You know how sometimes, someone, someone you knew, dies? And you say "sorry for your loss" or some crap like that.
Someone I knew died.
And though I can't think of any category to place him in, "someone" feels like such an ugly word to use in this context. He's not "someone." He's me..he's my soul. He's the person I loved most in this world. He's the one, the someone, I spent countless hours thinking after, hoping for, loving.
And from one second to the next, he's gone. Frightening, sometimes, how incomprehensible your own reality can be to you. I read the "died" in the message, the one telling me he was dead and thought through my tears,"what does died mean?" I almost picked up my phone and tried to call him. But he won't answer anymore. He's not there to answer anymore.
Listen to me... Those cheesy little reminders to embrace life right now? To say what you're not saying, to love who you're not loving? THAT'S IT. Loving people is the only thing that's real.
I wake up every morning now, and realize again (like I did the morning before, and will the morning after)..." he's still gone." "This is still real." And I wish more than anything I could go back and do more. I don't even know what. Just...notice more. Say more. Call more, even though I may have seemed like a stalker.
Those moments I spent laughing with him, kissing him, teasing him, loving him ...are precious to me. Precious.
I just realized that the last time I saw him and hugged him and whispered "I love you" to him, I had no idea it would be my last time to ever feel his arms around me and see his bright eyes staring back at me. But it was. It was my last time.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Thursday, January 05, 2012
You
Why are thoughts of “self” so unalterably cluttered with
thoughts of inadequacy and inferiority?? Why? Why is it so easy to look at the
person on our right and the person on our left and see the beauty and worth in
that person? WORTH. Yes, they may be flawed.
Yes, they may have ugly scars and dark, hidden places. But as long as it’s someone else, without a
thought you embrace those parts of them and see the wonderful, dazzling good alongside it.
Why can we not do this for ourselves?
Because, hey. We're worth it. Whatever it is.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Expression
I'm reading Brothers Karamozov right now.....MANNN.
Of all the world renowned authors I've slept with, like laid next to hand in hand and fallen asleep with "slept with", allegorically, I've never loved any of them like Dostoevsky. He's one of my own. He says the things already present in my soul, but he says them in a way that your heart understands them intuitively, not in the way you would communicate them through words. Watch: "stood under the sky" = "over him the heavenly dome, full of quiet, shining stars, hung boundlessly." This is the magic of Dostoevsky.
Words are a damned nuisance, I can't seem to transcend them. But I'm a poet at heart. The way I figure, it's just something you're born with--you observe closer, you love deeper, you miss more acutely. It's kind of a curse.
And on top of this, I aspire to be a writer. So I know how essentially impossible it is to communicate that "something" in a way that represents accurately, while still capturing essence. But this is the writers job. This is what we must do. (Incidentally....Shakespeare and Dickens failed here....I would propose. WHERE IS THE ESSENCE RIGHT? Gah. Shakespeare is an affected fop. And reading Dickens is like trudging through dark, murky water in the hopes of finding...what was it again?)
Read Pushkin. Read Pushkin's musing about his old lover's feet. Thennnn tell me Shakespeare got humanity, in a way that's fresh and honest, not contrived.
"Ah, dearest feet, where have you vanished? What vernal flowers do you tread? You left no prints, no pressings tender, upon our mournful northern snow."
Of all the world renowned authors I've slept with, like laid next to hand in hand and fallen asleep with "slept with", allegorically, I've never loved any of them like Dostoevsky. He's one of my own. He says the things already present in my soul, but he says them in a way that your heart understands them intuitively, not in the way you would communicate them through words. Watch: "stood under the sky" = "over him the heavenly dome, full of quiet, shining stars, hung boundlessly." This is the magic of Dostoevsky.
Words are a damned nuisance, I can't seem to transcend them. But I'm a poet at heart. The way I figure, it's just something you're born with--you observe closer, you love deeper, you miss more acutely. It's kind of a curse.
And on top of this, I aspire to be a writer. So I know how essentially impossible it is to communicate that "something" in a way that represents accurately, while still capturing essence. But this is the writers job. This is what we must do. (Incidentally....Shakespeare and Dickens failed here....I would propose. WHERE IS THE ESSENCE RIGHT? Gah. Shakespeare is an affected fop. And reading Dickens is like trudging through dark, murky water in the hopes of finding...what was it again?)
