Relative Something

Pursuant to the lack of guidelines set forth in the reasoning by the party in the first part for bothering to write down a series of words in a stream of conscious mode for no reason other than the seemingly valueless exercise of manipulating fingers on keys while the mind wanders aimlessly in the direction that can only logically be described as no direction at all with respect to the idea of having a point, there comes a time when doing so simply becomes an end unto itself. Far be it from me to shy away from the harsh light of intellectual curiosity which renders the urge to avoid any association with acts deemed mindless, in pursuit of the almighty reason for breaking things down
into more bite-size bits
no less cryptic
although maybe less
drastic
hardly fantastic
teasing along
like a favorite song
fragments of hints
memory-like glints
reasons for following
the words down a path
around underground
as if through a looking-glass
one that mirrors a soul
with a newfangled feature
like the future should hold
that tells a hard truth
we don’t want to unfold
it’s why we all hide
or collapse in the grasp
of rambling run-on sentences with nary a subject with which we can latch for tracking the topic that never seems to arrive with a pleasing dispatch that rewards our incredible diligence for having the strength to hold on all the way to the end in hope something will bring with it that warm fuzzy feeling like a hug from a friend who we are happy to see in spite of all else and we forget for a moment that the reason is not clear for forgiving ourselves and we let down our guard and just let it all be, while we pause for a moment, and smile from our hearts toward whomever we see.

“Just write,” I was told. So, write is what I did.

Sometimes, I just ramble on and on about things that don’t even make much sense to me. One standard instruction to writing students is, “Write what you know.” Maybe that is why I write things I don’t understand. I know all too well about how little I really know.

Usually, my writing is something of a composition of sounds that form in my head. Songs, without the music. Prose.

Trying to navigate the plethora of trivial minutiae that presents itself at a steady, heady pace on a daily basis amid the unending onslaught of news being reported about the scale of unimaginably real calamity that has befallen our fellow humans after a devastating earthquake that was bad enough on its own, yet amped up beyond comprehension by a tsunami that, as time passes, is at risk of being diminished in significance by an unprecedented nuclear event that is threatening to live up to the worst case scenario that brilliant minds have been warning about since the time this dangerous science of monkeying with radioactive substances became harnessed to create electric power that enables the manufacture and use of uncountable options for plugging in devices to occupy our attention and complicate the simplest of tasks by transforming them into increasingly bizarre rituals of detaching ourselves from the real world and bringing on a mind-numbing amount of new trivial minutiae that mysteriously becomes the master of our precariously fractured attention span which makes it difficult to mentally process what the people are currently suffering while all around us are nuisance ailments and ridiculous inconveniences mixing in with usual responsibilities of remembering to put the trash out or turning the lights off at a decent hour in order to get a healthy night’s sleep in order to carry out our little morsel of responsibility to society, since we can’t just give up and stop living because the people in Japan have been warned to stay inside their homes to avoid exposure to radiation, even though they don’t have a home to go into because a giant wall of water obliterated everything in sight and they are living a stone age existence without the convenience of plugging in their hair dryers or plying their skills of virtual bowling on their Wii and instead are wandering around in search of living relatives in a way that exposes how important family must truly be at a time when there is nothing to plug in and no where to plug it in and no power available even if you did plug it in the way we do in places where disaster has yet to strike and life goes on as if nothing so extraordinary is likely to happen as long as we navigate the plethora of trivial minutiae that presents itself at a steady, heady pace on a daily basis…

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