Here it is, yet another long and rambling stream-of-consciousness, one that will be probably be composed of many run-on sentences, typos, some experimental arguments ( for fun; please don't hate me for them!) and commentary as well as some of my trademark poesy and musings.
At a new phase of life I am. Again. As if I don't have enough of those.
But anyway. New phases of life seem to inspire me to start new projects; this is one of them. . . I shall attempt to resist the urge to obliterate this one, in a deleterious manner, as I have been known to do in the past with various online journals. (Offline ones, too. . . but that's a different story.)
During my time in the Grand Canyon state, I couldn't help but notice the infinitesimal nature of the place. Or maybe, my comprehension of the place was infinitesimal. Giant and glorious and beautiful and huge it was. So incredibly enormous, that I simply had to attempt to describe it somehow via the written word; not an easy task, but one that I somehow thought I might be up for, because all creative-type people, I think, do what they do because they must.
Indeed, sometimes it was an impossible task. Sometimes I'd find myself writing like a madwoman, knowing that I'd never reach the end of the beginning of starting to describe it; other times I'd find myself wanting to write, but unable to write and nearly be moved to tears for understanding the sheer magnanimous nature of everything and the depth and intensity of such raw beauty under the huge blue sky and deep red rock gorges and summer monsoons and the warm sunlight and shadows on sandstone in the desert and the delicate wildflowers somehow co-existing with stoic cacti standing up against the harsh wind; the high mountains' alpenglow and the trees all dense and fragrant, literally bursting with pine cones, a wayward tumbleweed, the meadows and the happy little woodland critters all over the place, a small slice of heaven: the view from my front door at dusk, sitting outside and witnessing the gradual usurption of daylight to dusk and the emergence of the zillions of stars and all the inspiration to where even my run-on sentences would run out of breath.
Infinitesimal is usually contextualized to mean small, insignificant amounts, but I seem to want to attach some kind of huge and aesthetic dimension of an infinite nature to it. . .