The Sensation of Leaving

*Sorry, everyone, for being gone. Life has gotten in the way, and I really am slightly saddened that everyone can understand that. College visits and piles of homework have taken up all of my time... and focus... and energy. So I'm trying to make up for it, kind of. Not that I really need to. You all understand my ways- I don't need to explain myself. You probably understand me to a larger extent than I myself do.

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One of my most favorite sensations in the world is watching the highway zoom by- going forward in one direction. It's when you go away. Those long car rides are hours spent well in the deep realm of thought. It is a way of escape- and I'm not talking about the feeling of the stuffy hotel duvets and that one damn bright streetlight that creeps in through the tiniest crack in the curtains. I wrote a personal narrative on a trip, on this feeling, oh-so long ago, but I could never place it for what it truly was.

I really enjoyed the sensation of not feeling "away" while I was away, two weeks ago, to Tennessee. As I traveled across the county lines, I still felt at home in the world- in myself- in that I carried my "home" with me. It came in the form of friends, good friends- ones I had not seen in so long, yet I still carried their heavy, happy memories in my heart.

On my way home from the city, escaping smoke-filled air and cramped highways, all I could gaze at were the stars shimmering in the sky. Hours whizzed by like the passing landscape and streetlights, but the stars were there all along, along for the same ride I was. The couple sitting beside me was tangled in one another, arms and legs mixed in the midst of summer, but I smiled and had my own intimate conversation with the stars. Indeed, a conversation with the very own heavens that hold all of our dreams, our loves. Those bodies, shining bright!

(I'm going to end this post now, as I have a small, cutesy, pretty lame story about my experience with the stars. Actually, I think I could write a hundred poems, a thousand stories, and a million love songs about the stars. I'm obsessed, you know.)

Mack. :)

"... I try to make buildings that feel good to be in. Like this. C'mere."

Max took a step toward him. Carol suddenly enveloped Max in a bear hug.

"What's that feel like?"

"Ummm, hairy? Warm. Good."

"Yeah. I want to build a whole world like that."

I am on the peak of a big discovery as I type this, and man, does it feel good to be able to know what's on the other side of this mountain.

I woke up this morning & could feel how different life suddenly was. In contrast to the sweltering heat, the air was frigid and from far away. The chimes danced in the wind, the same familiar tune they swung along to at my Grandma's house. The autumn season sure has fallen over the Kentucky hills overnight. I was not quite prepared, but I have come to terms with the change. I missed the cold being dominant, and I missed the heat being a source of relief, not the opposite.

It's been almost a year since it, but I have finally come to terms with all that had happened, and all that is yet to come. That is my resolution- my mountain's peak. I'll explain later, when I am sure. Until then, you should do two things:

1. Listen to "Holocene" by Bon Iver & "The Leaves Will Change" (Acoustic) by Take Cover because they are appropriate for autumn nights.

2. Expect my blog's name to change, as I feel a change of heart coming on. I assure you, it's for the better.

Until another time, my friends!
MacKenzie.

potrayals

A. World's Fair

dried sand and dirt
glued to my skin
God's sweaty embrace: heat

the zebra chases the lion around the carousel
babes beg for prizes high on the wall
while the older kids desire to spin in every direction

faster faster faster

whirring of machines in a summer night
overcomes the crickets' final symphony
now almost fall.

spring forth for a few days
lighting up the nights
vain, comparison to the stars

meanwhile

Orion runs from his only fear
A scorpion in the sky
Hidden behind the screen of cigarette smoke

Delilah collects her pieces of silver
From the unsuspecting passerbys
While the animal shelter goes on empty

Where are we,
But really, why?

so utterly alone

"I don't really know you."
"That's okay. I don't really know me either."

I've been oddly obsessed with the above song for days now. A really good friend of mine sung it one day in front of a crowd, while we all surrounded her, our ears and our hearts open. Some people just have that power, to really move people, and this beautiful, talented individual was one of those types of people.

I've felt so utterly alone the last couple of days. Friday, the last night my best friend was in town, we spent it eating sundaes, taking a drive around town, and singing at the top of our lungs into the summer night sky. That night was a gift worthy of sitting at the front of the Christmas tree. But alas, the next morning wasn't the greatest, as I watched him zoom off towards college. I broke down in the driveway- crawled in the minivan, and cried.

I can't comprehend the whole truth of that morning, but I've noticed that goodbyes are getting harder, and I don't anticipate them to get easier through life.

There's many different things that have happened since my last post. Well, my best friend went off to college. My friends threw me a (spectacular) surprise party. I started school, now in my last year of high school. My Blogger account is being extremely unattractive and won't cooperate, and won't let me comment on most blogs (which I am very, very, very sorry for).

Well, for now, I'm stuck here craving something more in life. I might invite my friends over for a sleepover sometime soon. And we'll finger paint. Because it's enlightening. And we'll drive two hours away. Just to eat cupcakes. And we'll all walk up a big hill. It's worth it to see that Kentucky Sun set over the rolling hills.

Bigdreams,
Mack. :)

anti-birthday

august 5th, 2011

Is God really watching me?
Is anyone watching me?
I have no idea anymore.

I'm running from tomorrow, and chasing the past.

Goodnight.
I'll be back tomorrow, just not me.
I'm not myself now, but I defnitely won't be me after the sun falls.

So long, Mac-N-Cheese.
Hello, Ms. Rich.