[part one]
things have never been more poignantly beautiful for me. i don't know how else to say it, really. never before have i felt so simply reassured just by the mere existence of someone like i do now. it runs so much deeper than love or lust; it's a river that we both drowned in, long ago; and now we lie on the bottom of the clay-like riverbed, embracing and sharing our visions of the afterlife, whispering "ask me to stay" and "i'll see you on the other side" because what we have today soon will be yesterday but could so easily be tomorrow, mountain of my beating heart, my dear. [i take a bow] and yes we are just scraping the bottom of the bowl of time (going by so slowly, and time can do so much: are you still mine?) but it feels like an eternal ocean in front of us. maybe i am just blind to land? but i know that though i may surface from this sea before you, your appearance beside me will be quick like an echo but as real as the ground i will be standing on. though i may run aground before you, i'll turn my face towards the sea and wait on those sandy beaches for your figure to emerge, venus-like and glowing so that only i may see you, from the watery depths of time and distance.
[part two]
i can't help but buying more and more books. i'm supposed to reading a section of the iliad a day. i did really well for about 9 days, but i haven't read since thursday. the harry potter excitement really got to me. the seventh books was phenomenal, no questions. i read it in under 24 hours (which makes me happy because it meant that i didn't have to stay off the internet that long) and had serious depression/withdrawal problems after that. but now that's over, i'm waiting for my copy of the british edition to come by post before i bother rereading it (though i read the ending a few times, and a few crucial scenes in the last chapter), so i've dived right back into reading Black Swan Green, reading nearly 100 pages yesterday! i have only about 140 left and would like to finish it tonight so that i can plow prodigiously through the growing stack that i now have. and like an intoxicated addict, i bought even more books:
- ham on rye - bukowski
- kafka on the shore - murakami
- the old man and the sea - hemmingway
- evening - minot
christ. that brings my total of books to read before reed up to, what...a bajillion? fuck.
got the new tegan and sara album. so far it's incredible. really good. really catchy. definitely living up to the awesomeoness of So Jealous. i already made one of their songs my ringtone. :) other new cds? interpol...eh. it's okay. heinrich manuever is an awesome song, but the album feels pretty weak so far, for the most part. it'll grow on me i'm sure. but the new editors album is really really good. they shed a little bit of their interpol/joy division-like sound (a good thing) and grew a lot as a band. comparisons are being made to coldplay, but i'd hardly take that as a compliment (as good as coldplay is, mind, but still, coldplay's a bit repetitive after a while). anyway, yeah.
24 July 2007
12 July 2007
when i was simple, among other things
i am:
- happy.
- reading 'the sirens of titan', with complete intention of finishing it in the next hour (i have 70 pages left)
- trying to get this story started. this is all i have:
Don't say goodnight. Please.
In the infinity of your hold, I beg of you to not let my hands slip from yours, to not allow your body to disintegrate into a million little sand crystals and fall between my fingers like water through a napkin.
I am soaked through to the bone, trying to rid you from me, but I am ridiculously unsuccessful. The way in which you have been woven into my most intimate systems is only comparable to the way the stars are laced into the night sky.
Here. Here, we watch the sunset together, the rolling arcs of the surrounding hills reminding us of how close to the sky we are. Oh, if only I were speaking in metaphors.
As stars begin to dot the sky, I feel you slowly melting back into the night from whence you came. Wither must I wander to maintain your heavy presence, your beating heart, your touch, gentle like a seductive god?
But:
"Stay," you say. I remain motionless.
"Don't say - "
"Goodnight."
"Please." But you are already gone.
--
From the sea you came, clothed in nothing but water-lilies and a thin, easily tangled garden of black hair, the night's eyes reflecting effortlessly in its glean.
--
i don't know where to go with that.
the decemberists concert was amazing. absolutely amazing.
as are most things.
and lastly, i am:
- not going anywhere.
- happy.
- reading 'the sirens of titan', with complete intention of finishing it in the next hour (i have 70 pages left)
- trying to get this story started. this is all i have:
Don't say goodnight. Please.
In the infinity of your hold, I beg of you to not let my hands slip from yours, to not allow your body to disintegrate into a million little sand crystals and fall between my fingers like water through a napkin.
I am soaked through to the bone, trying to rid you from me, but I am ridiculously unsuccessful. The way in which you have been woven into my most intimate systems is only comparable to the way the stars are laced into the night sky.
