Comets and stars: reflections from above

 But I am constant as the northern star, of whose true-fix'd and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament. - Cassius

i'm an essay. An intro, a plot, punchline, lesson, and conclusion. With every blink i start a new paragraph, every slumber a new death. My dreams are pregnant with being. The alarm clocks, or car horn molds my birth and i live. i am a post-moderate character, i see things in the 3rd person. We are embedded in multiplex consciousness, i see bilingually.

It is currently 3:22 am. i just got back from a mountain where i watched a meteor shower. i only saw a single shooting star, but it wasn't a fake one. Our minds’ were tricking all of us on that summit, a star was spotted every couple seconds. Forty minutes into the night, i thought to have seen two comets, until a true one zipped right through the bottom half of Orion's foot.

It was easy to make-up shooting stars before actually seeing one. Our perception of stars stretched like canvas across skin and bone. Whether it be from a concept, a hostile idea or criticism, it is hard to acknowledge beauty until it dances in front of you.

i like to think i have a certain knack for the ascetics of criticism and critiques. However, those are all outward perspectives, gazes from others' eyes. The criticism of myself epicenters through my contradictions.

There are a many thoughts drifting through my head. i bend my ideas continually and break axioms regularly. Strike that, i contradict axioms regularly.

Immersing myself in can collecting and a green mindset has incited a shift of my character on this certain stage.

Honestly, i get bored with the story. Not because i am disinterested in the individuals i meet during the labor, rather, i just don't believe it, and i never truly have.

Me? I’m dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It’s the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly… stupid.- Jack Sparrow

i'm a balanced person. i will argue for whatever side will invoke the most interesting situation. Yet we all have certain reluctancies when it comes to fully acting a particular character.

Insinuation can only be so subtle, so why prolong the obtuse?

One attempts to be mindful of trash, but our world beyond redemption. There is no cleaning the place, no way to save the earth, and no way to save the people on it. Its just a roller coaster now, a nice hunk of missing rail by the third summit and a bus of passengers convinced the track is still there.

Go, go, go said the bird: human kind cannot bear very much reality. - T.S.Eliot

i walked around Albany at 7:00 am Saturday morning, you know how it looked? Like dystopia, a wasteland. Trash scattered everywhere across Ontario Street, heaps of bottles and plastic are cluttered in front of doorways. This world isn't getting better. Maybe we haven't hit rock bottom, but everyone can see there's no safety-net above the stone.

i remember one homeless man in an electric wheelchair who circles round my block for cigarettes. i don't smoke, so i sympathetically apologize, wish him a good day, whatever. i've had exchanges with him about seven times. The other day, i'm in the middle of that war zone i mentioned earlier and he comes zipping down the street. i greet him:

"Hey buddy, how ya doing?"

The guy drives right by me. He didn't make eye contact, he didn't nod his heard, he didn't acknowledge any-freaking-aspect of my physical existence which was standing directly in front of him.

i'm like Cassius, i have conviction and i have resolve. When presenting myself from a thought context other than my own, i am rounded and optimistic. But as Cassius taken in context becomes a conspiring serpent, when my eyes see a meteor shower, i'll see 4 times the tails as anyone else.

The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, they are all fire and every one doth shine. - Cassius