"Luv U boy..."  via text message.  Maybe years, decades, centuries or eons from now that would be considered classical and compared to Shakespeare writing his sonnets.  Maybe our words will be shorted to monosyllabic grunts, minimizing vowels and/or phonetics, as necessary to communicate with the ever advancing need in speed and technology.  

Tonight, I text'd him "Luv U boy...", casually, and I know he felt me.  Slightly stunned, heart skipping a beat?  I guess, because mine did as I punched away @ the keys of my cell phone.  I am the first to say it even it if isn't exactly saying it. 

We are continuously transcending ourselves.  We adapt our behaviors, emotions, our spirits...  with that of our creations.  Perhaps we do become God.  The idea of God being us light years from now looking back at ourselves in our primitive beginnings when we were discovering, exploring and ultimately answering and creating the universe...  

Oh, the humility.  For me to think we be Gods.  And yet, stranger, crazier things have been suggested to me already.  I have heard simple men boast themselves to be God having found the divine living within them.  And who am I to tell them no.  Who am I to disagree upon the journey of another.  

I wish to remain here, wondering...  Human.  Adapting to text speech letting my self free on a lit screen responding to my chosen pieces of the alphabet to let the man I am pursuing this wonderment that I "Luv U boy..."

"I'm a Buddhist.  It will come to me."

I found myself saying this this evening to someone very significant in my life.  We were in exchange re:career and love.  I just didn't understand that we were talking re:my own sense of totality.  My kindness, my fears, limitations that I possibly may put upon myself...

I further replied that I am first generation immigrant.  It wasn't just my grandparents or parents who immigrated here.  I myself have immigrated here from a foreign third world country.  I have seen the poverty.  I have seen children and women beaten by men acceptably.  I know what I'm fighting.  I am very aware of my rage and where it stems from.  I am a man and all I've know most of my life in a male dominated culture is the oppression that men put on themselves, their women and their children either ignorantly or intentionaly.  

May I be saved because even as I am writing this I feel the quickening of my own heart.  I am Buddhist.  It will come to me.  My salvation.  May I be patient, kind, charitable, empathic and able to nurture my own self above all.  

I feel beaten by my own inspiration at times.  I fill quickly with tears.  At times I have it in me to keep them from further filling past the lids of my own eyes.  In the times they fall past, I am not further enraged, I am not further weakened or strengthened at the realization that it is all me that is falling down, falling free...  

Free.

"My heart is as open as the sky."

"Know the peace that wants nothing."

I am human and I relish.  

I met this boy and he had a little bit of an attitude.  And everyone loves it.  Including me.

To which I replied- This boy that I like likes me.  Or do I like him because he likes me?

Dear Diary?
Dear Me.
Dear Heavens.
Am I content to be discontented?
There is a pit of misery that falls so deeply no echo can escape.
The dark so saturated it rises.
I am no Van Gogh.
I am no Picasso.
Da Vincci less so.
My soul is nameless.
Cry, boy. Cry.
Not from joy.
Not from inspiration or defeat.
Release. Release. The insanity will create the clearing.
This could go on forever.
There is no bracing myself.
The tumultuous toil will turn me into a ravenous feat of insanity.
Maybe there I will be home.
Call me insane. I have called myself so.
Call me insane and my soul may no longer be nameless.

The Rise N Shine

I went on a date with a cowboy last night. Very put together and proper. Domesticated. Cute. Exciting, but lacking the crazy that I'm so familiar with. To my knowledge @ least. I've thought it before & I thought it with him, would I ever be so situated, with one person, or with even myself? He seemed very content. His relationships are very non-conflicted. And by choice. He even said that if it's going to be a conflict, it usually never comes up in conversation.

His home was meticulously littered with photographs of his family and random trinkets of his history. Makes it very nostalgic, even for a stranger. I admire him very much. He is a success in a lot of aspects.

We had coffee & everything after we woke this morning. Very white picket fence.

Altered Igo

There is no telling, it seems.  It feels like it all just happens.  The variables remain variables and we are all changing.  

It's the quiet that should be minded.  

Stillness can be a warning.  

The quiet that prey understand to be the hush of a hunter.  Stay still, and you are vulnerable.  Flee, and you are still vulnerable.   

ASTRONAUT

I've been calling this my dark period for a while.   It crossed my mind last night, when this period I last called dark, that it feels like it has only gotten darker.  Cold.  Empty.  Dead.  

The darkness can feel vastly infinite.  Like outer space.  It's bursts of exploding suns and meteorically traveling planets of rock.  

I bet there is a correlation to meditation and drugs.  The turning of one's mind into the darkness of outer space.  A darkness so vast that it is limitless.  Uncontained.