Through the Nights….
Through the weather with the Windows down. And so it was written, in the summer of 2003. Ive been largely unable to write lately, or unwilling, as the case may be. In a very unMalleristic fashion, ive been able to shelve most of whats in my head, and throw myself in to work. I spent this afternoon digging up “Boys,” reflecting on the way we all lean on each other. Primarily, because i feel responsible for everyone around me. Ironically, i was going to post it here, but i friggin hate it. Oddly enough, i dont tend to enjoy anything Written before 06. A lot changed that year, and arguably ive been a much bigger mess SINCE then, but more its about the rhythm and enjambment for me. Mr writing was much simpler pre 06 and i dont like it, not that i love my new stuff. Maybe its just that i cant connect to it anymore? Maybe while my Mental state has waxed and waned, so has my penchant for specific styles. Who knows, certainly not me. Which brought me to Pushed to Shove.
Pushed to shove when options lacked, i was faced with honest living:
Talkers mute, as trains were tracked, as no words were ever giving
Methods to a life survived, means to ends- for talk is sparing
Words despondent, not revived, as spoken rarely meant in caring-
So the road, driven before, angst- in pain, as new- when younger
And how we tried to close that door, food for better, driven hunger.
That we sang, as hearts would bleed, disregard for any diction-
through the weather, through our need, yearning to believe conviction
Passed the three, as times evolved, the way the circle then expanded
Every time when i resolved: no falter, then how i demanded:
As acts-out were escalating, towing lines i disrespected,
More of you, left in berating me, to stop as you directed
Follow through, on my own word as i promised new discourse
And the way white lie was heard: i spoke it, but i had remorse
That i meant, perchance to try, spoke in honest want, desire
Still with that, extent to lie: i couldnt have put out the fire
That stop i could (can): if desired, as im since- out of control
But know i wont (cant), fired Conscience, (circumstances toll)
And frustration, heads are shaking, all my closest, then resigned
To miss the fallout, me mistaking: that for leaving me behind.
So commendable, you all, some to stop, to stand beside:
One who wanted a phone call, to reign on me, when i would ride
Many telling, lose the child, be in age as i should, growing
As they watched as i went wild, all-together were all knowing:
I wont stop, but better choices, i would make if i believed-
That the words i hear in voices, didnt devastate, conceived:
In dismissal, in indifference… seeking worth, but not preserving-
Health, for when i need persistence, not believing in deserving
So reflecting, on a Writing, where we stood as we moved on,
Im deflecting, as im fighting, knowing that the power’s gone
That then i wrote my “lets tonight,” that you replied “lets go,”
But you know i gave up that fight, that you have to say no.
So i stand with Roads and Words, the solace in the gap between:
That no ones near, for these “be heards,” in safety, so i will not lean:
On them, instead, upon my antics, as they play upon repeat-
And wonder as the second hand ticks, how long until they defeat?
Instincts bred upon survival, willing me to cross the lines-
Emotion craving, here revival, knowing that this mess defines
Disaster then- as ive been named, (that its not true, i do insist)
But believe (if its as youve claimed), that over distance, youre all missed.
Yet here as i am pushed to shove, know that i never turned on you-
Not on one, for all i love- and this is just the follow through-
That breaks my heart as i survive, but i meant every word declared-
To all of you, to not contrive, i hope you know, i really cared.
Ive been trying to carry a lot for the last few months. Ive reconnected with a lot of great people in my life, mostly through difficult circumstance though, and ive been doing what i can to try helping. I feel responsible for those around me, which i cannot really explain. Where i struggle is that im not always responsible for myself, and ive gotten very out of control. I dont like admitting that, especially in the light of the fact that i have zero intention of changing. It turns out i give great “pep talks,” even if im tempted to speak my mind in Subway’s. Turns out i give great coping advice too, i just dont follow it, LOL. No, i never “wrote my time down either”) But im handling my business as i should (and doing the best i ever have), but id be lying if i said i wasnt a hot dangerous mess the rest of the time. I wrote Boys about my friends who always stood beside, and how i love them for it. The circle has grown over the years… And i owe more of you much more than i have any right to owe. Ive shown some of you some pretty scary stuff. I couldnt, cant, and will never blame you for needing to be distant. No one wants to be in the blast radius when the fuse lights. Pushed isnt about my being alone, its about loving that you all were there, and i appreciate it.
That said, ive had to change my ways… So ive been avoiding a lot of people. In this regard, ive been called a liar, a bad friend, dishonest, and childish. I can change no perception as there will be no change; i suppose the difference is intent: Mine is none of anger, ill will, or distaste. Its the intent of wanting whats good for everyone, and me being around isnt whats good for everyone. For me, being an Adult hasnt been about getting my emotions under control: I know that may never happen. But im learning to know when to pull myself out of a toxic situation. I still love all the people ive lost over the years of my own volition (i just know they have to be clear of my bullshit too). I hope they at least understand that. I may never have been in control, but i too- was always honest.
Spring is here. And it looks like a summer of mayhem. 
Song of the moment: Steve Jablonsky- My Name is Lincoln (Thanks Rob!)
