Untitled

When that turbid time comes and it has been all it can be,
The tendrils of misrecollection embalm a withered memory.
Words can do no service as their meaning has no purchase
Upon the lights within one’s mind, only there to chase,
Which fly around out of space and time. A hand outreached
Fails, flails, and leaves behind a mind by itself impeached.

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Typewriter Ignorance

I like the typewriter sound. Lots of people say that ‘typewriter’ is the longest word you can write using on the keys of one row of the keyboard but that’s not true. Then again, no one has ever heard of the longer ones. Besides, lots of what lots of people say isn’t true. I think most of the time people don’t even realise. I’d like to believe that most people, most of the time, at least think they’re being truthful. I guess this would excuse people for being ignorant. I don’t want to do that. Each ignorant person is ignorant in their own special way. And there are different types of ignorance. There have to be different types of ignorance because everone is ignorant. There’s willingly, blissfully, and pitifully. The pitifully ignorant are those who know they are ignorant and know they can’t do anything about it. They know that know matter how much they read, how much they converse with people supposedly less ignorant, not matter how much they experience the world around them, that they will always be ignorant. It sounds bleak when I put it like that I guess but I think that’s the good kind. Blissfully ignorant isn’t so bad; it’s just a thinly veiled way of saying stupid. The willingly ignorant are the same as the pitifully ignorant but willingly and in fact, they are the pitiful ones.

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Procrastination

This needs to stop.

You only have so much time,

on this little dot.

So make it last,

and write it down,

so that something’s there,

when you are not.

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Five Very Short Stories

1. A familiar face. It means nothing now.

2. A cheer. A thud. A gasp.

3. The letter burned, never sent.

4. Music. A body. He hears not.

5. A plane engine rattles. Silence.

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Sand

He saw a universe in his hand, a universe of sand, and he let loose his grip. His final trip.

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Chained

And so I prostrate myself,
An unwilling acolyte,
My minds eye blinded,
And dreams out of sight.

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A poem for my friend, Nicole

Your shell falls to the ground,

A discarded robe, a citrus peel,

And there naked in the cold,

Lies your warm heart-core for all to hold.

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Mitosis

It’s time for a change here on Vestigial Thoughts. I’ve decided to leave this space for posts that really are my vestigial thoughts and my more personal posts and to move what’s left, mostly my writing about music to a new blog called, for now, One Little Explorer, found here. So if it was my thoughts about music that brought you here and made you subscribe then please go there! Also, if you came here for some other reason, go there too! Its good stuff! And of course, stay here and there will occasionally be something random for you to read, hopefully, with pleasure.

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A short farce of infinite meaning…

Bird: And so in short, and to put it most simply, meaning is created by the juxtaposition of form and content and content is imparted upon our utterances by celestial means mediated by the particulars to which they are entangled by means of necessary constraints contingent on contradiction between objects and particulars. While this is perhaps imprecise, to avoid verbosity, I think it is the most charming way of presenting this idea.

Moonboot: Yes, very charming, and sinfully clever, but what do you mean?

B: I mean that I cannot, in words, or any other form, mean anything.

M: Ah yes, I understand what you mean now.

B: Of course you do, I mean, I meant you to.

M: Of course you do, for I meant you to.

B: So, you meant for me to mean for you to understand my meaning?

M: I don’t see why you’re blabbering on about all this, it’s really rather simple. I mean: I meant for you to mean for me to mean for you to mean for me to mean for you to mean for me… … …to mean for you to mean for me to understand your meaning – in a nutshell.

B: But you don’t mean for me to mean for you to mean for you to mean for me to mean for you to mean for me to mean… … …for you to mean anything. You mean nothing at all! And neither do I!

M: So, if you say I mean nothing, but yourself mean nothing, then I may mean something?

B: No.

M: So yes?

B: Yes.

M: So no?

B: No.

M: Yes or no?

B: Both.

M: Both?

B: No.

M: I really wish sometimes you would just say what you mean.

B: But then I would never say anything.

M: And sometimes that is how I would wish it.

B: You would wish it if what?

M: You know what I mean.

B: Nothing?

M: There’s no such thing.

B: Precisely.

M: Well, I’m glad then that we sorted all this out.

B (wistfully): Ah yes, “this”.

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Older, Wiser…

You may have noticed that it’s been quite a while since I last posted. Almost six months by my watch. Much has happened in the intervening days, I’ve been learning and thinking lots and now I think I’m read to share again. I’m older and wiser, I hope you look forward to my posts which will be up shortly!

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