why do i feel so bad.  pressure.  

i feel i’ll be left behind.  behind where?

so others will go on ahead?  where to?

won’t we all end up in the same damn place?  wherever that may be.

how about i just leave them ahead.  

maybe there simply is no ahead and behind.  maybe it is side to side or up and down or diagonal .

maybe locational coordinates aren’t important here.  maybe its about what, who and why one is.

what is what? some are this and some are that?

what is the difference between this and that? 

the answer to that question is; what is the difference between this and that. 

but that still doesn’t answer what what is. Its just difference. 

difference makes this and that.  difference is the what. what is the difference. 

so why is what important? because it is different.

if different was the same, then there wouldn’t be anything at all.

there would be no difference between difference and same, this and that. 

the words this and that couldn’t even be written or understood because the this would look the same as the that.

then everything would be gone.

where would it go?

no matter where it went, it would be in the same place as where it was.  there is no difference between here and there.  

so it wouldn’t go.  nothing would.  it would all be here.  and there.

behind and ahead, side to side, left and right.

its nice to think everything is the same and difference has no difference but its obviously not the case.

any argument against that would be different and the argument ends there.

so its not about the what.

is it about the who?

whos are just another kind of what.  it just happens to be that what is writing this is a who.

i’m the who in this case. 

if this who didn’t exist, there would be no what.  or at least there would be no what to this who.

is it this particular who that matters or the what.  the what exists beyond the who.  but what only matters to the who.  so once the who is gone, the what is matterless.

why.

well, everything is strange if you think about it enough.  it was strange how normal the united states was actually.  it was like real life, and traveling was a dream.  but that’s how the u.s. felt when i was abroad, like a dream.  all very strange…

I quietly stare out of the driver’s side window in the backseat of the car I’ve been traveling in for the last couple of hours.  Three out of four of us in the car are engaged in a conversation that has been going on since we started driving.  I happen to be excluded from this one.  Its not because of lack of interest or that the others don’t want me in on it, its simply a communication barrier in the form of the portugese language.  Although it would be nice to understand what is going on, I’m secretly glad I don’t.  It’s like a free ticket to just be able to look out of the window and think.  In other circumstances I would be considered rude or be perceived as feeling forlorn to just shut myself off from the rest and silently gaze at the passing countryside.  I feel neither forlorn nor rude, I’m more than content to be, in a way, alone for some time.

I normally enjoy conversations with strangers and might never cease to be surprised by how much I can learn  from them but it is nice to have a break once in a while.  I have been having conversation after conversation in different strangers’ cars with different strangers across western Europe for the last week. My girlfriend and I set off from Berlin, Germany, hitchhiked across France and Spain and are in our last car now before we reach Lisboa, Portugal.  

Its a nice feeling reaching goals.  During the process of reaching a goal, I have to build a big epic picture of what reaching the goal is going to be like to push me through those uncertain times.  After a goal has already been reached, I have to build a big epic picture of what reaching the goal was like to inspire myself to be able to reach the next goal.  But right now I can simply experience this moment like I do every other moment in life. It is a pleasant moment; I’m in the backseat of a car, driving down a highway, sitting beside someone I love and am alive and well.  I feel mixed emotions of relief, accomplishment and fear as I sometimes do.  

About an hour has passed and we are finally reaching this temporary Mecca.  We pull up to a bridge that is one of the biggest I’ve seen in my life crossing over either a very wide river or an inlet into the Atlantic ocean separating us from the picturesque skyline of Lisboa silhouetted against the setting sun behind it.  The “we did it” feeling kicks in in earnest as I actually lay my eyes on the desired destination.  I hope that feeling is powerful enough to give me the strength to figure out where we are going to sleep tonight and where we will get food.  

