Finding My Own Destiny

I’ve been guilty of many things in my life. I have lied, cheated, stole, all in the same day sometimes. One thing though, that I’ve always tried to keep my hands clean of was buying into hype. But as hard as I’ve tried, there have been a few occasions that I have fallen prey to that specific temptation.

The surest way to pull me into hype is bold promises of adventure. Vivid paintings of space epics and conflict of the grandest sort will hook me and pull me under. This is what Destiny did to me. It was impressive with how quickly they sold me on their 10 year vision. Especially when you consider the fact that I was actually pretty late to the party. The first I had heard of Destiny was in a recap video for the E3 prior to the game’s release. All it took was those few months to convince me to drop my money down day 1.

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I Don’t Think I Can Do It Again

I don’t think I will ever go to another Third Eye Blind concert. Not because the night I spent in Chicago listening to them was a bad experience mind you, it was exactly the opposite actually. The few hours I spent soaking up the Lake Michigan breeze and absorbing the heat from the others in the crowd were magical, in the way only music in the summer can be. The reason I can’t see myself attending another show is because I simply won’t have anything to offer in return the way I did that night. Continue reading

Lessons From A Main Street Café- Orange Juice

It’s been awhile since I’ve had the time to sit and languish in the safety of a café. In fact, it’s been even longer since I’ve been to that old place where I first wrote one of these essays. Granted that has more to do with a series of ownership changes and a particularly devastating kitchen fire than time management. The other day though, I managed to crawl my way into a variation of my old haven. But I wasn’t alone.

My girlfriend had decided to join me as I lazily enjoyed my breakfast in the warmth of another person’s establishment. I want to emphasize the warmth aspect of the café we found ourselves in. because to be blunt, it’s been a wicked winter this year. The wind has blown hard and frigid and the only snow we’ve received is just the amount needed to make things stark rather than clean and fresh. The harshness of the cold has been made even more real by the fact that my furnace has chosen that it simply couldn’t continue living, if living meant experiencing one more Wisconsin January. I can appreciate that, although I don’t think I would’ve taken the same drastic approach to escape the sub-zero weather, a warm café is enough for me.

There wasn’t much to be said about walking into the café, our path to our booth was that of steadfast determination and singular desire. There was no time for letting the room wrap around us as those sorts of country restaurants deserve. In a strange change of pace, I didn’t order coffee. Instead I opted for a tall glass of orange juice, just as my girlfriend had done. In another strange change of pace for me, I was not in a search for inspiration. My eyes weren’t cast out hoping to latch onto some revelation about the universe hidden in the scratches of the well worn tables. The thoughts of my new journal and its thirsty pages or this blog were lost among the blustering banshee winds outside. It was just my girlfriend, me, and two glasses of orange juice. That’s when I noticed we were both wearing our jackets.

Now let me explain. The fact that we were wearing our jackets wasn’t the most important thing about the moment. It was simply what took me by the hand and pulled me to what I needed to see that day. I was preparing to make a silly comment about the fact that our winter gear was still wrapped around our bodies when I saw my girlfriend sitting there, her nose red as the blood came back to her face. Her cheeks flushed with the touch of newfound heat. See, I need you all to understand something. I’ve seen this woman in ever state of dress and undress there can be and by far she was wearing more clothes the other day than I had seen her in in years. Yet, she was more beautiful there, wrapped in her jacket and hat than in any moments when there was nothing at all covering her.

I tried to figure out why in that tick of the clock, in that particular café, with two glasses of orange juice, and the promise of greasy food, she looked so beautiful to me. It dawned on me that it was the cold, the unyielding bastard that had been haunting us for months. We had both been assaulted by the lack of degrees and in a moment of necessity and desperation we went to that café, together.

Eventually we had to venture back into the cold, and back to our house that wasn’t much warmer, but before we left I looked back and saw that both glasses of orange juice had been finished, and for some reason, that’s all that mattered to me.

Like Raindrops In Rivers

Hey everyone, so I’m still doing this whole typewriter thing, in case you were curious. This here is more or less a little exercise. I’ve always thought that 1st person narrative was kind of hard, so I’ve been trying to do it a little more.  The inspiration to this comes from a pretty intriguing short story I read by an author called N. Primak, which you can find here

 

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Milwaukee Flights

*Just a quick note*

I’ve been wanting to add a new visual flare to my blog here, which explains what’s below. Also, I finally got my typewriter working so I’ll be damned if I’m not going to use it for something.

Milwaukee Flights.jpgHey everyone, hope you enjoyed the blog. I’d love to here what you all think of this look. Does it work? Does it not work? Let me know.

The Rampant Lands Pt.7- The Unending River Elsewhere

The river was an onyx mirror. It looked motionless on the surface, yet under the thin-film of visibility hidden currents pushed the water swiftly between the high banks. Like a violent swipe of a pen, heavy with ink, the flow cut through patches of willows and cattails and around bends onwards, always onwards. At one point in time, there was probably a map of the body of water, a highly detailed topographical rendering, showing every turn and varying depth within an inch margin of error. Ben didn’t have that map though, as far as he was concerned, the river went somewhere different.

He knew his obsession with different was unhealthy. It had been that way back home and the ailments only multiplied tenfold when he reached The Rampant Lands. He figured it was this way because something different and new was always so near. New people, new places, new experiences, those were the promises and for the most part the world he had found himself in had kept them faithfully. It was a plague of blessings. Like Thoreau at his lake, Ben had found his escape from the constant threat of homogeneity only to tumble violently into a routine of constant searching. Continue reading

The Rampant Lands Pt.6- The Honorable Caucus of Lushes

-From The Journal of Big Denny Walsh-

I’m not sure how many days or weeks had passed since my time with Juno. I also can’t remember exactly how many nights I thought about the promises that we made and how many I was distracted by something else. I am pretty damn certain though that the ratio favored the latter. The group I was travelling with and I passed the time trying to convince each other that the things that we found ourselves interested in was worth the others being interested in as well.

They took turns boring each other and me with fantasies they had created but had tricked themselves into believing were truths. If the scenery hadn’t been changing consistently, I would’ve sworn that we were walking around in circles: Prophets, perfect women, and heroics. The topics ran around, rabid, in circles and knots. I wish I could’ve convinced them that we needed to stay focused on the town with the guitars and the mountain drums. Continue reading