ephemeral disquietude

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  • The Poisonous Should

    If ever there were a word which wore the coat of innocence well it would be ‘should’.

    That 6 lettered lamb we so often use to alleviate our uncertainty by voicing out loud ” Should I stay or should I go?”. We could ask it to ourselves, a friend or a higher power. Though are we asking for help or an accomplice to our own indecision? That would only be a question we ourselves could answer.

    If we look longer we’ll spot another type of should. The sort we might see could be voicing our hunger politely by saying “Should we eat?” simply translated “I am hungry and I would like to eat” with the kindly invitation that asks “.. would you like to eat together?”. The should with which we search for a consensus with someone.

    Now let our gaze drift amongst all these cloudy ‘shoulds’ and see if we can spot a more devious. Do you should have seen it by now, there it is, right there.

    The ‘should’ which we place upon the head of someone else. From the most well meaning “You should do this, that or the other thing.” To the proverbial “Go f*ck yourself” we leave no room for dialogue. We have stated our case, made up our mind for someone else, and in turn denied them their perspective and motivations.

    We could say “Have you considered painting your house another shade?” Perhaps we dislike their tastes and the statement is charged all the same, but through asking the question we keep the door open for a deeper understanding.

    Maybe I’m over thinking a simple word, the nature of language is fluid and ever changing from the individual and the culture around them. Perhaps the nuance goes deeper still. One person’s should’s could be merely benign statements, excited expulsions, an open call for connection. The receivers interpretation a deeply personal experience all based on context.

    Suppose there in lies a more complicated essay, one in which we could dissect the question of each person’s experience of reality being wholly their own. Postulate on language, form and expression being incomplete communications from which we derive a communal understanding. The paint we use to create the simulacrum portraits in our minds gallery.

    Perhaps it’s a fools errand to set out to reach for perfect portraits, searching for rhyme and reason in imperfect language and symbolic gestures. The act of just being, accepting what is without speaking is a noble goal. Though I would argue without acknowledging the fickle nature of our own assumptions we in turn alienate another with the strokes of our presumptions.

    I could postulate for hours on why I despise being told “You should…”

    If I were to speculate in summary, I dislike the loss of my autonomy, the denial of further conversation on my motives and contemplations. If the intent was to stimulate new directions or a check of social consensus through subtext, I am would say be less covert. There’s easier ways than the cloak and dagger use of this word.

    And so I finish my manifesto on why I dislike the this stupid phrase.

    December 20, 2025

  • Breakfast by the Sea

    I’ve sat down with a tiny keyboard on a bench next to the sea. Sheltered by a sparce row of gale hardened trees as the wind whines and whales at their existence.

    The sun ever so gently warms my back through a blanket of clouds. The swept peaks of the waves slapping the sharp rocks jutting out of the water.

    Time’s meaning seems to have blown away here on this remote stretch of the country. The tourists don’t come on the off season. Even if there are residence I have seen non. Holed up out of sight, behind closed curtains perhaps they hide.

    And here I sit, by myself filled with a startling feeling of serenity. The wind plays with my hair like a lover on a lazy Sunday morning. Bathed in a lullaby of birdsong and whirs and whistles through the trees.

    How deeply I cherish these places, the moments in which I can drift away. To become utterly enraptured, present in beautiful simplicity.

    All those beautiful swirls I see, a logical harmony, my heart can hear nature’s symphony in its entirety. How deeply I love her music that can’t writen down.

    Perhaps I am too much of a romantic pinning after momentary natural peace, like a junky seeks relief through a hit or a business man satiates his fears through greed.

    Who am I to judge, an ignorant animal wandering like all the others. All the answers which I asked have led me here, a remote stretch of windswept coast. All the ones that still remain no longer haunt me the same way. All the other ones can wait a little longer today.

    December 8, 2025

  • There There

    I’m not sure I have anything I wish to say. I’ve sat down for an hour, wrote paragraphs and deleted them all the same. Placid ideas, lukewarm concepts and lackluster words. My hearts not even half in it.

    Perhaps I am afraid someone will venture off their platform, deviate from their feed, buck the trending to visit here. Fists full of ambition, bag full of hussles and tricks. Eyes made from dollar signs. “Nothing can be free nor purposefully pointless.”

    Then I remembered there’s no comments, likes or emails forms. A page without a link, no one would stumble on without knowing where to go. And who visits websites anymore anyway?

    A fertile little plot in the middle of an unknown forest oasis. Away from the hum drum hussle and bussle of the internet. Who knows if anything will grow, but if something does it’d free nourishment for any passing hungry stranger.

    This isn’t a place for merchants, salesmnen or greedy ambition.

    December 4, 2025