I travel as frugally as possible at this point in my life.  Not because I don’t have any money, or because I want to experiment with how cheap I can possibly travel but because of priorities.  Its as simple as; less money spent while traveling, more travel time.  I’ve been gone from home for about two years now, a good year and a half longer than I had budgeted for based on advice from others and projections of what costs would be.  I learned almost instantly when I arrived here in Europe that i had greatly miscalculated what was necessary to spend.  I thought I was thinking cheap by considering hostels, a eurorail pass and buying food in supermarkets.  Over time though, I perfected a system or a way of being that has sustained me much longer than I had imagined.  

So how have I come from Berlin, Germany to Lisboa, Portugal over the last week (3,000 km) without spending a dime?  It is not about tricks or tips but more about a mentality.  I simply made a decision that the experiences I get from traveling are higher on my list of priorities than the comforts and security that money can guarantee.  To be clear, I value comfort and security and there is definitely a certain level of discomfort and insecurity that I will not cross willingly.  That being said though, I find that the deeper purpose and meaning that comes along with comfort and security just couldn’t hold a candle to other things on my priority list so they consequently got cut down in the budget literally and figuratively.  So with this mentality, I naturally developed skills, learned tricks and tips to save money while traveling for the overall purpose of enriching my life.

I suppose it would be unfair to simply say that having a certain mentality is enough to  save money without revealing the tricks, but my point is that the mentality is more important than the tricks since the tricks won’t work without the mentality.  So, in the spirit of sharing I will break it down simply.  There are three main expenses when it comes to traveling; 1.) Transportation.  2.) Accommodation.  3.) Provisions.  Everything else is secondary and although important, not necessary.  You need to sleep, you need to eat and it wouldn’t be traveling unless you are being transported somehow.  Transportation: hitchhiking; asking people who are already going a certain way if you can come along. its free, its fun, you meet people, you see often more interesting things than by train, bus or plane, it provides more freedom and not only is it possible but its practical in terms of speed, flexibility, safety and ease.  Accommodation: there are different options. Tent; while on the road it is easy to find a place to set up a tent and sleep as long as weather permits.  People’s homes; while hitchhiking, people will often invite you to stay in their homes especially if they know you are planning on pitching a tent.  People met on the streets will also invite you into their homes if you are willing to ask.  Couchsurfing and other online free accommodation communities; requesting a place to stay for a night or a week via online requests and local events is a great way to meet locals, save money and experience unique things that hostels couldn’t provide.  Provisions: ask and you shall receive, look and you shall find, be open and you shall be pleasantly surprised; Going to restaurants, gas stations or grocery stores and simply asking for food that would be thrown out anyway.  ”Dumpster Diving”; finding 100 chocolate croissants that were outdated by a day or two but still perfectly good.  Be open to people’s generosity; people love to help, it fulfills them, don’t be afraid to receive, know that your time will come to help others as well and anyway the inspiration you give to them by sharing your story of travel is often worth more to them than the money for the food they purchase, don’t undervalue inspiration.  

By the time we cross the bridge and get into town it is dark and about 8 or 9pm.  Our drivers wish us good luck in portuguese and drop us off near a central looking train station called Gare d’Oriente.  After getting our packs together I realized my phone was left in the car and I surprisingly don’t mind, I see it as a blessing in an odd way.  We know nobody here.  It is both of our first times in this place.  We are both excited to have made it and are looking forward to the last few days we will spend with each other in this new place before we separate.  First, we must figure out a plan to get something to eat, then to find a place to sleep; inner cities are a much different game than hitchhiking on the road.  There is more opportunity for good to happen as well as bad.  We tighten up our packs and walk into the city to figure it out one step at a time…

Sometimes I like to sort of take a step outside myself and look at me from an outside point of view.  Its fun and easy to do.  Its a quick way to simulate an out-of-body experience.  Plus it helps me to cope when times are tough as well as to appreciate when times are overwhelmingly good, and everything in between. 

I’m tired tonight but its hard to sleep.  My mind is racing but my body feels fatigued and worn.  I’m not hungry, nor am I full.  My body is a bit confused since I haven’t been able to relieve my bowels for about a week now.  I want to sleep.  I know I can but just not in this upright chair.  Its about 3:00am.  I’m on a boat, a fairly large boat; maybe there are three or four hundred fellow passengers on board.  The majority of the passengers look different than me, come from a completely different background, share different beliefs, different values.  As much as I would love to say the opposite, I don’t feel connected to them.  I’m the foreigner if there can be such a thing on a boat in the ocean.

