Saturday, November 9, 2013

A Poem in The Finger

Thank you to everyone at The Finger for publishing my poem 'Quiet'

Check out their website

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Rock n' Roll: An Alternative Sisypus

This is an excerpt from a longer email I wrote my good friend Chris. I thought I´d share it with anyone bored enough to stumble on this all but functional blog. Please consider 'you' you.


I came across a little philosophy today you might enjoy by Albert Camus. He detailed an allegory about the Greek myth of Sisypus. Sisypus, once king before defying Zeus, was doomed to forever roll a boulder up a steep hill but whenever coming near to the peak the boulder would roll back down starting the whole process over again. Camus equates Sisypus' lot to ours, we are created and lead a life of hardship and labor all seemingly futile and void of meaning (how often I am lacerated by questioning the meaning of it all!). Camus asks us to figure Sisypus happy (however difficult it might be to assume anyone in such a situation happy), giving a description of Sisypus' happiness and contentment coming from his scorn of Zeus. That his forever cursing of Zeus will bring about some tranquility or purpose. 

I don't like that. It rings too true to how I actually lead my life rather then how I'd ideally like to lead it.

I am not one for God though I do believe in a creator. Whether it was a omniscient being or just a randomized playing out of physical laws since the bang of a singularity (how akin God and a singularity are) my individual consciousness was forged. To believe you were created is to admit a creator. 

My rock is very tangible to me, the hill I roll it up very much under my feet and all of it I do all day to day without grandeur.

Some days I accept the idea of this world being without meaning, that our angst and dissatisfaction comes from our rationality and persistence of trying to acquired answers- absolution- where there are none. Constantly dropping the bucket down into a dry well. 

Other days the wind speaks to me and I feel it somewhere this deeper sense of being. Since I reject Camus' conclusion I must replace it with one of my own. Here is the best I have:

Sisypus rolls the boulder up the hill because he can. Because if not he then who? If Sisypus was still king, the trials and tribulations of his life would undoubtedly be greater then a simple rock roller. And what greater purpose does being king have over rolling a rock up a hill? A spot in the history books? What are history books for temporal beings? On the timeline of now since the birth of first light history are as important as facebook profiles? Why be anything but a simple kind of man? No. Sisypus should enjoy his rock rolling because it is equal to, if not better than, any alternative. 

Did you ever dig a hole as a child for no reason, just to dig a hole? Did you ever make art as an adult for no reason, just to make art. Sisypus rolls his rock the same way a child builds a sandcastle on the beach. He likes the way his body moves and conquers, for a time, the earth. He listens to the wind and feels the sun against his skin. He is unmindful of Zeus, but Zeus has nothing to do with Sisypus any long and there is no one to scorn because there is nothing to scorn for. 

I know my boulder will forever roll back down the hill, but it is my rock, no one else´s, and it is the only one I have. 

I don't know how well I did with my alternative conclusion of Camus' allegory. Optimism is a challenge for me. Leibniz says that this world, even with all its pain and suffering, is the greatest one that could have been created out of all the other worlds possible. Maybe. I think that this is the world that is, and it is the only one that will be, at least for us, so whats the point of comparing to other that might have been. 

The entire course of history, since the creation of man, since the beginning of time and space, since God came into consciousness, and since my parents breed, everything has evolved and lead to this moment: Me sitting at a computer at 5 in the morning writing a dear dear friend of mine. 

My rock isn't so bad. It is the only one I've got so there is really no basis for comparison. My roll isn't terrible either.  

You carry on, my brother. Rock 'n Roll. 

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Strung Up on the Roadside

There will be prophets,
beggar martyrs too
There will be more tolerant men then me
They'll be waiting for you
                 around corners, behind rocks
in the catacombs of your home.
They are mutant men
senseless over the shouting Gods within them 
You've seen them.
I was one of them,
as much as anyone was anything,
blinded and bound,
strung up on a gallow
a post upon the way to town
Speaking my tale to anyone below
listening or just passing by
I took your ear along with you mercy
and since, my voice has weakened
my shroud has lowered upon my eyes
there is so much more to lose alive
the Gods within me have silenced
and I tell my tale to no one.

I do not ask you to live upon the roadside.