Backseat Philosopher

Right now, I'm thinking about the neighbor who knows how to play the violin. I'm wishing I knew how too. But since I don't, I'll just have to hang by the balcony to listen, where the wifi connection is best(we steall it from the neighbors, shhhh); and as far are as recording the crazy tunes that come to my head every now and then goes, I'll just have to keep my recorder handy.

The only thing as good (or bad) as silence to let your thoughts roam wild is music. It just gets in there, messes with your head and lets it run around screaming, just figuratively of course. Although a literal response would possibly be more entertaining. And I dunno, there's still something about hearing a song over the radio that beats hearing it out of your mp3 player or ipod. Is it because the universe seems to talk to us at that moment, that by some chance a "good" song is playing? Or is it because on radio, the experience is more fleeting and beyond our control that we have no choice but to enjoy it while it's there? Or is it that somewhat rare occurance that one goes, "Oh, I've forgotten about this song, it was one of my favorites."? Who knows really?

Now I'm thinking about the jeep beside our car. I remember how once, near the back entry of the public vehicle I spied a pair of great legs, and as I viewed up towards the face I realized it was her. If there was any inkling to her that I was staring at her legs rather impolitely, it didn't show since she just waved and flashed that smile of hers. Sigh. I can only imagine now what kind of silly expression I must have had on my face at that moment.

Then I shift my eyes to the stars, and I remember my step-grand dad, who was a war veteran. Always wanted to share his stories, and in his old age, it seemed like it was all that he could think about. There was a sadness to his eyes sometimes that made me understand somehow how crazy wars must really be. Anyway, I remember him with the stars because he told us that he was the chef on the ship that picked up the 3 astronauts(from the moon expedition with the armstrong guy) when they crashed/landed into the ocean from space. It was his food that they first got to eat on their return from space, my step-grand dad would brag. I heard, on his deathbed he was shouting the words, at some imaginary(or unseen) things, "Get away from me you Devil!" He had died scared.

As the car hits a speed bump I remember one time as I went out biking that a group of dogs started to get hostile. Our dog, a German Shepard, came to the rescue, and though she was outnumbered, she still managed to draw their attention, giving me a chance to get a stick and make a quick exit. After a short scuffle between the dogs, she managed to make a strategic retreat and we headed back home.

I wonder if someday I'll ever be lucky enough to find someone to share my nothing memories. Stuff that might not really amount to anything but are really worth more than anything. The little things. Small things. The very specific minute details that compose our specific realities. Endless things.

And surprisingly, my thoughts end with a weak smile...but a smile nonetheless.

....

"Whatever games are played with us, we must play no games with ourselves." -Ralph Waldo Emerson