Late Night Sketches

A blog for unity

Arriving here

It pains me, dear reader, to have taken you along on my journeys without first introducing you to the circumstances which had befallen me to make such a journey necessary.

Hiding from my past is the last thing I wish to do. Putting you into a state of narrowly-opened eyes, ready for a long night's rest, is also far from my aim. You shall notice from the simple design of this website that I intend no distractions from that which is most important. Your psychology may be as such to find this simplicity a throwback to times when the internet was not the commercial center it is today. With such complicated imagery and experience available through the connecting pipes that now encircle the globe but could barely be reliable across a room in those days, we became lost. Not lost for unable to find our homes but lost for that which makes us happy.

Unleashing a monster happens every morning. From the sounds you hear as your neighbor occupies the latrine to those when the garbage man spills your carefully placed cans down the manicured street, each day carries its own misfortune. Mine on this glorious day has been minimal. A simple change of hotels precipitated by a police encounter as I requested a refund led me to this new room. I have eaten well today though. A heaping pile of cabbage and lentils. The horns outside my window will surely subside soon, just as the fireworks signalling the new calendar year ended at daybreak.

You see reader, it is not the circumstances outside of us that bring worry but those within. I want to bring your attention to your toes. When was the last time you scrubbed the stink that has gathered under your nails? It's a difficult task to reach so far but would you feel better to pay some poor sap to destroy their nasal faculties to deal with such a mess?

Although not necessary to live as taste and touch, the nose provides much useful information. How could one not admire a large specimen? A mark of intelligence and stoicism, sadly mine has but a slight variance from a ruler's edge. You are probably imagining some kind of childhood accident involving a bicycle followed by a brace over my bridge but this is not the case at all. Through persistent television watching, your eyes may turn square. Only through a constant thought to the left has my nose followed my dominant hand in distinguishing my character as one who will care for those in need of such care. So long as they ask nicely and follow my every rule, I will stare as long as I can in silence, bringing comfort as best as I know how.

You may be guessing by now that my fear of slamming doors would drive me to a place never windy, or a life only in tents where the zippered flap is nothing to fear. You would be wrong. I take refuge in the security of the door frame. When the earth shakes, it is most wise to position oneself under a skeleton of timber, should the roof collapse.

But I have lost my thoughts. This chapter was intended to explain to you how cycling through places thought to be frightening brings an internal peace. Those who seek are those most in need. Have you ever met a devoted meditator without a laundry list of nervous maladies? Or a racecar driver who did not blow past the reminders for safe sexual relations? A little flirting with danger is what's required after spending too much time indoors.

For those familiar with the practices of Euclidian zoning, I'm sorry for this review. For the rest, please be informed that I am not referencing the mathematician but instead a town in the middle of the United States, in a particular state known as Ohio. If you have never been there, don't worry. Anywhere else with such byzantine local regulations will do. It's not that our collective practices of building boxes to make our lives (and deaths) more comfortable should be handed over to lunatics unable to follow any rules, but that we have forgotten what it is that holds us together.

I can be assured that you don't remember your own birth. You may have been told about the pain you caused for hours or the gymnastic maneuvers required to extract your gooey body in a state still able to breath, you may have even watched your father's home video recording of the view opposite the birth canal. Understanding where we come from, each and every individual story, will fill your head with questions and insecurities enough to keep you from seeing who you've become for upwards of your entire lifetime.

There is no shame in staying quiet. All of the great civilizations that have come before ours are now absolutely silent. Locked up behind plastic glass, museums house the few artifacts of those that overfarmed, were taken by foreign disease, simply vanished, couldn't come up with proper sanitary systems, danced eternally in madness, etc. It is not our work to say what causes the end. We should only be concerned with the future.

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