Oh but for chaos.

moved to other blog.. 3/25/09

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Utopia and Home

A friend (Lauren) is doing a project in which she is collecting people's personal definitions of utopia and home. Here's is what I passed on to her: Utopia - an impossible dream worth chasing. Home - (A bit of freewriting on this subject a year or so old) - It was good to be home. It felt great to be going somewhere with you: to be together with a single destination in mind. It wouldn't matter where we went or where stopped along the way... You were the one I wanted by me when I wanted to get away from everyone else, and when I couldn't bear to be alone.
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Walking Home.

(NOTE - I MODIFIED THIS POEM 11/13/07) Damn creative urges. Maybe once I post this bit of poetry I'll be able to concentrate on the other kind of nerdy writing. Unfortunately it definitely calls on different parts of me to write about experiencing episodic memories and writing about the science behind them. Life is good, Although I'm not as hardworking/motivated as I feel should be. But here's a poem I've been toying with on and off for the last couple weeks: Walking Home. The wind was cool I breathed you in, You felt cold but the sun shined when I loved From Halloween to Christmas memories shine In lights outside and heat within And you were there to share it I ran away, you found me out And made me a believer What we sought was simple, It was who we were apart. I just kept walking with you. From Halloween to Christmas Through falling leaves and wood smoke Lights upon the snow… It’s so strange… How you had fought for this Squandered your words On my understanding You m...
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Missing.

A bit of free-writing: It takes hold of me most often as my days close down and I begin the long walk home. I do most of my best thinking while walking, at least about these sorts of things. Perhaps it's just the Fall, although it's been there before in the summertime, but not as strong. A context with less interference: Ithaca in Autumn at sunset, and the beauty of it runs me down very quickly. It fails to take hold when there are people around me, but when they go it takes me back... to the point where I no longer seek to surround myself with other people, least of all people who don't feel like home. I guess that's what it like, I feel like I'm locked out of home with curtains drawn. There are people inside, but they can't hear me, and they don't have a sense that I am missing, and try as I might I can't open the door or find my way back. It's not my home anymore perhaps... but it's all I ever had. I feel like I've found a secret beautiful...
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