June 30th

June 30^th

I am trying to understand why John and Donna make me so uncomfortable. If it is something within them, or if it is I who makes them uncomfortable, which makes me uncomfortable to be around them. For instance, tonight I went to grab a book of the shelf and sat on the other side of a bench from Donna, it was as if she could not share it with me. Both have made outrageous claims (as in their dealings with big foot and Donna's being older than God) that I think it is just their idiocy which makes me uncomfortable. I would call it a mental illness as there are obvious societal frictions which result. For some reason I associate John with some kind of fear. He is something that I do not want around, but feel like I can not shake, that he will be there, somehow and in one for or another, for all of my life, within me in some way. He is sin maybe? I do not know for sure why they crawl up my skin. I should. They are not my enemy, albeit they are my neighbor. Another facet of this frustration may come from Johns calling me Chuck, which I very much dislike. I suppose I will have to remind him that my name is “Charles.”

A plague and some thoughts

If the Plague were to be a metaphor stressing the modern minds reaction to the struggles of life, it would symbolize mans innate numbness of ego, sensual nature, and confusion of hope. However, within another light, the Plague is mans action in an extraordinary time. It is a line of reasoning and emotion created for the discovery of life in often inexperienced worlds. And finally, as Camus stimulating our sense of drama, existential loneliness and doubt? I doubt we shall know his intentions, lest there be a journal of personal reflection. But, I seek the portrait that Camus paints of our people in order to understand his vision of man. Is it that man is an ugly and wasteful creature, is there a dignity found within each persons mere existence, must one create this dignity within the actions of their time? Or is Camus showing the resilience of man in the face of death knocking, to meaningful reflections persons otherwise lost to life. And finally, beyond Camus, what is the Truth? How is one to learn and live, by the incorporation of paths between darkness and light? Why is it that man holds so many perspectives, literally limitless within his sensual and imaginable limits, and to what end shall he aim his future? While traveling, it is said the shortest distance is a straight line, but is life's meaning contained within the start and finish lines, or is it found in the accidents of the trail. In a homily I heard at st Marys Parish today the priest said that our work is in the sidetracks, it is in the mishaps and accidents. In a view of the overall picture of life, I seek solitary pleasure such as reading and writing, communal delights such as conversation, sharing of drink and eat, and interaction with the other. Shall I speak as a Christian with the language of brother and neighbor, shall I speak as an existentialist and explore choice, death, and meaning? Of what shall i fear, of whom shall I love. I ask as if there is I know of no right way.

July First

I would think that it would be amazing to have the discipline of habit to chronicle the events of my life. To reach beyond the melodramatic forgetfulness of my day into the reflection of a good journal. Shall I escape the laziness and extend my talents and capacities into the communication of my life to a broader spectrum of minds than my own? Shall I look back upon myself for clues into future dellemas? I say yes I shall, but so have I in the past many times. What shall launch me into this discipline?

The Cost of War

Look into these eyes

that look out on violence

look at my heart

and see the death of war

I am miles away from the pain

As I watch my entrails drain

onto the marble floor of a palace

where dreams once danced

I once had the head of a hero

so far gone now, as I reflect Nero

My rage as gentle as moonlight

my dreams filled with it throught the night

I have killed my brother and sister,

my daughter, my dog, and myself

In the name of God.

When will this end.

I seek peace

And know it is away

from this fighting

I seek rest and know that my sins will forever keep me awake

My sin is that I go along with life, that the trigger is pulled and my freedom annulled.

There is a women, Jennifer, at the Corcran house who wants to join the military. She has four kids that I know of. One is just a year old, another, around four, is the most beautiful girl who loves cuddling during reading. How can this women want to leave this world of love? How can she feel she is protecting something from miles away while killing another. And in turn killing herself. As she shoots down another mother, or father, in the same situation. As she puts her life on the line, a line that is now all too often crossed.