Tricky Tuesday

It’s somewhat of a cruel trick that through nothing more than hindsight, we can so clearly see the past, even though it was once such a milky affair.

The world is a strange place indeed, and getting stranger with each passing day.



I’ve watched such a transformation take place in my short time here that I feel I must record the changes, write everything down on paper just to get a clearer picture. We are in the midst of something weird, I tell ya true sir.

As the days continue their march forward, and tumble one by one on top of each other, I suppose I’ll just keep walking. The path ahead seems a bit fuzzy, a sort of fuzzy logic held firm in an unrelenting storm. I walk the path, and gaze longingly at the trees on either side.

Not yet.

My trail ends much farther down the road.


-I am Crandew


Fight The Calm

Stand very still, take a quick breath and hold on to it for just a moments time, and finally… finally learn to fight the calm that wells up in you.

These words, and this unapproachable thought that dances just to the side of me began to ring out as if from the skin of a bell, painting itself on to the walls of an empty theater. The dust has always survived, I thought. It finds a way to cover us, mocking us just by its very being. Breathe it in. Breathe it in you fool.

I’m doing it again. My intake on all that surrounds me is overwhelming. Relax. Slow down. Fight the calm, I tell myself. That’s it. I’m giving in to the calm, and closing myself off from the world again.

Not too long ago, I had nursed an idea that ‘everything worth knowing could somehow live deep within me’. I’m not so sure that’s the case anymore.

Calm. I want to know calm, and that’s a monster that lives outside my realm. I want to stand perfectly still and feel the motion of a world that moves silently beneath me. I want to feel the icy wind rush by, and hear the terrible moaning of the trees.

I want to fight the calm that dwells deep within me.

-I am Crandew


Dig In

Dig in and try your best to hunker down, it’s Monday again!

So brutal.

Not sure if we’ll all survive, but for those of us that do… we’ll try our best to remember those who just couldn’t take it anymore.

Mondays are brutal, I tell ya true Sir.

‘The days go by without number.’

I try to remember that, and dress accordingly.

Best of luck to ya!


-I am Crandew


Everything In Between

A distant ship’s smoke plays on the horizon.

Such a fluid thought, really. There are so many images out there that can only come though in waves. I marvel at so little as of late. It’s nice to have once owned such a vivid image, to have gently hung on the drawstrings from a thought bubble that was once suspended just above my head.

So profoundly human… in and of itself, a priori.

Always in motion, you and I. We are always in transit from here to there and back again, aren’t we? Constant motion. Always just shy in fulfilling poor Sir Isaac’s only dream. Oh the inhumanity of it all.

I shudder.


Early to rise, but not at all in any way you might imagine.

To each, their own… I suppose.

The days of my kind are numbered. I hold back forcefully any illusions on this ne’er more. A tide furtive enough to wash away the shoreline, abashed in full and yet sprinkled gleefully but with one true color.

Avast… for the dawn approaches.


-I am Crandew


Tidy The Cave

At heart, I would rather move fiercely in towards the light than run timidly away from the dark.

True story.

When left alone, I create… I build. I’m able to pull a few threads of   kindness from this harsh reality we call home, weaving with a sense of purpose a small goodness into the fold. This illusion never seems to last long enough though, as the tide always finds a way to wash pale the windows.

Still, the drums must play on.

On fluke, it might be time again for some good, old fashioned, get your paws dirty on the linoleum type cleaning. Might be.


The new day breaks, and here I am again… frozen solid, all tidy in my cave… running timidly from the dark.

-I am Crandew

Unintelligible Thought

On a day not terribly indifferent to this one, and on particular mornings such as these, nothing can be laid bare for long. A sky which in part remains silent and in whole barren until shattered by mort; all begins anew on a day not too unlike this one.

A break in routine doth require, on a day such as this.

Truth be foretold, Mondays are brutal… I tell ya true sir.

-I am Crandew



Tick Tick

There’s something just north of nefarious in the way that we all so easily lose track of time. It’s so easy in fact, that it’s happening to us again. Right here, right now… right this very minute.

tick.. tick..

I’m as much alert to as I am helpless by each second of the day, as it consistently ticks along its tracks. We are but passengers beneath a great divide, an old man once told me.

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I woke up on this fine morning in a great mood, seriously.

tick.. tick..

I set a pot to brew, before mounting my not so comfortable chair at my heavy oaken desk, and as my computer went about its normal wake up routine… I calmed myself. It was at that moment, that exact place in time… where I first became aware of the tick, tick, tick that lightly droned on from the elder clock, residing on the wall next to me. Such a strange companion, I thought.

tick.. tick..

We are all passengers deep within the divide, the old man once told me.

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My day will probably alight itself not so differently from yours. My time might be spent in favor or cast aside in fervor, but it will be my own just as yours must surely be owned by only you. What we choose to tick away our day with.. lies firm within our own choosing.

In fact, it might be the only true thing we ever really possess.

tick.. tick..



We are all just passengers across the great divide, the old man once told me.

tick.. tick..


-I am Crandew