Blip

Just a few minutes ago I came in from laying out on the surprisingly soft bricks of my patio, where I was looking mildly at the sky and the stars and all the jazz they entail.

Jazz is something I don't understand. I like it but I really don't understand it. All the different musicians and writers and pieces and improve and impulse sound different obviously but I really don't know what to listen for when it's playing in my car. I can only seem to cling to some fleeting melody if a keyword like Miles Davis passes through my ears. It's kind of like a person you just meet who has the natural radiance of uniqueness- someone interesting. Someone who says something you could never have predicted. You have no idea how they came up with it or how they reached that tier of interesting...ness but it's something fascinating in a distant way.

Anyways it's fun to just look at the stars and sky. When I was younger I would have been scared shitless to have laid outside in that kind of darkness with the night sounds tapping and rapping... to have heard acorns falling and murders crawling in the unknown half acre of my backyard or the distant jumble of trees 60 feet away. But I also used to be very unnerved by the concept of space- it's infinity, it's absolute incomprehensible existence.

I'm content with space now, though. I know my facts about burning suns light years away and the Big Bang Guess and the psychedelic trips acid heads take through it's rolling fields. And I know what I know about my backyard.

I'm at a place where I know what I know and so I stand back from the unknown, taking scoops when I can but playing with what's in my hands. It's nice being a blip- a blip on the never ending spinning radar that can't ever be watched.