Crystallization

Crystallization

Crystallization of a Maverick Moment is the full title of this blog.  Title is too long and often misunderstood, as we have a short attention span and we must attend to such things.  Begins with crystal and I wonder if it matters, that this was the name of my first girlfriend.  Was 8 years old and was prevented from taking valentine and candy to this young Miss.  Set me up for life.  Romantic no more.  Practical and all things come with consequence, not always as one would project.

 

Crystallization of disappointment and that is with me now as a maverick moment.  Frustrated.  Disappointed.  Fizzle and dissipate.  Opens the gate to all things down stream that end up in the ocean off the Japanese beach as radiated-junk  with an aura of certain hell.  Not for all, and so it goes.  Pass it on to the swim and the league of besieged fins 30 meters below.  Pass it on, or pass on it.  Not sure which.  But will work on that which becomes clear as crystal becomes:  Crystal now all-grown up.  No longer 8 years old.  No longer a heart-throb with my name on it.  Just a name I almost forgot.  But then I wrote or started this blog, and most of that which is important, returns.

Not sure what I should emphasize:  The Full Title and scope of something developing, like a storm 300 miles out,  and still in the formative stages.  Too early to discuss, and yet is all he thinks about now.  An idea forming and given voice by an abbreviated title line in a blog that will be read, but not fully understood. 

“Why?”   

Because it didn’t happen to you, it happened to me.

 

Is the structure he uses.  Short blog with definite space allotted, and is not equipped for something more complicated than just asking, “Why are we talking about Crystal, when there are more important things we could talk about?”

His answer:  “No time. “   Can’t talk about it, but he wants to.  Wants to include everything, and extends Crystallization to a few lines about a young Miss with the name Crystal.  Gone and off-topic now,  stoney and in the mood:

he just says what he was thinking in the first place.  Crystallization of a Maverick Moment.  Now the blog spontaneously crystalizes.  It is there, and covers all kinds of things.  Forms.  Patterns.  Structures. Mental Giants made of air.   Gains momentum and displays self-organizing properties.

“No time for this.”  He repeats but is slowly watching the length and breadth of blog extending, as if put together by some external agency.  It happens.  A molecule and a crystal, and it seems to be inhuman.  Not cruel but yet, disturbing.  Not put into play by a human, and not by stoney-blogger.  Words spontaneously crystalize.  Sea-Monster in Mind.  Spontaneous Growth.  Comes from the coffin of something done when he was but 8 years old.  First response to a feeling he did not comprehend.  No idea what romantic was supposed to be.

 

Saved his paper route money and bought candy and came up with a Valentine’s Card.  Then appears a step-father and was penciled in as an alien voice and opinion, and made its presence felt as the external agency I would live to defy.  “No time for this.  Too young for love.”

Emotions crystallize in a maverick moment.  In his head, and he can’t extinguish the flame, nor the pain.  Too young.  Must proceed with logic and imperative planted in an adult.  Passed on as a family thing, and now embedded.   He has stopped talking about it.  Feels little when others express all this.  Candy.  Valentine’s Day Card.  Perfume and a Love Spell.  Can’t put him into this scene.  Won’t admit to being a hostage of love or the lack of it.

Hopeless  Romantic and is his sore spot.  It hurts.  “No time for this.  Too young for love.”  But he is older now.  Wants to do a Google Search for  Crystal (Don’t Know Her Last Name).”  Wants to apologize for throwing the candy and the card and his heart in the trash.  But it is too late for that.  Blog is too long.  Part of the rule base.  Must stop now.   “Can’t do it.  Love is impossible.” Not something we talk about in our family.   Many years later and it is not crystal-clear. What did an 8 year old girl have to do with this?     Prohibition.  Alcohol and Love.  Against The Law.  

 And still, he wonders why.

Transient Duty

Transient Duty

“Deny Everything.”

Then tomorrow change your mind, and move on.

Say.  “NEXT.”

And be done with it.  Why look back.  We all make mistakes. 
We are human.