Here. Here, we watch the sunset together, the rolling arcs of the surrounding hills reminding us of how close to the sky we are. Oh, if only I were speaking in metaphors.
As stars begin to dot the sky, I feel you slowly melting back into the night from whence you came. Wither must I wander to maintain your heavy presence, your beating heart, your touch, gentle like a seductive god?
But:
"Stay," you say. I remain motionless.
"Don't say - "
"Goodnight."
"Please." But you are already gone.
--
From the sea you came, clothed in nothing but water-lilies and a thin, easily tangled garden of black hair, the night's eyes reflecting effortlessly in its glean.
--
i don't know where to go with that.
the decemberists concert was amazing. absolutely amazing.
as are most things.
and lastly, i am:
- not going anywhere.
05 July 2007
when i was a wolf
things are better. they always are. summer is in the air. and speaking of which. i hate the summer. i hate this weather. it's ridiculously inane. i miss walking through the chilly european streets. speaking of walking, as well, i hate that i have to drive to get ANYWHERE. i can't walk anywhere. except around my neighborhood. in london i could say "hey you know i want to go to Marble Arch or Buckingham Palace or Hyde Park or Park Lane or Oxford...i'm going to walk/take the tube." i can't do that here. "hey, i wanna go to my starbucks. i'm going to drive seven minutes. or walk for an hour in the 100 degree heat? nah, i'll drive." it's ridiculous.
and we're all going to the decemberists tonight! hoorah. at last. we've been planning this for like, two/three months already.
and i put a lot of things here that i took out because i don't know it was like "what's the point of putting all those things?" because people know what i feel and think, i know they do.
but yeah. it's sunny out, and as long as i stay indoors i can look outside and think "wow it's a beautiful day" without melting my skin. so i prefer to look on the bright side.
and we're all going to the decemberists tonight! hoorah. at last. we've been planning this for like, two/three months already.
and i put a lot of things here that i took out because i don't know it was like "what's the point of putting all those things?" because people know what i feel and think, i know they do.
but yeah. it's sunny out, and as long as i stay indoors i can look outside and think "wow it's a beautiful day" without melting my skin. so i prefer to look on the bright side.
03 July 2007
when i burned
and learned.
why bother thinking that something could mean the same to someone else as it does to you? why did i bother missing [xxxxxxxx] so much during europe, thinking about [xxx] nearly every night, wanting to come home just so see [xxx]? why why why? was i lead, blind, by a warm hand down the wrong path? was everything [xxx] said truly empty words, every quiver of [xxx] lips, every shape of [xxx] hands, every pulse of [xxx] body simply the wind of the moment? did it all leave as soon as it came? how is that possible?
i didn't want to come home from europe because i missed my bed or american food or the 100 degree weather (which is about as pleasant as rubbing naked against a cactus). i wanted to come home because i missed [xxx]. of course, i dare not tell [xxx] that. i would also never dare tell [xxx] that i nearly didn't go to europe so that i wouldn't lose spending one day with [xxx]. or that i was frightened because i looked at how much i missed [xxx] in three weeks, and thought about the four years i'd be gone.
i'm not depressed. and, sadly, i'm not surprised, either. i just thought i knew [xxx] better than that. i didn't think [xxx] was the kind of person who would do those kinds of things with someone for whom she had no feelings at all in that manner. and i like the old decrepit fool i am allowed myself to feel something chaotic and calm, destructive and beautiful, for [xxx]. i'm not sad so much as i am disappointed, in everything. not in [xxx] entirely. i don't know, i just thought perhaps something would work nicely before i had to leave for the great beyond. but for some reason i wasn't surprised. i knew that nothing for me is ever reciprocated. it can never be as simple as i hope or imagine it to be. there's a very dark part of me that doesn't even want to take the chance that it could work with someone, once, in the future, and live a recklessly lonely life in an apartment in paris, anonymous and unknown, cloaked in self-cast solitude until my sun sets for good.
and it doesn't matter who it is, whether it's your best friend or someone you just met, being told that [xxx] doesn't want what is going on, what you (or I, in the case) consider something special, something unique, something at all, definable or not, to continue...well, clearly, obviously, it cuts you somewhere much deeper than you expected. but especially when it's someone who is already that deep in your heart, anyway.
vino is right. it's a blessing and a curse. but the blessing is fleeting and light. the curse is heavy and prophetic. yes, her and i would have had to part ways one way or another, be it as friends or more than that. but the curse is a foretelling of the fact that my emotions will always, instead of connecting me with a woman, push me away from her.