Read Pushkin. Read Pushkin's musing about his old lover's feet. Thennnn tell me Shakespeare got humanity, in a way that's fresh and honest, not contrived.
"Ah, dearest feet, where have you vanished? What vernal flowers do you tread? You left no prints, no pressings tender, upon our mournful northern snow."
Monday, October 03, 2011
A Dozen Details of Me
1. I believe in Neverland.
2. My mom always says I'm half glitter, half TNT. And she's kinda right.
3. Almost every day, I wave to a stranger like I knew them my whole life, and it's often the best part of my day.
4. I have an incontrovertible fondness for Black and White movies--they make me so happy. Movies suck nowadays, seriously. Apart from being generally insipid and untrue to the humanity they represent, they seem to be incapable of producing any useful effect whatsoever.
5. Heath Ledger is the sexiest guy ever to have breathed on this planet. STRAIGHTUP.
6. I play the piano. My life is..what's the word.......crowded? My life is crowded. Piano is a place where I get space. I pull out the wooden bench, sit down, and stretch out my fingers; and suddenly I'm lolling about contentedly in green rolling hills under an open, smiling sky with no need to know how I got there.
7. I have this thing where I can't read books other people are reading. I have to be reading a book no one's else is reading. I think subconsciously I'm worried I'll be more susceptible to their same thoughts and conclusions. I'm funny this way...
8. I love my friends. I need people to laugh and spend time with just like the next person; but I love to be alone. I'm comfortable with my own thoughts, with myself.
9. I always catch things that are thrown at me. Like, UNCANNY always...
10. I can only spell subconsciously if I do it really fast and don't think about it. Like I did just now.
11. I want to be nicer.
12. Banana's are the devil's butt, I can't look at them.
2. My mom always says I'm half glitter, half TNT. And she's kinda right.
3. Almost every day, I wave to a stranger like I knew them my whole life, and it's often the best part of my day.
4. I have an incontrovertible fondness for Black and White movies--they make me so happy. Movies suck nowadays, seriously. Apart from being generally insipid and untrue to the humanity they represent, they seem to be incapable of producing any useful effect whatsoever.
5. Heath Ledger is the sexiest guy ever to have breathed on this planet. STRAIGHTUP.
6. I play the piano. My life is..what's the word.......crowded? My life is crowded. Piano is a place where I get space. I pull out the wooden bench, sit down, and stretch out my fingers; and suddenly I'm lolling about contentedly in green rolling hills under an open, smiling sky with no need to know how I got there.
7. I have this thing where I can't read books other people are reading. I have to be reading a book no one's else is reading. I think subconsciously I'm worried I'll be more susceptible to their same thoughts and conclusions. I'm funny this way...
8. I love my friends. I need people to laugh and spend time with just like the next person; but I love to be alone. I'm comfortable with my own thoughts, with myself.
9. I always catch things that are thrown at me. Like, UNCANNY always...
10. I can only spell subconsciously if I do it really fast and don't think about it. Like I did just now.
11. I want to be nicer.
12. Banana's are the devil's butt, I can't look at them.
Saturday, August 06, 2011
Do you ever just scamper to your bed, and pull the covers over your head? Almost in a mad venture to block out...stuff, make the world seem a little smaller. Reality can be crushing. Sometimes it ruins my evening frolic in the kitchen, replacing it with an incredibly undesirable melancholy and tendency to mope. I hate to sound like a brooding damsel, but my indomitable spirit is ready to be done with this and--well--I need to brood to get there. Apparently.
.......WWWWWWTTTTFFF?!
What happened.
How do we go from where we were, to where you got...without me. Was it something I said? Did I do my makeup all wrong for too many days? Did my hair fall flatly, as it tends, and foreshadow the end of our romance in a way you couldn't get over?
Either you...WELL CRAP. Who cares. After examining myself thoroughly, I find myself just as lovable as ever, just as extraordinary and irreplaceable. I miss you. But at the end of the day, however sickeningly happy you could have made me, you wouldn't have. I'm best off without you. And as hard as those 5 words have been to come by, I've got them now. And your snowboard. :] heh heh.
Friday, August 05, 2011
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