Women with their heads covered up have been passing by my chair every once in a while, leading their children on middle-of-the-night restroom excursions, or taming their crying babies.  It seems that I’m not the only one with sleep trouble; we are literally all on the same boat.  I’ve been watching some of the men laying their prayer rugs down wherever available space is to be found in the aisles to meet their five-prayer-a-day quota.  I wonder if they know its already 3:00am so its technically the next day.  Are they getting an early start for tomorrow? Will their God care if they didn’t meet their quota?  I want to believe that they are just praying because they feel inspiredto connect with Him rather than aimlessly following tradition as I have found that so many from my own culture tend to do unfortunately. 

Many others are watching an American Movie on of the few overhead T.V.s overdubbed in Arabic.  Right now the “Golden Compass” is on; a movie I actually am interested in watching but unfortunately and ironically I don’t speak a lick of Arabic.  A movie would be a nice escape from my racing thoughts and mixed feelings of relief and anxiety…

I instead resort to my imagination which is my loyal companion no matter where I a am.  I imagine being my five-year-old self.  What would i have thought of me being in this picture?  Would I have believed it? Would I necessarily want to be here?  All I can really conclude is that life is funny and can be interesting, especially when following a dream.The dream I’m referring to had its seed planted about two years ago during a very inspired state of mind.  At the time of the planting, the soil was as fertile as it could be for dream to be planted in.  I was experienceing the sense of accomplishment and elation that came with the final budding of a flower that had been planted fours years prior.

 So I guess it starts there, when I was about sixteen years old.  Its funny to think that my thoughts and actions as a 16 year old have, in a round about way, brought me to this curious setting of being the foreigner on an old rickety boat, slowly making its way over the Atlantic in the middle of the night. Well, a couple of friends and I came up with this idea in high school that when we graduate , we would ride bikes from our hometown, Whittier California, to San Francisco (about 600 miles).  When I look back on it now, it seems so easy; all you need is a bike, some time and motivation.  Of course there is a lot more to it like money for food, luggage racks, tents, sleeping bags, a route, etc.. But it is a pretty straight forward, tangible and attainable plan.  But to a 16-year-old  who knows of nobody personally who has done something of the sort, it seems pretty intimidating, especially when most people I shared my plan with brushed it off as a pipe dream.  My problem was that I listened to them for too long instead of focusing on the cultivation of the dream itself.

 Eventually I  built up enough courage to finally undertake the endeavor with two other compadres by the time I was 20 which would have seemed ancient to my 16-year-old self.  So in March of 2008, 3 years overdue, the three of us whipped together equipment; borrowed bikes, made make-shift saddlebags with cardboard and two-dollar sport bags from Pic-N-Save, borrowed a tent, sleeping bags, talked to bike shop employees about routes, got work off for less time than we hoped but just enough to make it, and set off at about 3:00am with little sleep due to last minute preparations into the cold and intimidating night with mixed feelings of relief and anxiety.  Relief because we had actually completed the hardest part of the journey by taking that first pedal towards San Francisco.  Anxiety because we weren’t sure if we would be able to handle it as we were not avid riders, hadn’t trained, had recently found out that we would be fighting the wind the entire way and we had a very limited time.  In other words, there is no garauntee as we pedal into the unknown.

I’m feeling a very similar feeling of relief and anxiety now as I fidget around in my chair and watch the finishing credits of a movie that had seemed quite intersting but lost my chance in really seeing.  I could see it again one day but it won’t be the same now that I’ve already seen most of the images.  The surprise factor is what makes a movie moving right? Even if they’re movies we’ve seen over and over, we get reminded of that initial surprise.  Or maybe what makes it moving is that we subconsciously imagine being in the movie, or the events of the movie happening in our very own lives.  We imagine finding a love as perfect as the one on screen.  What it would be like if we were in battle, having an evil spirit haunting us, putting ourselves in the shoes of others, in other worlds, other times, other situations.  Stepping out of what is known, our own lives as we know them, and into the unknown.  Its more than just the surprise factor, its the infinite depth of the unknown. 

