Song. No Music.

A LIFE WORTH LIVING

Here is a bearing that I’ve not seen;
Sky laden in blue and land of green.
Only in dreaming had I humbled to,
for my eyes refused to follow through.
And I say hey, now where am I?
And I shout out into the sky.

My life is worth living,
my dreams, worth achieving.
Nothing can take that from me.

Here is a feeling that I’ve not sensed;
A freedom within, un-caged, un-fenced
Only the meaning is hidden from me,
for my hands cannot fully believe.
And I say hey, now where am I?
And I shout out into the sky.

Chorus

Here is a whisper, which I’ve not heed;
Soft spirits voicing a quiet plead.
Follow the vision you constantly see,
For your faith unused will stifle thee.
And I say hey, now where am I?
And I shout out into the sky.

Chorus

Trusting the bearing of which I’ve seen,
I breathe in the blue, devour green.
Anxious, uneasy, I alter my stride
for my life deserves a sense of pride.
And I say hey, now here am I.
And I shout out into the sky.

Chorus


© Blair A Pettyjohn
November 18, 2005

Sorrowful Weight

I’m sorry. I apologize. I didn’t mean to... these are phrases that we’ve all uttered, heard, accepted and rejected. Do people really understand what an apology means?

More often than not, the words "I didn’t mean to" spew from the lips of unlamented repent as a sort of after-the-fact prophylactic. "I thought I could get away with it" would be more apropos, but we seem to stray from self incrimination to holiday in the warmth of verbal brilliance.

"I’m sorry" is so overused and mistreated that it’s become a follicle of involuntary oral spatter, heaved haphazardly upon the recipients of our misfortune. "I apologize" is the elder brother in the family of sorrow, usually spoken with more deliberate tonality, yet its meaning dissipates just as quickly.

I feel that most of the time, words of sorrow are put out on display to shop for our own happiness. We find it easier to belly up with a hot, steamy, expressive cup of mourn to soften the edges score, than to actually consider the consequences ahead of time.

We should regard, learn from and be held accountable for our actions. If apology is warranted; if expression stems the hearth of sincerity; we should not repeat those actions. If you’re mentally challenged, you have a reprieve, for your cognitive skills just plumb won’t get it. If you’re a fully functional faculty member of the world, there’s not a lot of room for excuse.

This will pin me as a poster boy on the self congratulatory soap-box, but I’ll admit when I’ve been an ass, an idiot or your average run-of-the-mill f-stick. I want to learn from my mistakes. I prefer not to hurt those around me, yet I realize that I will from time to time and when I offer remorse, I need to respect the forgiveness that I might be offered.

If someone glosses your pain with a few words of regret, ask yourself if they really mean it. Follow their actions to see if this behavior repeats itself. We are all worth the respect of others and others are worthy of our respect.

My optimist outlook believes that we as humans have the ability to change and better ourselves; I truly hope that when my time wanes from the light of day that I can look back and be proud of the path I have taken. I’m sorry if you find this offensive... just not a lot.

Hey Tim! New Song...

Ad Libitum

it seemed so long, long ago
i just stopped breathing
i didn’t know
where i was destined to be
no consignation
beckoning me
... so silently.

i seemed to float, float away
i lost my balance
roads were now clay
begging to form from the view
one inclination
courting the few
... breathing anew.

Chorus:
whoa! this finally stings
blindingly brilliant
deafening things I feel
... tell me it’s real

turn off the fight, peer toward
chests there, inhaling
an allayed chord
A piacere; sing the song
reclaim the voices
they’ll sing along
... just carry on.


© Blair A Pettyjohn
November 18, 2005

Dusky Stink Bugs

Euschistus Tristigmus; Stink bugs feed on a whole bunch of plants, injure seeds and transmit the yeast-spot disease organism. They also make your eyes water as they trot past your cubicle, airline seat or just plumb anywhere you happen to be; this is the Human Stink Bug (Euschistus Humana).

What is it with the perfume people? Recently I was struck by ‘ship-bottle-for-a-shower-boy’ and found myself gasping desperately for some unaffected air. There’s a reason those bottles have a real tiny hole and it is not to elongate the application process. If Dior, Fendi, Lancôme or Calvin Klein intended you to multi-coat, they would have supplied a brush.

One ounce of Jean Patou ‘Joy’ is roughly $400. Seven ounces of Aqua Velva can be had for $5.89 and I’m fairly sure that if you buy a Conair Nose & Ear Hair Trimmer for another eight bucks you can get free shipping. Spending less does not equate to applying more.

