Cumulonimbus preferred

There is a certain beauty in Nothing. Julia and I went camping with her parents last weekend and there was a point one night when her and I sat around the dimming fire. The campground was silent and looking up at the star filled sky I felt as though we were sitting in a satellite beeping precariously in orbit. This is a common activity. I often find myself staring at far off clouds and imagining what it would be like to fly among them (read: Flight of the Navigator). Or hypnotized by a deep blue horizon thinking how it would be to step into its Void. Most of these things are impossible. Only once encapsulated by clanking and buzzing machinery can one find an experience that begs for similarity, but in reality is far from the dreamt. Living in the prairies has only encouraged my day dreaming. While the City does its fair share of muffling the Sky a short walk exposes the spots where one can fall into its depths. The Westerly Mountains contain a certain amount of magic themselves, but it is a different magic.

May I continue with this thought? I don't want to be stifling.

Personally, I think we all long for Void. Not an empty void, but a Void nonetheless. Vacation destinations do not advertise "lovely cramped corridors and nooks". We love space. We picture ourselves standing on an empty beach with a giant blue expanse jutting out in front of us. We picture a hiking path and gasp when the trees open up and a sprawling valley engorges us with a colourful feast. And I am not sure what that means.

If I would ever appreciate thievery and the loot squandered it would be Willem Dafoe and his few scenes in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Julia and I watched this strange movie the other day and continue to enjoy Wes Anderson's Knack. While Bill Murray leads the story with his calm, yet broken, character, Dafoe's gollum features, bobbing pompom, and under-bite accentuated scenes with throat choking humour.