afternoon leaf formations

matches wishes he had song lyrics to convey his thoughts and feelings. but situations are so much more complex; what if nobody has ever been in precisely the same configuration of events and existence that m is in now? if you want to filter it down, sift out the details, and be left with large, generalized lumps and thumps...then perhaps. but the intricacies are the difference between he and anyone else; they matter~ he wants to hear new words. human themes are larger than atomic....we are more, somehow, than the sum total of our parts. and that allows a lot of room for confusion.
he will, perhaps, scribble down his own lyrics someday. it will be like a cushy, comfortable couch that has had all the ages to adapt exactly to his shape and subtle nuances. he will fit snugly within the words, and they, him.

it is when you feel that you fit perfectly within the world that life is beyond extraordinary. all existence becomes an extension of you, and not in an egocentric or selfish way. hopefully. you are, and everything else is, and you are flush, together, like bread and butter, or swiss clockwork gears, or what have you. life is easy, and if not effortless, at least melodious. actions become lazy and yet attuned and alert, like the droning motions of a fly who snaps around in right-angled foursquare movement. have you seen those flies? matches has. always to the left, they fly.
these things become easier to reflect upon when you are no longer in them. funny, that.

one of matches' favorite affirmations of life is to seam himself into a crowd, and then try to explode his consciousness into it, imagining all the far reaches of those people's lives. can you imagine the snow-flurry of your own life, all in one go? the intricacy of the flakes? can you imagine how everyone else has just as much density in their own lives? how rich with experience are these spaces which we walk through...it's like having taste-buds instead of skin, and wading through an oversized creme-brulee. there have to be more than four dimensions.

on that note, might it be said that matches finds creme-brulee every bit as rewarding as ice fishing, but without all the hassle of freezing temperatures and disappointing yields.

then there are these moments of sublimity where all the distinctions are brushed aside (they will come back, pendulous), and unity prevails. this is kind of like the fitting-in-the-world thing. where then are our neuroses, our concerns and cares? how out of our mind are they...like all notions of business-casual at your son's little-league game. how brimming with something simpler, something important; some adhesive that tugs us back together even when we think we are at a breaking point. we have something very special to offer up to the universe, to existence, to any god, and it doesn't require anything more of you than being yourself. the problem is that its walls are so papery, it's just as simple to barrel through all the way, breaking out the other side, and not even have noticed the transition. it is a subtle warmth...half-imagined and half-there. there are many impostors, and we have come to be guarded, to second-guess.
o the fool~
that you may astound us all~

"if there's one thing that tells me that everything's gonna be okay, it's a whole lot of people dancing at the same time."
~ jesse k.