Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Crack, swish

Coming up on the driveway you swing your legs over the back of your bike to walk up, only to almost fall over because you legs are slightly numb from riding so long. As you make this drunken sort of stumble you see your reflection in this old rusty cars window. You then stop and think about the car. The memories of that car. Its a nice little car; tires completely flat, the inside filled with amateur radio gear and such. You focus back on your refection again. Your hairs is doing some weird thing where its slightly greasy and stringy from being blown in the wind. You kinda dig how it looks. You look at your hands, purple and roughly bruised from slamming your palm against glass bottles to watch the air pressure make them explode. They have this weird shadow to them; your hands, they are littered with dirt off the handlebars. Its a crappy bike it really is. But crappy old things have a sense of indierockness, and you enjoy that. Its frustrating trying to put the bike back in the over crowded junk-filled garage, so you just throw it in, quickly shut the door, and listen to the sounds that are being made by the bike now falling over onto other items. You lean on the shitty old car and just think. Is it really doing anything? Are you really distracting yourself? Does the physical strain really stray your mind other thoughts? What exactly are you trying not to think about? 

You enjoy aesthetics, and there is something very very aesthetically pleasing about imploding bottles. The glass brakes, a crack quickly climbs up the bottle until it connects with itself, then the broken part falls, faster then the liquid inside. It hits the ground, shatters more, and then the liquid falls onto it and makes this sort of waterfall sound. It all happens because of scientific reason, and it all happens in seconds. 

Crack, swish. 

Back to the real world, a small child is walking toward you. He is in third grade. He moved into the house next to yours a few years back. He comes over to you and says "hi." You say "hi" back, then sit on the rocky slop that separates your two houses and you try to hold the kids attention, talking about school and his shoes. He asks you lots of question, as expected from a third grader. "Why are you outside?" "Why did you ride that bike?" "Do you have an ipod?" he wants an ipod, a shuffle to be exact. He knows this one girl who is selling one, its purple. He doesn't care though, He just wants to put Lil' Wayne on it. He goes inside, you are still sitting on the slop. A single ear bud is in you right ear and barley ringing louder then you surroundings you can hear Bishop Allen, the song The News From Your Bed. You're tired, take a deep breath stretch out a bit, then start thinking more. This little boy just changed you're entire thought proses, he was very focused on the now. Why do we think so much? Its dumb. That whole mentality of just living life, taking things as they come. That's a load of shit. Who is solely focused on the present and never wanders back to the past, pulls up old emotion, old memories? Maybe there is someone. Wherever that person or people are, they are lucky. 

You think about sitting on the porch for a while and just playing Hey Jude over and over again on your harmonic. Drops of water start hitting your nose and tickle it as they then hope off again. Its wet, no harmonica. In the front door you see the flight of stairs you have to walk to get to your room. You make it, and plop down on the bed. Maybe that whole at never looking back, taking life as it comes way of thinking is something you should try and accomplish. You are only half on the bed, but you don't want to move. Your eyes start to wonder around the room, you see lots of random items that have accumulated on your shelf over time. They each have a memory to go with. Your eyes hit this box. A box neatly tucked on a shelf next to a pair of shoes, bible, and DVD. When you see it something hits you, like if you got punched in the chest while exhaling. There must be a spot in the middle, between wishing for the past, and only living in the present. A spot where when you think of happy memories you don't become sad because they are no more. That's how things were, you cant get them back, so why focus on how much it sucks that they are gone. But don't stop remembering them, don't eliminate the memories. 

That's what you need to strive for, this place where you think of good memories, but don't live in them. Live in the now, focus on what matters now. But do not forget, never forget. May you cherish and learn from the past, and may you make the most of the present.

You sit up now. You feel content. You look at you're palms, time to go find a bottle.