Midwest Skies

After a quick nap during class today, I found myself walking across campus, taking in the scenery around me. It was a muted, beautiful silence. As though somebody had turned down the volume on the urbanesque noises. There were no car engines, loud conversations or even the sound of the gentle breeze. It was gorgeous outside, the sun dropping behind the facades of buildings designed to further my ability to communicate this scene to you.

The skies above were royal in the sort of way you'd expect a gospel to describe. A true kingdom looming over our mundane daily tasks. How many around me wouldn't think twice about what I weighed so heavily upon? I continued my walk, juggling my own phone calls and miscellany, all the while preoccupied with the majestic painting forged by the twilight sun.

I tried to contemplate how unfeasible it would be for man to create such a color. An impossible mixture of pinks, purples, blues, oranges and whites. Nature's Architect alone knew the secret formula that was silently melting me. I took dozens of photographs, though pictures never seem to replicate the power of the human eye. While a picture may be worth a thousand words (putting my posts word count through the roof!), the vivid memories of such moments cannot be assigned an adequate value.

I continued my walk until I came upon the scene posted above. It was beautiful as the creatures of the air above me gracefully proceeded. The remains of industry scared the portrait, as plane exhaust became saturated with the vivid colors. Birds overhead flew by the thousands, weaving in and out of one another in a chaotic, yet beautiful formation.  They seemed to move in slow motion as my eyes wandered, darting around just as much as the aviators heading in the opposite direction. The cool air felt refreshing against my skin. I cherished the end of the sunset, as the masterpiece gave way to night, like the artist erasing the canvas to start afresh the following morning.

Kicking It Old School

I received a beautiful pen for my birthday today. Here is what it inspired me to write:

The Blind Watchmaker

by Trey Campbell

He tinkers in the dim light,
An unnecessary precaution for him
As the immortal day gives way
To the causal night
Meticulously testing gears
And sprockets, the finer pieces of life
He scoffs at the idea of a social construct
But romanticizes the spinning cogs
Relentless in their eternal motion
Perpetual, constant, assuring
The mantras of the blind watchmaker
As he works by the sounds of ticks and tocks
While time passes
And he produces clocks
So that the world may turn like watch hands.

Light

In a world where man finds himself so caught up worshipping the blinking satellites above, relaying their precious data seamlessly as fast as the speed of said blinking light itself, it is important to remember the celestial bodies that so often are obscured, either by the manmade monoliths of the big city or else by the encompassing power of man to occupy his mind elsewhere. The sun, Sol, invigorating and revitalizing the senses that are desensitized by the day-in and day-out of the everyday world. Or perhaps the lunar beauty that acts as its foil once the sun has completed its daily task. The distant Venus, seductively far away and yet the sister planet to our own strange world. As with all entities in the world, both good and bad arrise from these objects. The sun, with the ability to lift spirits, elicit chemical responses within the human body, and darken our delicate skin also possesses the power to unleash immense radioactive flares, grow cancer within our feeble bodies and burn us for getting greedy. And the moon, a silent beauty that observes the night from above. It is the core of Romanticism and what it embodies. A requited, tragic sort of love, where moon light so often illuminated the discreet meetings of star-crossed lovers. Consequently, the moon, while illuminating such deep emotion, also shines a spotlight on the wicked corners of night. The burglars and vagrant rapists who skew the alleyways and cracked, empty parking lots.

As the ancient Greeks knew better than any, and a wise piece of historic advice that has found itself ringing in my ears again and again, all in moderation. With a balance of the sun, the moon, the starry bodies and artificial creations of human innovation, a success can be achieved. The kind of success that fills, not the pockets, but rather the soul. So to anyone who may come across this without enough time in the average day-to-day, find a few minutes to step outside. Whether it be the heat of the afternoon or the latest hour, take in some light, for it is always available in some form. Feel its potential, as it empowers our vision and also our curious and wandering minds.

TC

Revolving Door

by Trey Campbell

Gone are the days when war was romantic
Gone are the days of unsolved mysteries
In its place computers and cord
Furiously entangling the world
Constricting what was once natural
And beautiful. A necessary evil.
Look forward though and not back
For in that romance was great horror
And uncertainty.
The Age of Knowledge is upon us
Yet while knowledge empowers,
Knowledge may still be too much
Unwanted, for the simple-minded.
Those who need not virtual access
To the billions amongst us.
Their fingertips, instead, stay hardened
Solitude and hard work drives their day
Not Solitaire and hardly working.
So who is right in their way of life?
Both. Respectively.
As time transcends, from sonnets to cyberspace
There is no such thing as mistakes,
Just opportunity.

