Felt like fall this morning, just a bit. So, the windows were all raised when I returned to the crypt, after another graveyard shift. Hoping, that some of the demons and malevolent spirits lingering about might find their exit. To go be free. Curse lifted, and such. Or at least go bother someone else, for a while.

Only one demon left.

The one sitting at the keyboard. As day fades into night, yet again. With the air of early autumn, cool upon the skin, and simply singing crickets growing more numerous as the light grows less. The last hollers of another summer faded. Maybe, just as it needs to. Or maybe just for me. Maybe some of you wish this summer would never end. But I could use to change in the leaves, or something like that. An outward symbol as an excuse for some sort of internal molting that never seems to cease.

Been trying at that soul searching business. Not the kind that involves exotic locations, or exciting social events and captions such ‘living my best life’, and similar such bullshit.

This brand, my kind, the real kind for yours truly- looks more like the end of a muckrake after a day being used in congested housing for livestock. Far less glamour. Far more necessary. Need to keep from infections and such going about, as oft I am unintentionally known to do. There is no tollfree number for you to call, but I would like to personal apologize on behalf of all of us here at Veracious Façade Enterprises for any damages.

But anyway, on to new business.

There’s a line in a song that I’ve been listening to a lot lately. And pondering upon quite heavily.

‘Spent a long time living life, without belonging to it.’

Great line. Great act. Nice folks. Ask me about them, and I’ll gladly tell you.

But the line has been resonating these last few weeks. Something that made a tremendous impact, you know, one of those lines that make worlds of sense even upon the first-time hearing, reading it, etc. So, let’s play around with it a bit, shall we?

I suppose the idea of a long time has to be somewhat relative, but if the relativity at play is the average human life expectancy, then I suppose I’ve been at it for a while. I’d like to think there is plenty left, but not being a betting man, I try not to take that too much for granted. That said, there is plenty of path now behind me. Events and experiences, people and places and possibilities both engaged, interacted with and some, long gone.

And when thinking of this life of mine thus far, I cannot help but wonder about how much of it I have squandered. And how much of that has caused waste in the lives of others. Never intentionally, but intentions only matter so much sometimes. Hurt is hurt, and pain is pain. Some damage done, scarring in perpetuity. And some, only seeming that way.

As much as I know, I know that I know so little. And still after all this time, I regularly seem to insist upon, if not a painful one, a difficult learning process, for myself and plenty of others caught in my wake. Though, I know that it is not always the case. Still the moments where it is tends to stand easier at the forefront. A bully among the preoccupying thoughts.

Yet, still, I learn from them. Never making the same mistake twice… well, maybe sometimes there is some repetition. But eventually, I’ll learn. But this might all just be me negotiating my ego death down to manslaughter.

So, what have I been learning?

I suppose the area I am weakest, oh so often to catastrophic consequence, would have to be in the realm of emotion. Part of me wants to cut myself some slack, and another part will never allow that. Too often, I shift between extremes on that spectrum while feeding into the lesser parts of my being. It pays dividends when the passions are purposeful and pious. But it also costs dearly when on the self-serving and narcissistic side of things.

Even in the very approach, I can too easily tend towards extremism. Either open up far too much, bleeding out all over the furthest reaches of my proximity, or, numbness to sensation as complete as possible.

Or maybe this is all in my head. But so is everything.

It has been an effort, and one I will likely never be done with, but I’ve been working on acceptance. I know, cliché as fuck. Super gross. But, it is true and it is important. Especially when it comes to the dissatisfaction of the state of things. Denial would do me no further justice and only become more damning down the road. Within my own life, heart and mind, etc. And in the world around me, which I still, quite madly, feel a responsibility towards.

So, am I doing great? Well, I’ve been reading Kafka, so no, probably not. But knowing that matters. Ignorance would, and has, only exasperated any and everything.

Am I doing better? I think so. A bit more, each day, even after a colossally devastating few weeks, year, decade, life, etc.

About a week ago, I sat by a window, breathing in the heavy city summer air, listening to the elevated subway line, thinking about who I was, am, and still might be. It was a day spent feeding into the better parts of my life as opposed to the various mental prisons I’ve been shuffling myself between. And with that, I’ve been realizing that despite the limitations that there are in my life, and there are plenty enough and they are quite real, that I still need to engage in a life that feels honest to who I know myself to be. In the words and deeds that make me feel full and true, with the people that I care for and love, especially those that may have fallen to the wayside.

I admit, much like where I grew up, where I live now does not feel like home. Not quite. But that doesn’t need to be the sentencing that I’ve been thinking it is. Because I have found home in many places. In people and pursuits that don’t deny what my instinct and nature know myself to be. It cannot be a constant quest, I am too heavily o0bligated for such freedoms. But it cannot be ignored either. And when it cannot be sought outwardly, the work must continue inward. Lest we lash out and cause damage externally in bouts of rage or emotional ineptitude.

Of course, I am being a bit theatrical. But not entirely.  

I suppose this one turned out to be a bit more self-clinical than I’d like, but maybe it needed to be.

There’s a guy I work with. Great guy, total maniac. He has this thing, on his phone. It’s a death clock. He input some information about his lifestyle and demographics and such into it, and it calculates how much time he’s got left, approximately, barring chaotic accident. He says it’s the sort of thing that insurance companies use, to save money on your mortal soul and stuff.

According to this program, he’s got seventeen Christmases left.

What a concept, huh? Just counting down the time until your demise. And to be fair, that guy has had some hard living. But what a horrible pandora’s box to invite into your life, right? Such a thing I could see so easily turning into a mental prison. The ticking clock of your own demise. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Don’t believe I’ll be downloading that one.

Though, that doesn’t make the concept any less real. Finite time for each individual sentience. Here until you’re not. So it goes.

So, while I’m here, might as well try at some good. For myself, for others. It will fail, it always does. But failures must be got through. Treated as doors as opposed to walls. Even when locked, there is always a way through, if you have the tools, or the right kind of gusto.

Hell, even if it is a wall, you can get through those. Just have to make sure you don’t bring the ceiling down upon your head in the attempt.

But anyway.

That’ll do for now. Other business, for the evening, if you don’t mind. Keep trying to build a better guy at the helm of this perspective, even while dripping blood from the latest falls and faults. Should heal, eventually. And if not, learn to live with it, we must. For as long as we can, at least.

Another line from the earlier mentioned tune. Again, fitting well for this aging fool of a dreamer, still trying to find hope without imploding or exploding, or some combination thereafter.

‘And there is still a dream, even if they aren’t what they used to be.’

Life is about being able to change. Admittance of wrongs and absences is part of that, for sure. But so is seeing all that is still there, and perhaps, that which has still yet to be seen. Been around long enough to know that finding something when you aren’t looking can be incredible potent, though not always how you might initially perceive. And a bit of time, and a bit of effort can do a lot to make positive change. Even if that change is trying to keep some truer self from being drowned in all this life.

Then again, what the hell do I know?