vita sans ojos

You're Gonna Carry That Weight A Long Time

2009-12-31T22:30:00.000-08:00

I'm not optimistic by any stretch of the imagination, but even one such as I can close my eyes and appreciate the passing of one year into the next.

Something about a new beginning. Or at least the perception of such. In truth every moment is a new beginning, but this particular moment is one that we can celebrate as a human community. For what it's worth.

Happy New Year. I hope 2010 brings you a piece of what you are looking for in this life.

"You will see light in the darkness
You will make some sense of this
You will see joy in this sadness
You will find this love you miss"

-The Police
"Secret Journey" from Ghost In The Machine

Asleep (Eulogy)

2007-10-21T21:45:00.000-07:00

The static endpoints of existence: the first to celebrate the becoming of existence, the other to remove the presence of that life and leave a vacancy in the universe where once a child played, a dog ran, breezy autumn days, moments of terror or joy.

How to bear the look on the face of the dying, the ravaging pain and hopelessness, yet the kernal of something else within as well, a sense of serenity and acceptance. How to bear the knowledge, that the look she gives you before her end is one of absolute gratitude in the face of darkness, that she chose these last moments to tell you 'thank you for being my brother; thank you for being my mother, my friend, thank you for my life and the joy and pain I feel and have felt for all of my days...' How do the living suffer the dying and the foreknowledge of our own withering lives?

In the midst of pain and fear and the uncertainity of certain death and all I could see in her face was that gratitude, yet all the while I try to look away from death, in my weakness, in my shame. Death will force you to look, as it forced me. Her eyes in dying were peaceful; her eyes in death were peaceful. My heart shook with grief and, much later, with tears of relief.

The intersection of lives seems a random and simple thing and the connections we make tend to echo forward and backward, the lives we create together, accepting the painful and the blissful in one bittersweet sundae which we devour slowly, savouring this wonderful and terrible thing, this consciousness, this existence.

Sleep and be comforted in the arms of the universe, like a child again against the bosom of a mother, so much like a child again. Sleep well, my friend.

For Missy
1991-2007

voidthought: to die, to sleep. what dreams may come...such dreams...

vita sans ojos

2006-12-13T21:16:00.000-08:00

In the passages of my imagination and the recognition of futures yet to come, I have seen such possibilities which I find frightening and humbling and now, as I collect and retain the years of age, I begin to take seriously my own fragile existence.

Never before have I considered these paths. Is this the youthful invincibility of which the old-folks speak of? The idea that I have never before considered that I might be susceptible to serious illness and disability? That I might not stay in this young-man's form for the rest of my life?

It was never death for me; the concept of my own death has never frightened me. On the contrary, death has often been a dear, long-awaited friend. What frightens me is life so altered from the present consciousness I know now.

It came to me in a vision: the notion of blindness in the middle of my life, after having known sight for so long. What would I do, who would I be, to be struck blind in this life after taking for granted such vivid colours and shades? What would be my actions to deal with this affliction, to whom would I run?

In my heart I fear that I would push away all that I loved in an effort to spare others such pain. In that same breath I know I could never survive alone in such desperate condition; I am by far too weak. I have handled some hard knocks from life, but there are breaking limits.

I find it a serious paradox, one that I am reluctant to study. Still, my reluctance won't stop time; I will suffer, I will be disabled in certain ways, I will need help to survive. This is human. It's just never been my forte, to accept this.

-Duncan

Brush with Life

2006-05-12T23:53:00.000-07:00

'It was the strangest feeling, something I had never felt before. For the first time in my life, for a brief moment, I felt true longing to be a father. What set it off was the image in my mind of new parents bringing their infant son home for the first time to a place he had never seen before; it would be this place that the infant would begin his life and from which much of his essence, his emotions and memories, his very being, would be created. Each year the infant grows and each year the parents seem to relive, now with the advantage of experience, the power of childhood. Christmas boxes strewn across the floor, birthday parties and friends and playgrounds at schools, the infant grows into a child, a teenager, then finally a man, and the parents would look upon him and say to him, “You came forth from us, you will go forth from us, and we are proud.” And in that vision my heart swelled as a father, swelled with pure love and pride for the infant child, now a man before his parents, who had been created from such simple and complex ingredients as love and biology. In that moment, it seemed miraculous.'

Godspeed, my new friend.

-Duncan

Friday voidthought: Hold fast to innocence...hold fast for as long as you can.