i'm certainly not mad enough or hurt enough to not talk to her. i'm just disillusioned. but what hurts is that, while i'm upset and disappointed, i am not shocked. i expected this, somehow, on some level, because i know her inside out; i know the meaning of her every whim and breath, nearly. and i sensed this, of course. i just hoped that all those moments that could have convinced me otherwise were enough to outweigh my doubt.
another mini-poetry/song collection to be filed away under the heading:
"LOVERS FOR A DAY".
is that all it ever is? anyway, it's all i ever have to look back on: the art i created in the wake of her (whoever she is) loveliness and how she made me feel, one way or another. and i'm not heartbroken. i love her and still do (whether it's platonic or not, i don't know). i just wish it could have continued the way it did until i went away to school. perhaps so that i would feel i was truly leaving something amazing behind, forever cast in amber. one single happy memory that will have no shadow cast over it.
but because life is a rising and a setting, a break and an end of day, everything that stands in sight of the sun will be cursed with a shadow.
even us, my dear.
even me.
why bother thinking that something could mean the same to someone else as it does to you? why did i bother missing [xxxxxxxx] so much during europe, thinking about [xxx] nearly every night, wanting to come home just so see [xxx]? why why why? was i lead, blind, by a warm hand down the wrong path? was everything [xxx] said truly empty words, every quiver of [xxx] lips, every shape of [xxx] hands, every pulse of [xxx] body simply the wind of the moment? did it all leave as soon as it came? how is that possible?
i didn't want to come home from europe because i missed my bed or american food or the 100 degree weather (which is about as pleasant as rubbing naked against a cactus). i wanted to come home because i missed [xxx]. of course, i dare not tell [xxx] that. i would also never dare tell [xxx] that i nearly didn't go to europe so that i wouldn't lose spending one day with [xxx]. or that i was frightened because i looked at how much i missed [xxx] in three weeks, and thought about the four years i'd be gone.
i'm not depressed. and, sadly, i'm not surprised, either. i just thought i knew [xxx] better than that. i didn't think [xxx] was the kind of person who would do those kinds of things with someone for whom she had no feelings at all in that manner. and i like the old decrepit fool i am allowed myself to feel something chaotic and calm, destructive and beautiful, for [xxx]. i'm not sad so much as i am disappointed, in everything. not in [xxx] entirely. i don't know, i just thought perhaps something would work nicely before i had to leave for the great beyond. but for some reason i wasn't surprised. i knew that nothing for me is ever reciprocated. it can never be as simple as i hope or imagine it to be. there's a very dark part of me that doesn't even want to take the chance that it could work with someone, once, in the future, and live a recklessly lonely life in an apartment in paris, anonymous and unknown, cloaked in self-cast solitude until my sun sets for good.
and it doesn't matter who it is, whether it's your best friend or someone you just met, being told that [xxx] doesn't want what is going on, what you (or I, in the case) consider something special, something unique, something at all, definable or not, to continue...well, clearly, obviously, it cuts you somewhere much deeper than you expected. but especially when it's someone who is already that deep in your heart, anyway.
vino is right. it's a blessing and a curse. but the blessing is fleeting and light. the curse is heavy and prophetic. yes, her and i would have had to part ways one way or another, be it as friends or more than that. but the curse is a foretelling of the fact that my emotions will always, instead of connecting me with a woman, push me away from her.
i'm certainly not mad enough or hurt enough to not talk to her. i'm just disillusioned. but what hurts is that, while i'm upset and disappointed, i am not shocked. i expected this, somehow, on some level, because i know her inside out; i know the meaning of her every whim and breath, nearly. and i sensed this, of course. i just hoped that all those moments that could have convinced me otherwise were enough to outweigh my doubt.
another mini-poetry/song collection to be filed away under the heading:
"LOVERS FOR A DAY".
is that all it ever is? anyway, it's all i ever have to look back on: the art i created in the wake of her (whoever she is) loveliness and how she made me feel, one way or another. and i'm not heartbroken. i love her and still do (whether it's platonic or not, i don't know). i just wish it could have continued the way it did until i went away to school. perhaps so that i would feel i was truly leaving something amazing behind, forever cast in amber. one single happy memory that will have no shadow cast over it.
but because life is a rising and a setting, a break and an end of day, everything that stands in sight of the sun will be cursed with a shadow.
even us, my dear.
even me.
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