That must be why we’re moved.  Moved from our lives and virtually placed into another’s.  Movement in the end is the all-important force that brings life to us humans and the world.  Think about even the brain for a minute; its only purpose is ultimately for movement. There are, of course, the obvious functions the brain executes for moving body parts and such, but even memory, imagination, emotions are, in the end, just used for affecting future decisions, or future movements. 

As my train of thought fades away and I become conscious once more of the deep vibration of my chair as my temporary home slowly moves across the atlantic through this night. I’m reminded of where I just was and where I’m going to.  That leads me to be reminded of that mixed feeling of relief and anxiety I’m feeling at this moment as well.  Relief because I’ve completed the hardest step of bringing this dream into fruition by actually taking the first step among others to make it this far.  Anxiety because I’ve actually made it this far and there is no garauntee as this boat chugs along into the unknown.

Its funny how the same thing can be perceived and felt in two completely different ways.  Its not only funny, but can be frustrating among other things.  Of these other things though, the way I prefer to see this ambiguity in life is that it is beautiful, but more importantly: liberating.  I’ve often heard of life compared to a river, you know, going with the flow, not fighting the current and all that.  But that is too black and white for me, either going with or against the flow, one direction or the other, correct or incorrect, right or wrong.  I see life more like sailing in an ocean.  You can go virtually in any direction you desire.  But of course, there are conditions that you must adapt to like wind and current.  We can’t control where the wind blows, but we can control where it blows us.  It might mean that for some time we’d have to tack back and forth and go against it in a zig zag pattern but we are still harnessing its energy and ultimately ending up in whichever direction we set out for. 

Thinking of this analogy helps me in a way to sort of mentally adapt to the situation I’m presently in and it gives me control over whether I want to focus on being anxious, which steadily grows into fear when fed enough, or on relief, which steadily grows into courage.  I’ve been reading about sailing lately and there is a nice quote that reminds me of this thought: “The pessimist complains about the wind, the optimist expects it to change and the realist adjust the sails.”-William Arthur Ward

I fall asleep eventually despite the uncomfort of this upright and rigid armchair of a bed.  Possibly triggered by this quote and my thoughts on the analogy of sailing and life, I lapse into a dream that has reoccured multiple times in my life since I was a kid:  It is night time, it must not be too long after twilight becuase the sky still has an ever so faint hint of blue in it that is only detectable because of the contrast in silouhettes that are cast against it.  The sillouhettes are of me, gazing up into the starry sky, along with the mast, sail and other parts of the boat i’m gazing from.  There is something about the colors in the picture that simultaneously excite and soothe my soul.  Its not so much an entire dream as a scene.  An out of context scene of a parallel or perhaps future life I’m living.  I don’t know exactly what I’m doing out on the ocean, which ocean it is and why I’m even on a  boat in the first place but I can describe the feeling I feel while there.  It’s an inspired feeling.  I feel like I’m on an adventure of some importance and that my whole life has come down to this very moment.  I guess every moment should be like that though except for that it usually doesn’t work out that way.  We’ve got a lot on our minds; where we need to be, what happened yesterday, our wordly concerns.  I feel that in this scene/dream I manage to focus on what I’m doing in the moment, whether that is navigating or pondering life and yet be free from those thoughts.  It’s a beautiful feeling and it brings me peace just to day dream about it, let alone night dream. 

My peaceful dream ceases and I’m awoken by a general stir in the boat.  Fellow passengers are gathering things, packing bags and rolling up prayer rugs that will later that day be unrolled again and layed down on ground foreign to them.  The majority of thse passangers  come from Morocco, where this boat departed from.  They haven’t become foreigners quite yet.  We are still over water where there are no natives or foreigners.  For the time being we are just simply where we are. 

