A Man's Hope is His Castle

You know, here lately I've been having a lot of thoughts on death, and through connections, God. Now God is a topic I take very seriously. I have my beliefs, as I'm sure everyone out there does. But my beliefs stop at exactly that: they're beliefs. I don't have some in depth story on how the earth appeared, or anecdote after anecdote of how unrelentless his undying love is. All I have is a belief in that some day, when my time comes, I'm going somewhere else. Good or bad, I have no fucking clue, but I can't wait to find out.

Any who, with all this Jesus talk going around, I guess I came up with this.

No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath... We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. It is our decision to live it how we choose, and stand for what we will. I don't care what you believe or what he believes, but so help me God, if you try to shove it down my throat I'll throw back a million couplets at you, A fistfull of hate, coated in sin, is the last thing I need to remind me of him. My most recent faith struggle is not one of intellect. I don’t really do that anymore. Sooner or later you just figure out there are some guys who don’t believe in God and they can prove He doesn't exist, and there are some other guys who do believe in God and they can prove He does exist, and the argument stopped being about God a long time ago and now it’s about who is smarter, and honestly I don’t care. It's pointless to argue over which will win, An immovable object or an unstoppable force. It is, as we smart people say, an impasse. And I've come to realize that is exactly what religion is. But I'm trying here, I'm even trying to imagine what it would be like to meet the God everyone talks of. Which his long, impressive beard, and his white robes, and long hippie hair, and his golden aura. What would it be like? And then I realize, I don't need to worry, I don't wonder anymore what I'll tell God when I go to heaven when we sit in the chairs under the tree, outside the city........I'll tell these things to God, and he'll laugh, I think and he'll remind me of the parts I forgot, the parts that were his favorite. We'll sit and remember my story together, and then he'll stand and put his arms around me and say, "well done," and that he liked my story. And my soul won't be thirsty anymore. Finally he'll turn and we'll walk toward the city, a city he will have spoken into existence a city built in a place where once there'd been nothing. And we shall stay... for all eternity.

Sugar and Rainbows

So I promised the person that got me into this whole blogging thing that I would start writing again, and honestly I need to. It's been years since I've actually sat down and written something that I am completely intact with. So here we go. Mind you I'm simply going with it, no first draft, no outline. Just typing. but it's a start.

There's a whole in my heart in the shape of your smile... And it can never be filled.
You remember that time, when we would be driven to the movies by our parents?
Two completely innocent souls strapped in besides one another in the back seat of your mother's minivan?
You even sat in the middle so you could sit just that much closer to her.
Do you remember that?
How you two, innocent as day, are sitting alone in the dark?
And you're pinky is right here... and her pinky is right there.. and suddenly you sum up the courage to move your pinky ever so slightly? And the craziest thing happens... she doesn't move it.
And the space between the two fingers could hold lifetimes of passion and yearning.
And you're ten year old heart is as happy as it could ever be.
And that is the "homerun" you have been searching for all of your life.
The only thing you need to survive.
I dream for a time that didn't have so many sexual strings,
A time that didn't have an innuindo in every other sentence.
Where hearts desired other hearts.
A time where a homerun wasn't spent in the backseat of a car,
but where you're holding hands in the backseat of mama's car.
I miss those days.
Days where you spend all day dreaming of the one you want,
and not in that Skinimax sort of way.
In that way that just makes you feel plain.... Goofy.
Goofy like you just blush when someone mentions your name.
Goofy like I have a bazillion things to say and ask you when you're not around,
but face to face I just stare at my toe making circles on the ground,
cause... i'm all thumbs.
In all honesty, I just want to write you a note that simply inquires:
Do you like me?
Yes. []
No. []
Maybe. []
(Please check one)

Cute girl who I'm writing this to?
I don't want to get in your pants...
Or make out with you...
I want to make a fucking fort with you
With all the sheets and all the blankets and all the chairs.
Right here in this living room.
We'll gape in awe at our soft labyrinth laced in scents of fabric softner,
and pringles,
and hot chocolate with big fluffy marshmellows.
Because I know those are your favourite things.
We'll sit under it all day and watch movie after movie,
cartoon after cartoon, and just because I really want to impress you...
I'll bust out my Boy Meet's World collection.
That's right, I have all the episodes.
An we'll hold hands and sit in our Kingdom all day long...
And we'll both be happy.
And then, you'll go home.
And I'll call you on the phone, and we'll talk all day... and all night.
Not giving up except for dinner. and the bathroom.
And then I'll hear the subtle change n your breathing, and I'll whisper
"are you asleep?"
And you'll reply
"yes"
And then I'll listen to you, as you sleep, to make sure that nothing happens and if you have a bad dream, I'm right there for you...
I'm always right there for you.
Always.
Know that, and trust it.
Because no matter how close our pinkies do or don't get, I'm yours.
And we can build as many forts, and watch as many movies as you want.
So long as you're happy.
Above all else,
that is what I want.
Your happiness.


When did the transition take place from what we think now to what I've just listed take place?
I don't know about you...
But that sounds amazing to me..

god speed
matthew-chase

1,705 miles

That's how many miles it is from the place I want to be.

You know, for nearly ten years now, I have watched, and somewhat taken part in a relationship that defines love down to it's very core. A relationship that stitches sunsets with it's very existence. A relationship that works despite the distance. And now, after years of standing happily on the side, I have found someone that I want to have it with. Someone that I want to share everything with. Someone that I would stand with forever.

And I don't know what to do....

I want it. So bad.

matthew-chase.

1.

You know, I probably spent 20 fucking minutes trying to find the picture that I wanted to represent me on my blog. Granted, most people don't go into too much depth as to the fucking picture for the backround, but then again, I'm not most people. The sooner you learn that, the better. Anywho, back to the matter at hand: the picture. Piano, is one of the dearest things I hold onto in this world, but not just the piano,  music in general. I once had a creative writing teacher tell me that music is just poetry to a beat. And I am a firm believer in that. The second thing about this photo that pulled me in was the feet. Now, don't get me wrong here, I don't care for feet, and NO, I don't have some weird fucking foot fetish or some bullshit like that. But I will always believe that if given the right pair, feet can be the most attractive things on the planet, and damnitt, that woman has some nice feet. Now, to the crux of reasoning: Beauty. I chose this picture for one reason, and one reason alone. It's fucking beautiful. Poetry and Photography are two things that I think will always correlate with one another. They are one in the same, the flowers and the sunset, the light among stars, the fire and passion. They come together in a way that I can't describe, and in instances like this, instances where I see something that just completely renders me speechless and ropes me in like a 7 year old and afternoon cartoons... I just want to do everything in my power to write something half as beautiful to give it all the glory I can.
In short, this is how I think. Weird, random, poetic, and insanely insulting.

Not bad for a first attempt at blogging if I may say so myself.

matthew-chase

Oh, and thank you Kimberly.