Mythos & Marginalia

life notes; flaws and all


  • subconscious thought

    The mind is full, yet the pages are blank.

    Haven’t we all kept a notepad and pencil next to our bed to capture thoughts that arrive at night? Yet so rarely do we find the time to record what has been on our mind. 

    We only sleep when we dream. 

    We only dream when we sleep.

    Dreams: we know we have them; those flashbacks that invade our thoughts in slumber. It is mental activity below the threshold of consciousness that depict or predicate certain moments in time. Often other people are involved, but the dreams are wholly your own.

    We don’t take notes while we dream. We can’t take notes because we are dreaming; to do so would interrupt the flow of thought, thus eliminate the dream. You cannot be conscious to fully dream. You must rely on the subconscious thought not immediately available to your consciousness.

    In the morning, you may write down what you remember from memory which is, more often than not, what involves a dream. Memory: the aftermath of life.

    Dreams are not reoccurring but happen again and again. Dreams do not stop and start; they are continuous. We only choose to tune in when we need relief from the life we have been living. Any notes we may take are nonsensical. Dreams do not involve logic. Logic requires validity.

  • Mondays are just young Fridays

    Find slight purpose to every thought.

    Each pencil stroke, intention or step is enough.

    Only you will determine how much.

    Inaction does not negate action.

    Each action validates the next.

    Perhaps that is its purpose?

    Maybe it is only a thought.

    It need not be deep.

    If only it were just a pencil stroke.

  • by yourself

    What is it about darkness, specifically the night, that provides comfort?

    It is more than solitude.

    Even by yourself, or especially when you are by yourself, there is aloneness.

    It is not loneliness. There is nothing to compare it to. 

    There is nothing there.

    At night, there is no one there to talk about it. 

    You can’t see everybody or anybody.

    During the day you see everybody, and they see you.

    Can they see your loneliness?

  • unceremoniously irresolute 

    Plans made even yesterday, or days or 

    weeks before, now shadows and smudges 

    on a vacant page.
    If we knew what we believe was there
    never would it have been erased.
          Even now, even later, our

          letters cannot be traced.

    Intentions. Things forgotten, ignored and

    not tended to. Or not bothered with.
    Aspirations, at first, then nothing.
    Unceremoniously irresolute and
    abruptly unfinished. Incomplete.
    Our lives often as such.

    If we believed what we knew was there
    wherever would our hope be placed?

           Is our later, in the now, still

           filled up with our disgrace? 

    Why are we not able to offer ourselves 

    the continued commitment required. 

    Thoughts often as much. 

  • Mondays are just young Fridays

    Memories: you are never sure when you have them. You are never sure when you make them. Unexpected, often; they just happen.

    It doesn’t seem to matter when they occur, you simply remember. It may have been years (or decades) since the event took place, but the predicament, the people, or the places come back to you fresh, from your memory.

    Memories come to you from photographs, in conversation, from music, or sounds and scent. Memories are as inspired as they are inspiring.

    The older you get, the more memories you have. Sometimes you talk, or write, about them. Other times you just let the glow of past days settle in your sub-conscious.

    Memories are more than they used to be.