I get up and wait in line with all the busy men who want to get their duties done and finish getting ready to disembark our uncomfortable home we’ve shared the past 10 hours or so.  Due to the chaos of hurried people I don’t even want to attempt a bowel movement since I will hold up the line and my efforts will mostly likely be in vain in any case. 

Not surprisingly, as I walk out onto the side walkway of the boat I find that most of these people have jumped the gun and are preparing for a disembarkment that probably won’t take place for another hour or so judging from the distance of the harbor and the speed of the boat.  However, I’m very glad to now have some time to scope out the place in which  I will be taking on the most challenging part of my journey.  Although there are no sign of any sailboats out on the water nor is there any sign of the marina in which they would reside, I’m still excited to see this industrial part of the harbor where our boat is pulling into. 

I love the beauty of industrial city scape type of settings.  I can’t help but to think that this industrial harbor is just as natural as a fjord in scandinavia or a tropical cove in the caribbean.  It is only human nature to strive to survive.  Isn’t every invention just an extension of our survival?  First we invent what we need, then we invent what we think we need.  The thought process which brings us there is very natural as it is thought of by means of the brain naturally given to us at birth.  But it is true that the same brain can be used in several different ways based on what the mind wills.  But why does one mind desire to will one thing while a different mind desires to will another?  These desires must root from a mixture of the environment in which we have been exposed to, and any genetically passed down innate trait thus compiling our personalities.  Either way, these desires come from very natural sources filtered through a natural brain and brought manifest by the movements of our bodies controlled by that brain.  Just as I can be amazed at the uniqueness of a snowflake, the power of mother nature, the beauty found in every natural thing, I’m simply in awe at the intracacies and imagined history of the harbor here at Las Palmas on the island of Gran Canaria.

It must be about 6 or 7 am and the sun hasn’t quite peeked out from the mountains who command the island from its center, in a way keeping watch on the many still-sleeping citizens.  It also keeps watch on all the early birds who have already awoken to jointly fill the flow of traffic on the highway which runs along the coast. I come from the huge metropolis called Southern California and seeing this view laden with well-paved roads filled with modern cars dotted by billboard advertisements brings me back after just leaving the barren Sahara Desert.  The comfort I feel from seeing a somewhat familar view mixes in with the intimidation that this view carries with it.  This is really where I’m going to find out if the seed I had planted two years ago will flourish or whither. 

I am reminded again of the dream I just awoke from seeing the harbor and looking in vain for sailboats.  This scene must have really made a strong impression on me over the years because in the temporary peak from the surge of inspiration I received after completing my bike trip to San Francisco I heard myself declaring that I wished to sail across an ocean.  I didn’t say when, which ocean, nor did I have any idea of how I would actually go about doing such a thing.  I just felt strongly about wanting to do it. 

I remember feeling how far off that dream seemed even in my state of inspiration.  I figured I’d be in my thirties at least, have to be rich or know someone rich who owns a boat, have taken courses in sailing, live in a harbor town for a while etc. before I could attempt something of the sort.  I have hitherto accompished none of these pre-requisites, yet here I am at age 22, the only sailing experience received from reading half of a book on sailing and the plan is that I will be sailing out of this very harbor that my temporary floating home is now slowly arriving at.

While I was swept away in thought the sun had finally gained the courage to peak out over the mountains and make clear the view of Las Palmas and its morning bustle.  The ship is pretty close and I go back inside to pack up, half wishing that we were not close to arrival yet.  Sometimes I would just love if time stood still until I felt ready for it to start back up again.  But although I may feel like that at certain times, now being one of them, I’ll admit that I’m glad it is not that way or else this boat would never arrive.  I have a love/hate relationship with the fact that time still rolls along indifferent to my human worldly concerns.  It challenges me to face situations that I would forever postpone had I all the time in the world.  Lack of infinite time, at least for us humans and in this lifetime (if others may exist), is the blessing in disguise that is the impetus for many of our actions.  If the lack of it didn’t exist then my feelings of intimadition and fear would not allow me to step off this boat let alone have boarded it in the first place. 

