Our lives end in cir­cles. They begin in hard points that con­join and twist them­selves into squares. Life starts off dif­fi­cult, but sim­ple. It starts off with no chance in the world, but the world a square of land in a cir­cle of blue.

Then, oh then, it starts to repeat. As it repeats, it soft­ens. You learn the dance by heart, but the music is mute. You’re heart skips with the tempo, and your brain vibrates to the tune.

You live, but you con­trol nothing.

As you learn his­tory repeats itself, it leads you to exam­ine your his­tory. Doesn’t it? There comes a point in your life (anyone’s, I guess) where you real­ize that up until this point you’ve been use­less and, after this point (repeat­ing until death), you will con­tinue to be useless.

What you decide to do with this knowl­edge makes you great, or it makes you nothing.

This isn’t funny. I’m not sure if it’s sad. It’s pen­sive, and I hope you take time to think about what it means. I was draw­ing today. Lacey came up to DSU (what else would you do on a Fri­day night?) and one of the things the three of us did was make posters. I drew; Lacey col­ored; Jeff placed on the wall.

This sounds silly to saw out loud, but this is my method to art. The method is this : I do what I’m told. When I type, the words put them­selves onto paper. There are lots of ways I could explain, but I guess the best one is to say that I’m a ves­sel. I am a chan­nel for some­thing else. I am an instru­ment of someone.

The same goes for draw­ing mostly. The bet­ter stuff is done through (though many would argue that none of it is good stuff). Any way, that makes it hard for me to explain my art, but I can even­tu­ally come up with what it means if you give me a sec.

Did you ever “feel” bugs on your skin and then there was noth­ing there?
Did you ever “see” some­thing on your mon­i­tor and then there was noth­ing there?

Have you ever had a moment where you could do any­thing. Let me explain. I was in those crappy, low-budget, once-a-school-year, grade school pro­duc­tions put on by a group of gyp­sies with scripts and tshirts. This par­tic­u­lar inci­dent hap­pened when I was in sev­enth grade. On the final night we were giv­ing this girl in the grade ahead of me a ride back to her house. Before the vehi­cle left the park­ing lot, as we waited for my mother, this girl and I chat­ted. Sud­denly a strange feel­ing came over me. It was akin to being drowsy very quickly. I felt like I was out­side of myself. Maybe not phys­i­cally, but my mind was sud­denly in a dif­fer­ent place. It was like I was thrust into a dream.

In dreams you can do any­thing. My mind told me this as I sat there. I thought, “I could just reach out and kiss her now. I can do any­thing right now. This feels just like a dream…” but before any sort of action the feel­ing waned away.

Has this ever hap­pened to you? I am going to call this a “kiss­dream” (because the first thing I thought to do was kiss the girl) and maybe it’s some­thing that other peo­ple have expe­ri­enced. I have had sev­eral more kiss­dreams since then. They scare me deeply. I never real­ize that I’ve expe­ri­enced one until it’s leav­ing, and it is then that I real­ize that I was very close to doing quite unnat­ural things that could ruin my life or others.

I’m tired. I’m spent. And I think that I pissed Lacey off when she was here. So I’m going to bed.