I write when I am confused,

or at least sometimes it is because I am confused that I write, and now is one of those times. Things change. I am back from college for a while, and I just saw Nadja. We were together with Tim and Jacque. And it was very exciting to see Nadja again, but also confusing. I mean, where do we stand? We’ve been living in different worlds for so long…she is one of my favorite people. I love her. I want to spend time with her. I will call her tomorrow and suggest that we get together. I want that. Okay.

I write when I am confused,

Games like pinball

I like games like pinball, where it is the player’s job to redirect a skein of consequence that is not completely under his control. I suppose I am focusing on this aspect because it is characteristic of life and other fun games. Card games with tricks have that quality. You do what you can with what you’ve got to get what you want. Solitaire is only like that to a certain degree, war is not like that at all. The outcome of war is hidden from the players, but it quickly becomes clear that the players and the game hardly interact, that the players are hardly involved in the game, that the players do not at all affect the outcome of the game. Important for the player to be involved in the game—nay—for the player to become an integral part of the game. The game must totally {respond to/depend on/change by} the actions of the players. The game must command the attention of the players. It must command their attent to themselves and their attent to the details of the actions of others. It must be like an intense conversation or an intimate sexual act—much is at stake, details count, the intensity of the game can change on a dime, something is known and something is unknown about the situation.

Games like pinball

South Green with Amy Browning

I have just gone walking the catwalks of South Green with Amy Browning. The snow is beginning to melt, but it is still cold outside. We held hands and spoke of engaging in sport activities. And kissed, and said goodnite.

Earlier me and the guys watched An Officer and a Gentleman. Like Top Gun, that movie makes me want to join the military, or at least be distinguished my discipline and skill. I would like to be valued by technical organizations. I would like to be honored for my dedication and hard work, and these military movies make it seem like the military does that.

These are days of romance and possibility. I am young and in college, and the snow speaks to my appetite of newness, freshness, and youth. To creature comforts and creation, a toast.

Good newborn winter night.

South Green with Amy Browning

Jealously is not something I feel for people,

because I know that what {Nadja or Amy or Sarah} and I have is something that we have regardless of what either of us has with others. I am not jealous simply because I refuse to view the world as triangles. Not only that, but in a more self-centered tack, I focus on the unrepeatability of the connection between me and the person I am relating with. I think of how that connection is unique, only ours, never to be attained before or since. And that uniqueness and specialness gives me cause to spend creative energy and time improving the relationship and nurturing experiences between the two. It is exciting to participate in the building of unions, for unions are truly something larger than the self. That is something I am searching for, something larger than myself. And sometimes I have been disappointed because I am looking for such a larger thing in the form of a god, and functionally I find none to exist. However, the existence of others is compatible with functionalism, and union through interaction is certainly something larger than the functional me. It is a power, an entity, of which I am a part, but which is in its totality beyond just me, outside of my individual scope. This allows for the possibility of mystery and wonder, and truly magical creation. So there is something : an important piece in my growth, when I realize explicitly that the thing I am searching for, which I characterize as higher than myself or beyond myself, that impetus for being, higher meaning, cause, may well be…others…and not just them, or me, but us, the union, the system. There is meaning in coexistence.

And this coexistence may begin to appear meaningless if your model of it pictures (from the outside) two or more entities interacting…and your perception of this interaction is from the outside of the entities, and not from within the system, as an integral part of the interaction. Because viewing as if from outside removes the mystery of the union, and the concept of union as beyond the reach of the individual…not to worry, however; such an external perception is meaningless…perception is always subjective, from the point of view of some subject, and that subject always has a limited/definable scope, that which is everything to (or the universe of) the subject…and working well between that which is the subject and that which is not is the union, the system, the mysterious. The distinction between subject and not subject is, of course, functional. From my point of view (always a redundant thing to say) there is that which I control (and that defines the I who is speaking) and there is that which I do not (that defines what is not the I who is speaking). Nadja, and my gastrointestinal processes lie far away from me on the spectrum of (control…not control). So if mystery and {whatnot good} lies in the union of me and others, the (glorious) interaction between that which I control and that which I do not control, then this union appears not only in the fusion of me and Nadja, but fusion between the (physically internal) parts of me that I do not control and the I who is speaking, the part of me that is control. Not {a subject “I” that controls [some functions]} but {control of [some functions] {/is the same thing as} “I”}.

Jealously is not something I feel for people,

I am

sing for no reason
except that you can
and let your chords wobble the silliest jam
don’t care if they hear you
and say that you’re banned

but sing like the wind
whose true name is I am

write for pure joy
or the foot of a lamb
and think of no mister, or master, or ma’am
whose wants might contain you
or spread you like jam

but write like the wind
whose true name is I am

live for the laughter
let nothing be damned
hear in your heart your own drummer and band
don’t let your steps simmer
like waves through the sand

but live like the wind
whose true name is I am

I am