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.

 

 

 

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