Self-ish

As thoughts run through my head, I wonder over and over how to tell the world. It truly is a constant flux of thoughts and beliefs. Like the battles of a war void of outcome. I win some, I lose some. And in those moments of doubt, world, I find sanctuary in my love for writing. It is my staple, my constant, my anchor. When so much is unpredictable, to have something so valued and safe in life can do far more than that of any therapy. As sure as the sun setting outside my window now, I emphasize that you heed this paramount advice. Find what makes you happy and exploit it. Use it. Make it your slave without remorse. At the same time, cherish it. Treat it like the God you pray for. Take refuge and lay down with it when the chaos of the world inevitably seeks you out.

I believe in it. I may not belong here, and I may not belong anywhere. But, at the end of the day, whether I'm acting solipsistic or not, I can count on myself and my words to carry me through. If this blog isn't a testament to that, then I'm not sure what is. I can't confirm that anybody will read this as I write. And if I woke up tomorrow the only person left in the world, I would still write. For my sanity and for the hope that should someone stumble across it, that they can take away a small piece of advice to apply to their own lives. Individuality. When you parr it down, that is the quintessential purpose. To be you. To know and trust in your existence, the only existence you can count on. Until you find another existence to count on. To really, truly count on. Then you never let go. Not deep down.

So heed this message well, my friends. Know that I am not preaching. Rather, I'm merely suggesting how I've found what I deem success, and maybe some small sliver of it will help you in some way, whether it be related or not. Sometimes the answers we seek are in the places we don't find ourselves looking. Until next time.

TC

Party Girls and Speechcraft

So here I am, writing to you on this lazy Sunday afternoon. The weather outside reminds me of that one girl from that one party. You know the type, right? Looks great, and from a distance you just want to be part of it. However, once you commit, you realize that it's just a facade, and in reality it's cold. Guess looks aren't everything. That's outside today. I wake up and it looks like summer again. I want to be outside getting some sunlight. I finally decide it is a good idea and low-and-behold, it's in the 40s. It was even worse this morning when it was 34, but still looked like a typical late summer/early autumn type moment. That one girl from that one party. Cold and beautiful.

I feel like I'm coming more to terms with the idea that that grass is greener on the other side. I always want what I can't have and when I have the thing that I wanted, I'm back to square one. First I want stability, then I want freedom, then I want stability again. In an ideal world, I'll find some middle ground. Stable and free. The good life. Until then, I'm just going to keep running at 120%. No need for sleep, no need for rationality. Just a life filled with spontaneous doings, trusting my instincts and living in the now. I like it like that. I don't really care what happens good or bad, because I'm convinced that life is what you make it. In light of bad happenings, something good will arise, like a phoenix from the ashes. In terms of good times, there is usually a silver lining; an unexpected expense for acting in such a manner. No matter what though, the scale balances out. The greater forces at work wouldn't let it happen any other way. So maybe I'm a fatalistic optimist. Maybe I hate labels and only associate myself as such because people need names for things. Isn't that funny? The necessity for humankind to make sure everything has adequate words for it, when so often is the case that we can't surmise what we truly mean with the limitations of English. I think that is what I find so sexy about it. A constant and never-ending struggle to so carefully choose the right words. Succeed, and the world is yours for the taking. Fail, and you're just like everybody else. Not so bad, ladies and gentlemen, ma'ams and sirs. Not. So. Bad.

Hands and Wheels, Ten and Two

Song of the moment: Beats Antique - Egyptic

Hello all,

I'm dozing off again and again as I progressively wear my body out. It is a repeated trend each fall semester, with my final burnout happening right around Christmas vacation. It'll allow me a few weeks to recharge, though I plan to do so with some serious writing progress on the novella.

It's been awhile since I've published something creative, so let's give it a whirl...

Hands and Wheels, Ten and Two
by Trey Campbell
Downtime, uptime, more like uptime
All the time, not enough time
What I could do with just a little more time
Time and time again, I think about me
Me and you, us and them, but not really them
Just us, and how you seem to stop time
When I see you, I want more time
And I know it's not yet our time
But is there ever really a good time
For Me and you, us against them
Timid about time, tick tock
Tick tock. Tick tock.
It drives my day, in and out
Time to get over it though
As it is inevitable as death itself
And to death it'll inevitably lead.
Time.

