Thursday, March 4, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
We used to sit stagnant in our memories, some of them graying and weighted and still like lukewarm bath water. Others were from the beginnings, from the deepest and secret places we can only find as children or right before and after the sun rises. It’s in these moments that we remember the softness of a cat’s paws kneading into your ribcage, or the way the graze of sunlight gently wraps around your eyelashes and remarkably strokes them open from the softest sleep. It is in these moments that we realize how alive we can be, even when we have become the most eternal of Januaries, ridden with numbness and the thrill of debauchery and new bodies to keep us warm and away from the fading black and white of such memories.
We learn to focus on reality (if we can really label what that is) and the steady hum of today today today. It’s almost as if I can focus more on my ravaged heels or the bruise at my hip that it will be so easy to forget the unhealing internal pieces that are constantly held together with the limpest threads. It’s as if I can forget the most beloved things, I can become something well-placed and successful; I can work and buy things and not enjoy them; I can be dismal and unreflective and unuseful in the most important ways. I can adapt to anything, but the more I stray from my passions, the more I come to understand that which I am naturally inclined and need to do, because I have the ability to create remarkable things that not everyone else can do. And it is this thought, among all others, that makes the decision to choose happiness and passion the most important to make, although it is sometimes the most difficult.
We reveled in the darkness. We sat in the blue-lit luminescence of quiet night that no one else notices and ventured into the inner-workings of the paradox of how logic, in itself, can defy its own logic, and then in the chatter of the others we both looked at each other and saw the same enlightened, hollow darkness inside one another and we both told each other we appreciated the other and sealed up the lights lingering in the shadows once again.
The next day the sun scampered the cold away. I went to the park and left work in my shorts and sweater. I listened to the mix CD made for me (400 songs of solid gold) for hours. I stayed up late with the boys and felt the blush creep into my cheeks when I laughed and when I went home, I sat in Abby’s room in the dark and delved into the intricacies of here and now. I let these people create intangible beauty in the margins on every page, letting their magic shine into my own life and create sparkling brilliance.
So I let the colors combat the grey spaces; I allow them to soothe the worst memories, replace numbness with almost bliss and the swiftest heartaches. Slowly (but perhaps never fully) rising from timidity and awkwardness and fear, but always looking for the right direction.
We learn to focus on reality (if we can really label what that is) and the steady hum of today today today. It’s almost as if I can focus more on my ravaged heels or the bruise at my hip that it will be so easy to forget the unhealing internal pieces that are constantly held together with the limpest threads. It’s as if I can forget the most beloved things, I can become something well-placed and successful; I can work and buy things and not enjoy them; I can be dismal and unreflective and unuseful in the most important ways. I can adapt to anything, but the more I stray from my passions, the more I come to understand that which I am naturally inclined and need to do, because I have the ability to create remarkable things that not everyone else can do. And it is this thought, among all others, that makes the decision to choose happiness and passion the most important to make, although it is sometimes the most difficult.
We reveled in the darkness. We sat in the blue-lit luminescence of quiet night that no one else notices and ventured into the inner-workings of the paradox of how logic, in itself, can defy its own logic, and then in the chatter of the others we both looked at each other and saw the same enlightened, hollow darkness inside one another and we both told each other we appreciated the other and sealed up the lights lingering in the shadows once again.
The next day the sun scampered the cold away. I went to the park and left work in my shorts and sweater. I listened to the mix CD made for me (400 songs of solid gold) for hours. I stayed up late with the boys and felt the blush creep into my cheeks when I laughed and when I went home, I sat in Abby’s room in the dark and delved into the intricacies of here and now. I let these people create intangible beauty in the margins on every page, letting their magic shine into my own life and create sparkling brilliance.
So I let the colors combat the grey spaces; I allow them to soothe the worst memories, replace numbness with almost bliss and the swiftest heartaches. Slowly (but perhaps never fully) rising from timidity and awkwardness and fear, but always looking for the right direction.