I doubt very highly that a woman coming back form the corner shop on Via Rodeo and Dayton is going to lather up with an undercoat of ‘Joy’; she might be a white-trash lamprey on the stem of Mr. Hollywood but her sense of posh includes an understanding of the fine print; “Use in small amounts” (this paragraph is not intended on slamming women - I just thought that it would be a successful lead in).

Guys; less is more. That $5.89 you spent on perfume shouldn’t be used as an acid-dip, it’s meant to enhance your aroma. If you stink – take a shower. Using two bucks per application is not going to hook the woman of your dreams. They’ll most likely say that same thing that I do; “Oh my Christ... who stinks?”

This isn’t a gender specific rant; both sexes commit the olfactory faupax on a regular basis but I find the frequency tuned more often to the football wanna-bees, splashing their man-stuff with neon-like accuracy.

In this recent reference of being struck by the ship-scent, a hope-to-be breeder was installing some add-ons to a cubicle nearby and ‘whoosh!’ right into mine came the introduction. I didn’t want to meet this guy, much less sniff him on a constant basis. I had to go; it was making me sick, and so instead of making a big stink (pun) I headed downstairs and did some reading while the half-life decay began.

I must go now – so in closing... SMALL AMOUNTS! Just because you can’t smell it, doesn’t mean that no one else can.

Horoscopes

I get my horoscope delivered via email every day; I’m not a devotee to its mythical delight, more of an apathetical onlooker awaiting forecasts that fit my needy little soul of skepticism. The planetary alignments, forecasting my age of truth and reason appear misinterpreted most of the time and that in itself finds me a disbeliever to its potential factory of inner peace.

"If you are single, you could be thinking about special places you would like to visit with a new soul mate."

This is a little confusing. Did I already have a soul mate? What's up with the 'new' soul mate? I was fairly sure that my understanding of the whole 'soul mate' situation was spot on and yet I am now confronted by doubt. I believed that a certain 'one-ity' existed between me and someone else and with any luck, we'd meet in an alleyway of life somewhere between harmony and bliss and forge the bond of true love and be very merry and stuff.

This whole ‘soul mate’ thing is beginning to sound a little like a grand façade. If I need to think about a ‘special’ place to visit with my ‘new’ soul mate, then that means at a minimum, I’ve already had one; perhaps I’ve had two or three or maybe someone was a half-of-a-soul mate for me, sort of like the appetizer for the others to come.

There are an estimated 281,421,906 people living in the USA (April1, 2000 Census). This means that today, roughly 23,451,825 point 5 Aquarians are getting this same advice... that’s the whole state of Texas! Holy smokes!

Why do I even read these carpet bombings of belief? Well... I ask myself this from time to time and I always arrive at the same conclusion; hope. Now and then a horoscope foretells something that I truly want to believe, or at least something I can identify with. I tamper with the idea of soul mate packaging periodically and the idea of having another end to this raveled yarn is rather comforting. Perhaps I need only begin to knit.

Saka mon chewie bon!

Probably best described as “WTF”, my previous entries were cut short by an inability to firmly grasp what the heck I was thinking. I’m not quite sure what I’m thinking right now, but I’m a little fed up with not putting anything down in writing and so I shall begin with this;

Saka mon chewie bon!

What does this mean? Hell, I don’t know. I was just responding to a letter from a friend of mine, thanking me for being an extra in a film she was working on and I wrote the following;

"Would I always be a security guard or party go-er though? I really want to be one of those citizens running from Godzilla sometime – getting my scream on with a horrified look on my face and saying things like “he’s gonna kill us!” or “What is that thing?” or “Saka mon chewie bon!” just because I would be true to life like with the whole ‘I’m-so-scared-I-can’t-even-talk-right’ thing going on and people would probably say that I was real convincing and that’s what made them get real jumpy like when the monster came on screen… I think it would be good if I got stepped on then too because that would really solidify the fear."

I hopped out of the shower this morning with less than dry wit (mostly because I was still damp) and suddenly remembered those four little non-words. I began to repeat them in all sorts of ‘my-tongue’ and got a little giddy; not in a school girl sort of way but in a ‘knocked senseless’ and mentally deficient way.

At the very least – little weird-ities such as this can really place the mind on the right side of the bed… correct side of the bed… let’s just say “proper path to pleasantness” because frankly the whole ‘side-of-the-bed’ thing is a little restrictive, especially if you wake up in the middle and then what are you supposed to say? “I woke up on the right middle of the bed?” I don’t think so. It just sounds stupid.

So as I gather my thoughts and if anyone reads this... Saka mon chewie bon!