All things mental, Life and stuff

Still alive & sanity check mid-’15

It has been awhile since I’ve posted, but I assure you that I’m still alive, in every which way.

Things are going as they should. I wake up, find my arms and legs in place; face, cheekbones, chirping oiseaux outside the window. They sound happy, and I save the sound for sad times.

The washing machine; well-oiled and working. It whirs and I temporarily forget the birdsong. The whizzing traffic of metropolitan Europe is no different in this regard. I hear sounds only to forget others.

Sometimes, just before dozing into balmy oblivion, I catch my own sounds: beyond sticky blinks, throbbing chest, and measured breaths. Songs of my thoughts and sounds of their echoed endings, leaving me to muse in the choppy Memory Stew that dreams so often are.

I wake up, sifting through the pieces, as we so often do.

Nothing.

Oiseaux.

Breath.

Still alive.

This has been a routine sanity check.

It is only a check.

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Ocandle-poem-steve-nahaj

Poetry anytime

The wicks of our time

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Musings

Girl crying with ice cream on a Sunday

Her mother bent over to see what was the matter, and as I quickly passed by, I couldn’t imagine the culprit, watching the creamy treat sway in the tot’s hand.

It was chocolate. It was Paris. It was the park. It was Sunday.

Sure, it’s that day that comes before Monday, but the sun was out and it was truly Sunday, Someday.

I turned to my girlfriend. “If only I had a camera. What could she possibly be sad about?”

My girlfriend shrugged.

Ten minutes later, we found ourselves sitting along the Seine, backs against a brick wall. It was still Sunday. It was still Paris. I had a quasi-cold brew and the birds were still chirping.

I turned to my girlfriend again. “Shit, it’s hot! Should have found some shade.”

She agreed.

“Beer’s getting warm, too. And the mosquitoes are starting to come out.”

She agreed.

“Wanna leave after we finish our drinks?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

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Do it while you’re young! they tell me.

Do it while your joints are springy

Do it while your voice projects

Do it while you’re young

So that you won’t regret

Do it while the trees are lucent

Bark unburnt

Sun high, gazillion watts

Do it while you can afford

to forget to remember

and repulse those blackened thoughts

Do it while doing it is the thing to do

Do it while what you’re doing still feels

like you

Do it while you have money

Do it if you don’t

Do it just because doing it is better than

alternatives, alone

I’ve been told by nomads and suits alike

Do it while you’re young!

O I’ll do it, I told them

I’ll do it for life.

Poetry anytime

Do it while you’re young

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Art, From the novel

Cirque et Babylon

>> WELCOME TO THE ABYSS | Wandering, lusting, and learning to trust things
Debut novel available now on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00T54ZHUK

cirque-du-abyss-steve-nahajcity-of-abyss_steve_nahaj

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