Kind of channeling some beat poetry here. A little Ginsberg maybe? At least that was what I was going for. My mind is so fatigued. It is a good thing I don't have any raves, concerts or travel planned this weekend. Just good sleep and good times.

A State of Fuckery

Oh, Michigan. I'm becoming steadily more disappointed in you and the quality of life as time goes on. Yes, this is a rant. Just a warning. If you don't want to read it, don't. But there are two things that are very disconcerting to me. The first is the couch ban in Ann Arbor. No more couches on porches, says the city. The reasoning: A couch on a porch caught on fire and a student died. I feel bad for the student, I really do. But really, what kind of bullshit knee jerk reaction is that? If a couch inside a house caught fire and killed a student, would they ban furniture inside houses? Doubtful. If a house caught on fire in Ann Arbor, would they ban houses? What kind of stupid fucking question is that? It just is annoying that after hot debate, the best solution was to remove furniture from porches, a staple of my college lifestyle once I lived off-campus. I can't even remember how many days we'd sit out overlooking Packard on the couch, rain or shine. Bring our computers and some left-over pizza, maybe a flat beer too and sit on the porch and talk. Not anymore because apparently couches on porches kill people exclusively.

Second thing I'm pissed about: Banning 4Loko. More particularly, banning in Michigan all 55 alcoholic energy drinks. A few documented cases of hospitalized kids is a media frenzy. Surely more frat/sorority girls go to the hospital for alcohol poisoning on a weekly basis. Yet there are no efforts to curb that. Instead, the media is running away with a public panic and inducing hysteria to the masses about something that should be more carefully regulated. They say children have it in refrigerators at home. Yeah? Well if parents gave a shit a little bit more, maybe they would see the energy drink says "contains alcohol" in 7 different places. This is not an issue of 4Loko being potent or lethal compared to any other alcohol. Rather, it is an issue of how people are stupid.

Yikes

It has been awhile since my last post. My apologies to you, my faithful readers. I write as a study break from some literature. The required kind. The kind that gives off the appearance of sucking, but will surely come up in conversation years from now and I'll be glad to have some witty comment to make.

Song for the moment: Kenmochi Hidefuri - Emperor

I write today to discuss escapism. A powerful utility in the arsenal of humankind, though with that powerful ability comes a sort of admittance of defeat. There is a difference between escapism and taking a step back, or sleeping on an idea before discussing it. Escapism is the instant in-and-out departure from some event one does not want to face. I see it as an ultimate sign of weakness in an individual (don't worry, I'm not targeting anybody specifically).

I've taken notice that substances tend to be the most frequented means of escapism. I am most certainly not the person to preach disapproval towards the use of a stimulant or depressant, yet I can safely say that the abuse of these goods in a way that only puts a band-aid on a bullet hole won't lead anywhere productive. There is a distinct difference between recreational use and having a problem in which one needs to use to get away.

For me personally, my means of escape is music. I'll put my reputation on the line to say that music can effectively cure any wounded emotion, as well as unite, diversify, broaden horizons and convey messages that simple words or actions cannot. It is one of the most powerful of means to solve problems available and should heavily be utilized. I can get high simply by listening to a powerful song. I can become intoxicated by a sweet melody or a cunning lyric. If you are going to abuse something, abuse music. Just don't abuse it with Lady Gaga or Nickelback.

Speaking of Lady Gaga, please let me rant very briefly. I will be the first to admit that Lady Gaga's songs are annoying as shit. Plain and simply put, it is bad music. Catchy in all the ways that make me want to smash my head against cement pilons. However, Lady Gaga is a necessary component of our world. She is iconic, in the way that the remembered celebrity greats of our parent's generation were. It really hit me when I was in Italy and people over there hummed her songs, not knowing a single lyric, yet madly in love with the music. While she may be an odd woman and unconventional at that, and er music may fall on daft ears, happily and mindlessly droning away though to her pop-soaked candycane lyrics, she is representative of our collective society. She is the stereotype of the 2000s celebrity woman. She is the Madonna replacement, and before long, there will come another, ready to step into her shoes (or whatever the hell she is wearing on her feet these days). I can certainly respect her ability to perform, her ability to win over mass numbers of people and the fact that she does what she wants and doesn't give a shit how it makes her look. She is the most appealing hermaphrodite I've ever seen. I tip my hat and drink to her for those reasons.

Time to get back to the books. Maybe I'll be back later...
TC