After the busy single-file departure from the spanish owned ferry, I finally set foot on the island which I fear so deeply and yet am relieved to finally have reached.  I take note of the streets, signs, people and ambiance that I hopefully will not get to know too well as I wish to depart from here as soon as possible.  I would have never come here if it didn’t happen to be the biggest sailboat harbor for boats sailing across the atlantic from Europe to the Americas.  I am embarrasingly admit to myself that I’m so focused on my goal now that I am actually on the island that I am, in a way, indifferent to everything around me that doesn’t have an influence on that goal, such as the history, culture and people of the island.  Little do I know now that my narrow search of a boat will prove to be much more than just checking off another goal on the bucket list as I take my first walk down the oceanside road which leads to the sailing marina.  A walk that will be the setting for many moments of life pondering, stark changes in emotion and friendly conversations with future friends.  Although my loyal friend Imagination is still with me on this first walk, I forget about him in my haste towards the harbor and thus my today self cannot fathom what my future self could experience on the days that will come walking down this and other roads here on the island…

James Brown once said that “its a man’s world, but it ain’t nothin’ without a woman.”

I love doing what I love to do but often don’t actually know why.  Do I do all these things in hopes to ultimately find a mate by means of impression?  I can’t really look to my fellow man for answers because he is on the same boat as me.  He, in fact, encourages me, either directly or indirectly,  to do what I need to do to find that mate.  Does the fact that I do things subconsciously to extend my existence by means of sowing my seeds take away from the genuineness of it?  What is genuine in the end anyway?  

This song is just an observation and a muse rather than a piece of advice to myself and others.  Answers to these questions may differ, and reactions to those may differ yet further.  Its fun to think about…

“Menace”

Each night as I sleep, a little lady whispers to me and deviously penetrates my dreams, mischievously dictating me to carry out her trivial deeds by beautifully beguiling. 

And readily, I most always heed, in hopes to breed my own seed, and it keeps my warm blood pumping too.

To attain a life eternally although aware it may not be, but still enough to keep on breathing.

Sprouting seeds seems silly, seeing who secretly sowed these, namely this damn lady.

Who is she?

 And is this why she wants me?

When I wake from these dreams there is a man standing over me nodding his head approvingly.

“What you heard is no mistake.  Take what you’ve learned while you’re awake; Its meant for you and your own sake too.’”

I live out my life day to day not knowing why I do or say the things that make my unclear faith remain.

For in my waking state, my dreams and I, they separate letting this lady overtake MY FATE.”

songs downloadable at www.soundcloud.com/paraic-king

zapataphoto:

This past Saturday, I had the pleasure of spending my afternoon with an old friend that I hadn’t seen in over 3 and a half years. Pork invited me into his bedroom/studio to hear what he’s been working on lately and I got the chance to get some work done as well. Since I’ve been home, I haven’t really created anything or put anything together that I’m really happy with and I found some inspiration both from Pork’s music and a small contest on Vimeo.

The contest was simple: create a multi media photo essay (all stills) with any non fiction subject matter. When I got the call from Pork, I knew exactly what I was going to do.

It was great to be a part of his environment and observe his creative process. I found a lot of inspiration in his work ethic as well as from his music. It was a great experience to have us both occupying the same space creating work that we love and believe in.

Anyhow, here’s the piece that I put together for Vimeo’s Weekend Project contest (wish me luck). I’m also working on another one for myself that will include video as well.

Also, if you haven’t started following/listening, get up on that!

Paraic on Soundcloud, tumblr & twitter

Some Days

 As opposed to my previous beliefs, I now find trial and error to be a much more efficient and expressive way to manifest ideas, instead of having the “perfect” idea perfectly thought out and executed.

My passion for producing unfortunately and inevitably evolves into and exigency to produce more, out of fear of losing something I hold onto so dearly. So then, instead of feeling the freedom and lightness that each new day and experience should bring, I feel its weight and pressure.  

