I closed my eyes. The lights were off, and my body was relaxed. Now and then a car rushed by on the highway outside my window. I heard them approaching, getting louder, and finally fading away. When each had passed, a silence was left behind. Not even my breath pierced it. As each came and went, I began to notice something curious. I could hear them move, and I was aware of how long it took them to pass by. It was the stillness between cars that didn't make sense. More cars passed by, and slowly, I began to see what it was.

Right then, another car sped by. When the sound faded away, everything just stopped. Nothing moved, and then time stood still. Perfectly still. There had been no past, and there was no future, and I could have lived right then, Forever. Until the moment another car passed by, and I was aware of how long it took to pass by.

Yes, we are strangers. Two years have passed, and I feel that nothing has changed. Yet it is not so, for the Universe is expanding, and we have been growing steadily apart. Even since the Dawn of Time, when we were toegether for an instant. An explosion of feeling has now set us on this course.

Like galaxies we drift along, immense yet isolated, till someday when there will be nothing but light-years in between.

Some nights, I go to sleep thinking of the compromises I have made that day. Moments of weakness: of fear and of laziness. I burn in a kind of shame. Out of the ashes comes a resolute Man with his eye on a Future. In the morning the ashes have cooled. The rules and cares drilled into him strip him of his will, his guts. The bright lights and moving images distract his vision from the horizon.

I go to bed, just another man.

Each time the fire burns, the flames grow dimmer. Some nights, the Man does not come, but I merely stare at the embers, wondering if they'll survive another day.

We talk about our classes, making jokes and laughing. Big Smiles. Warm eyes, half closed.

He removes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a trouser pocket. He cups his hands and stares down his nose. Eyes narrowed in concentration, and lips set. The flame is the centre of the Universe.

He turns the lighter off, inhaling deeply. His eyes flick back towards me. Ice cold through thin slits. He looks away and exhales.

We resume our conversation, breaking into laughter now and then.

"When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free."
--Wendell Berry

taken from here.

Almost uncool

"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone else when we're uncool."
- Lester Bangs, in Almost Famous

I was working late at night in my lab, when my mood switched and I decided to watch something. It was 1 am, and I was done with tea. So I brought out my laptop and watched a bit of Space Odyssey, then decided I'd better work, out of guilt, then my mood switched again and I began watching Almost Famous.

It's an enjoyable movie, and it always reminds me that there's a GREAT deal of music I haven't heard yet, and that most of it is old and there's very little new music to look forward to.

And as usual, there are a few really good scenes in the movie, like the one in which the line I quoted above appears. Kate Hudson if fabulous, as is Patrick Fugit. But they still aren't as good as the music.

Smoke up

The smell of pleasurable chemicals permeated the air. Dim lighting cast shadows on our eyes and beneath our lips. Occasionally a face would light up, and then disappear, replaced by freshly exhaled smoke. Laughter.

We talked about nothing and everything. Spewing memories and insults with equal ease. Anything was permissible. We even smile at jokes that aren't that funny. We roar at the ones that are.

A hookah arrives. At first, I get nothing out of it. A half-hearted effort, an empty pair of lungs. And then, she tells me how. I let go, and 'pull'. I fight my lungs, trying to keep them from collapsing. I realize I'm going to lose, soon, and exhale slowly. The rush isn't that patient with me. The hookah hooks me.

Pockets of silence. We sip our beers meditatively, gazing into space. I glance at the others, they glance back, our faces blank. Our eyes mirrors. I wait for them to say something. Or something-to-say to strike me. Nothing does, and so we smile and resume our meditations, or sing along with whatever is playing. Something hit''s one of us, and the conversation rolls on. Shock. Laughter.

I glance at her. She looks back. Her eyes are different. They have changed from mirrors... to windows. I can see deep into them, hidden things. But in doing so, my eyes must change too. As we look into each other, two worlds are exposed, connected. We try to learn this new world. What is it we see? Tiredness, mischief, longing... judgment?

We look away, distracted by conversation. We look back, in hope of a confirmation of what just passed. We just smile, and lose ourselves in the rest of us.