Rustle of Spring

2006-03-20T18:29:00.000-08:00

So passes Father Winter, so passes life and death and memory. We welcome our Mistress Spring and her Consort Summer for these next moments in our life, welcome the feel of warm sun on our faces, serotonin serenity.

Could feel her today; her arrival was that of a nervous bride escorted by her father. The world was frosted at first, but soon gave way to warmth, to her dazzling smile. I worship you, lay prostate at your feet. I celebrate your embrace and hold your face to kiss gently. I know you will soon be gone, but for this time you are mine, you are ours, you belong to those who realize you.

My eyes are closed but open. My heart is full and empty. The seasons change and I breathe in, breathe out. And smile.

-Duncan

monday voidthought: That sunlight should inspire such strange and optimistic verse!

King of the World [c=sqrt(e/m)]

2005-05-28T22:40:00.000-07:00

A simple scene, rest mass to energy:

Looking out the window now, just another day with the radio blaring in the background, smile on face. Just another day with ten seconds to live, just another day.

Is that something moving across the sky? Is that something to see in the corner of the eye? Is that the vehicle of light?

Maybe four seconds now. Hold still.
Mind clear. Grinning.
Eyes opened for the…
Bright flash, blinding. Can’t see anything. Maybe a second to live.

Everything to energy; rest mass to energy; mass to energy. The same, the same, all the same. An eternal grin, now. The world bathed in radiance, radioactive radiance just for a moment. All consciousness ceases. A blinding light to give way to ash and cloud. But only few remain to witness it.

The radio ceases, silent. Now, the end of all things.

-Duncan

saturday voidthought: fear needs no formulae

Solipsistic Singularity

2005-04-23T23:15:00.000-07:00

I want to be seven years old again and play in the decayed broken fields of the ancient cities, like a child of the dark ages running along a parched Roman aquaduct, the stones of civilization strewn in the background. I want to skip along the graves of Cicero and Bismarck, stumble into the ancient barrows of Lenin and Washington. Eyes open wide even in the face and the direct smell of death, I'd find my path out into daylight knowing I had touched something deeper than myself.

I want to see the devastated landscapes and the myrid possibilities of the rubble of long collapsed skyscrapers and overgrown highways. I want to see the world one thousand years after the fall and two thousand years before the rebirth.

I want to know the freedom of complete destruction.

-Duncan

sunday voidthought: memory will fade until nothing remains

Doctor! I can't feel my synergy!

2005-03-17T18:09:00.000-08:00

I'm part Irish so I don't need to wear any fucking green, thanks much.

Many of my ancestors must have hailed from that impoverished, emerald isle and I won't feel guilty enjoying a fine irish brew tonight in memory of Saint Patrick, that crazy old wizard. Slainte, Patrick!

Oh, and crazy of crazies, there seem to be different types of Guinness! Who knew??

So, with all that out of the way, back to this business of drinking heavily. Salve to you all!

-Duncan

thursday voidthought:

Concerning Breakfast

2005-02-26T10:23:00.000-08:00

I just turned on the coffee machine and can hear its unique rhythm as the percolation process (and gods, what a process) continues. I am going to drink one metric acre of coffee this morning and I don't think there is any power in the 'verse that can stop me.

I've already had a good head start, three cups or so for breakfast at the Harvester this morning, along with a really good ham&egg breakfast.

For me, there is certain beauty in morning breakfast on a day of rest, slowly waking the mind into full awareness, sitting quietly in a booth either alone or with a friend; staring out the window into a fog adorned city and watching the people walk by. The four or five minutes after the food is gone and the plates are cleared and you take your final sips of coffee, that is when you truly feel your mind come alive, listening to the hum of conversation around you, watching the city, feeling full of life and empty of thought.

Caffeine enlightenment, techno-meditation; the city beckons with its own rhythm. Don't forget to tip your waitress well, she was nice to you.

This is my own addendum to the blue/shower religion; good breakfast and coffee. Hundreds and hundreds of english litres of coffee. Of course, that is really more of an addiction than a religion, but word on the street is that I can quit at any time.

And the word on the street: that's gold.

Time to refill my cup, for it no longer overfloweth with beautiful tasty 100% purely caffeinated coffee (TM).

saturday voidthought: Everyday is Like Sunday

-Words go here-

2005-02-21T21:46:00.000-08:00

Here's to the most god-awful ugly blog on the web! I salute my own ugliness!

Sláinte!

-Duncan