This song is about curing oneself of the weight of over-thinking  by taking its antidote; over-doing.  I’ve spent too many days frozen stiff in my room with my guitar or piano trying ,in vain, to think up some amazing idea for a song or piece when I could have been playing whatever felt good at the time and then filtered out whatever I may not have liked afterwards.  This mentality definitely transcends music, art or even creativity in general.  To be able to decide will greatly affect and even determine one’s path on this planet. 

“Some days just don’t feel right…

my body’s outside and my head is still stuck in the night.

And then some days, they seem far too bright…

for my dark train of thought, who’s blinded by the tunnel exit’s light.

And in some ways that is alright… I’ve been shown…

I feel thrown off when an offering is being thrown at me by this puzzlin’ life

the more its put together, the more I wish I didn’t know.

Don’t ever over think over over do

Don’t you ever over think over over do

For what you do will creep up on you and it might change your view

from an old to new quicker than if you  were to merely muse.

So don’t you ever over think over over do.

Don’t you ever, ever, ever.

I’ve had enough of this head who stays in bed.

Life’s tough enough without havin’ to drag all this dead weight lead.

Now here I am and its one of those days again I’ve just described,

when nothin’ seems to be goin’ the way it was pre-prescribed.

Strange days to curiously contemplate

as life just rolls along, as life just rolls along.

So when these days come as no surprise my head moves along and remains in the presence in which it belongs.

Pupils retract to normal size and I keep my eyes wide to take in the world I will take on.

So don’t ever over think over over do.

Don’t you ever, ever, ever, ever, ever…”

song downloadable at

www.soundcloud.com/paraic-king

just some poems throughout my life, normally not knowing who the poet was.

Due to the conditions of their situation, they (mainly the speaker) cannot bear opening their hearts fully.  For they both know that the wider they open their hearts, the more pain they will let in, as they are deliberately separated by different worlds.

appreciate the commentary.

Eye to I

The other night I was riding my bike home from work and had a nice experience at the best part of the stretch .  Its a 45 minute ride mostly uphill and I was on the last 3 minutes or so of the ride with a nice easy downhill slope in front of me.  It felt great to have finished work, be over the main hump of the journey and be about to enjoy a well-deserved rest.  The lighting from the street lamps gave a calming feeling as I coasted with just the sound of wind rushing by at a moderate speed down this safe suburban road.  I looked down one of the side roads and saw a couple holding each other in the dim light. I wanted to stop and watch them but I settled with slowing down ever so slightly as to not be made obvious that I was observing them and therefore ruin their perceived privacy.  Maybe it represented love that I felt for someone, or maybe it was simply just beautiful to see, but it touched something in me nonetheless.

The feeling of watching them in those perfect circumstances was so pleasant that I wanted to draw it out.  I feel like life is like that so often, we want to hold on to “perfect” moments or chapters in our life.  It is a fear of the fleeting present moment.  Rather than simply enjoying what happens whenever and for however long it happens, we want to manipulate those moments to be preserved forever, in fear that a moment so good may never come again.  This magical feeling that we get from time to time was once described to me by someone as agitating and inducing restlessness.  Its a pity to spend nice moments on fearing that another one may not come…

“since we can’t face being face, you say its not worth a try to see things eye to eye

and when I do give a shot, it’s you to you you hear

I’ve got my crosshair on the dot, exit wound ear to ear

we go toe to toe from time to time but I know you know;

our own time is prime so I hope you’re fine being alone.

I wish we could be side to side, but we’d have to hide what we can’t bear.

 I’m not aiming for your heart with my shots; I do still care

slow reading

cherishing the best won’t change the ending

you’re resting on what we’ve built

but there’s no stopping when your world’s falling

now I shall step aside to not collide your mind which has denied our broken ties

still got your eye on mine while mine’s on I

you’re slow reading

but cherishing the best won’t change the ending 

you’re resting on what we’ve built 

but there’s no stopping when your world’s falling”

drums by Alex Samayoa

song downloadable on www.soundcloud.com/paraicking