couldn’t get better. From crisis to crisis you assured me it would always be this way. Behind every negative word said to me, you would echo, “They’re right, you know?”

And I always believed you.

I’m trying to get rid of you, trying to build up positivity. So when my methed-out Step-Father messages me telling me I’m a “pussy” and that I’m “not a man”, I only believe it for a little while. When I get disappointed or heart broken I only believe it’s my fault for a little while. When I’m defeated, I don’t stay there wallowing like I used to.

I went from “I’m starting to believe that there’s a God and he hates me” to believing in myself instead.

So when my brother tells me he loves me and that I’m the reason he’s still alive, I can detach that Lamprey from my Hippocampus. When my friend encourages me in my passions, it gives my brain a moment to heal. When I think about leaving this place behind, moving out to the mountains, I’m not filled with doubt or feel defeated.

It’s been a long while since I’ve had hope, and I’m afraid I’ll lose it. It’s Christmas Eve and it’s snowing, and to most this would feel magical. The sight of snow fills me with fear. That cold white dredges up so many bad memories. This holiday season has always been hard and I’ve been so disillusioned over the years. You always comes back, Loathing, and that’s why I’m afraid. Every time something negative happens I know that you’re waiting with a handful of dead sunflowers ready to spit in my face and say, “I told you so.”

I’m trying to dissociate the white of the snow with the trauma in my life. Snow is such a wonderful thing and I’m tired of feeling afraid of it. I’m tired of it reminding me of you. I’m clinging to hope that you will stay away, that I’ll have the strength to keep fighting you, and that I’ll continue to have the will to pursue a more whole me.

Sincerely,

Your Oldest Friend and Newest Enemy

Poetry: Romanticism in the Ordinary

Don’t treat me like the shores today. Can I be something more stable?  Not in pieces, thrown about by tides, crowned in seafoam.

Yeah, I’m always so beautiful when the sun sets on me. Yeah, I’m always so comfortable beneath your feet. But in the end you’ll turn again to your landlocked abode away from me.

I try to cling to any crevice I can fit. I just want to be so close to you, be with you wherever you sit. But I’m just too agitating to your pale skin, you’ll wash me away, down this drain of despair whilst you’re reading in your den.

Can I be your breath, or could I be the light? Something you can’t live without, allowing you to see the beauty in every day and night. Quite alright, the thought of being in your lungs, where I’ll hang on your every word from the tip of your tongue.

Maybe just a blanket and a bed. Providing you with comfort, shelter, safety, a place to lay your head. So precious with it’s dreams and visions, caught between REM and bliss we could kiss and laugh our day away.

I could be your foothold and get your through this climb of memories and hours we call life. We’re always expecting so much more, some adventure, some caper to whisk us away so reality isn’t as real. But love isn’t found in coves on the Gallapagos, on beaches by the coast.

Find it in someone’s eyes and find it in their hands. Find it in the way they laugh or the way they make demands. It’s in the crinkling of a nose, a freckle on the cheek, I promise you, I’ll prove it to you when we meet.

I just need a love that wants to hold hands in the sun, walk creek beds in the summer, drink a beer, take a run. I don’t want to find you in the extraordinary, that’s not where you are, it’s who you are.

So when we meet just know one thing, I will do everything in my power to let you know you’re lovely, to let you know you’re gorgeous, to let you know I’m whole.