Besides we must consider this:  Our time is a precious commodity.   

Choose Wisely.

 

Having said that, it is now up to others to spin their wheels and join in.  Life and spontaneous combustion, and a world-at-large that is feeding on itself, and devouring all that is, and social media is the dinner table.  “All Sit.”  As if it is a necessary habit of being and we must feed ourselves that which nourishes us.   Each is unique.  So nothing I say here actually applies.  But it is my duty, and I call it as I see it:  Transient Duty.  The responsibility of those passing through, but standing before you and waiting to be judged and processed by the system.  And so it goes.     

Transient.  Passing though.

“NEXT.”  What does it all mean?  And does it really matter.  Do I need to understand the term he is using, and what he wants me to take away from the conversation?

“Don’t Know.”     That is my answer and will repeat it as often as you persist.  Now time to go. 

 “Get out of my face.  

 Done here.  Done with  you.  Move on.”

And cites an example from two different sources, just in case there is still some confusion  or misunderstanding of his true intent and usage of the word:  Transient.

“The transient beauty of youth.”  Comes from something he read.  He thinks it might apply, but with so many opinions floating around, he can’t pinpoint the reason why.

And then another take on all of this.

We begin with deception.   A Gypsy chuckle.  A gadje man lured to spend money by his susceptibility to a pretty face.

Seems legitimate to me.  The transient beauty of youth and susceptibility to a pretty face, and when I write this I ask myself:  Just mentioned in passing during the opening stages of presenting a blog theme that might interest you, and I wonder:  

 Do I have A TRANSIENT DUTY or do I just do as I said I would in the beginning.

“Deny Everything.”    “Move on.”

Temporary in all phases and he knows:  Love Guides Us Through Our Journey.  Passionate movement and he seeks the best in the present moment.

Saying  once more.  “Ignore me.  I am just passing through.   Daily Blog.  No principal.  It is free.”  The Gypsy said to me.

 

Invisible now.  Not something I talk about, but have friends in low places and will tell you more.  Received a message and it said.  “…. Miss you.  Please write….”   And this became a reminder of necessity.

Friends in low places and must locate myself on this spinning planet.  Lower 48 States.  USA.  Main-land.  And Texas on the bottom where they talk. 

 “Build a wall.”   

But we all know we all receive the message differently.  

 

“Miss you.  Please write.”   And here I am doing my transient duty.  Words dirty and dangerous and when pinned down and held responsible it goes like this.

“Deny Everything.”  Plead for forgiveness.  And if they let you go, move on quickly.  Be invisible now.

 

It is important to not read too much into this.  She said.  “Please write.”

Transient Duty and he takes it seriously.  Write something a Gypsy might chuckle over.  But who knows as all of this begins with deception and is structured around misdirection.  

 Seems obvious, he is on something or as others might say,

 “On To Something.  Not sure what.”

As it happens there is no turning back.  We have read the blog this far and might as well look at the pictures and wait for the moment when we read:  

 “THE END.”

 

Fortified with Irony, is best not to complain.  Enjoy the moment and then go on, into your day and life and journey.  Has very little to do with me.  Except when the message is clear and he receives it.  “ Miss you.  Please write.”

Not sure that I have much more to say just now.  Primitive Twin and no replacement for two of a kind so different that even mother doesn’t know, which is which.  Too busy.  Have to talk to them and discover what’s on the inside, as they look identical on the surface, but once you get to know them and are down a level or two, is practical to ask: 

 “What was I thinking.”  

 Primitive Twins, never the same.

 

And we move on.  “Damn Him.”   “Stop talking about building a fence and walling us out.  We are on the move.  Stop us if you can.”  And from the rear we hear a laugh.

“Just do it.”

Comes with a promise too good to be true.  “Gypsy on the Moon.  And in our hearts.”

Transient Duty and we move on.  Looking for a sign. 

 Benevolent Creation and Resting Place.  

   Call it: “Love.”