Peeking for the future (desirous ambition)
I started writing a post on something i wrote last may, called Ambition… It was just a note to a recently introduced friend about my admiration for her ambitious desires… But while i was writing, something funny happened: I was thinking about all of my *interests* over the years, as ive had a LOT of conversations lately on what it is *were all looking for.* In Ambition, i was talking about my excitement for people with passion, with drive… with their OWN dreams. Its SO important to me in a relationship that you believe in one another, that you want to be a part of their dreams, and they want to live in yours too. So on THAT note, i went to quote something i wrote once. I remembered the line “Say we’ll fight for both our lives, the ones we lived before we met, And that we will also fight, for things we havent thought of yet…”.Then i went a little nuts… Because it was nowhere on my computer.
While i dont write often, i write whenever i have a chance and am inspired. That means its been spread about, in location. Home, on my old laptop, on my work computer (Three dropped passes was written at 7pm at my desk at work while i waited for a software patch to install, LOL). Peeking (which i was searching for) never got saved at home, as i wrote it at 30,000 feet on my way to Florida for work. Im happy i found it stashed on myspace. That line holds SO true for me still.
I found out recently that the one woman i came close to marrying (or so i thought?) actually is married now, and a piece of me is very happy for her. But, as she remains the ONE person who i felt was “fully invested” in my dreams, our dreams, AND her dreams… It was hard to hear. But, i smile, and reread Peeking, which i wrote 3/24/08… And i hope that one day someone wants to dream WITH me again.
When desire runs amok and when a look is captivating,
(when the feelings that I’m feeling aren’t logic correlating)
Is the dream that I am craving what’s in image that I’m seeking,
Or is there such entrapment, in the dream that to, I’m peeking?
Passions motivated, and the dreams always supported,
Devotion so unwavering, from love never deported,
To go together, to not waver, two, the future, as we face it,
To the good, and two towards bad, life together (we embrace it)
Laughing often, smiling always, and the tears we know we’ll shed,
Though we know through hard and sad, we’ll always stand by what was said.
Words that tell, and words that sold, and words when needed as were told,
“I love you,” “Always,” and “to have” and not forget “to also hold”
The times before, when words were whispered, as the passed has walked away,
Im waiting for the trust inviting, where I know that you will say-
In Together, In Forever, In for Dreams that for we try,
Along for Cycles, as we Break them, Precious Cargo rules apply.
Say we’ll fight for both our lives, the ones we lived before we met,
And that we will also fight, for things we haven’t thought of yet.
But say that we will fight together, fighting with, but not against
And say that we are always allies, once that dream has then commenced
Promise me you’ll understand, the quirks, the rides, and all the fears,
(That you’ll know there won’t be answers or some reasons, for my tears)
That nightmares come and I can’t stop them, both in dreams and so in life
(That I don’t mean to wreak such havoc… I don’t mean to cause such strife)
And that we know the road is rocky, as were both of such conviction;
But though the highs and lows cascade, we know such love is that of fiction
Founded in our lives as we, make fairytales, in all we do;
For as we ride such krazy trains, and know our love will get us through.
With poems written, and lived out, and love transcending understanding,
Living in a dream as this is something that were both demanding.
Knowing people stare and wonder, on what faith do we rely?
To hold so dear, to hold another, to answer- as we both reply.
Its love, as love was just intended, love that lights our hearts ablaze.
And shouldn’t it, bewilder us, and set our eyes in to a craze?
And where is it, that I cant find, and wheres it gone where once it stood?
Well that id answer, if I knew, and once I know, (you know) I would.
Part of what makes writing so important to me, is the way you can say things so literally, that the majority of readers will pass without regard, as they only have meaning in certain contexts. I remember writing this, on the flight (i hate flying…) and thinking it was ironic: With my oversensed aural perception (along with my hyper emotional… whatever), certain things that have been spoken to me have stayed with me in their entirety. The fourth verse speaks volumes, as it carries traces from 3 people who have now come in to- and left- my world. I think thats why once i wrote that verse, i wrote those lines about Say We’ll Fight… I specifically remember finishing that fourth verse, and instantly feeling… Slighted. But alas, here we stand. As Jeff said to me today “smash the rear view, and look out the windshield.” I suppose here is hoping the future looks just a little bit like the past… But not too much.
The Only Goodbye (Ready to move)
I wrote for the first time in a while, tonight. Much to my chagrin (though not to my surprise) it changed direction a little as i got going (as they always do), but i guess thats part of what im dealing with in my head, so if thats the way it has to go… Way too much has been going on lately, and each and every day i look myself in the mirror and honestly try to ask what it is im fighting to hold on to. Im coming up short on answers.
Believing as i do about hope, about friendships, about comraderie, about love… Im stupid enough to carry a torch for any and all who need one, and to play a proverbial Horatio and the Gate until everyone is dead. Today, i decided to attempt what comes so easily for so many others, but that is typically an impossible feat 
for me. Im going to BURY the past. Not out of wanting, but out of deserving. I want to be happy, and- while i am often slighting grace (remind me to post Three Dropped Passes this week), i think there is decency enough in me to pick up the pieces and move on. But i wont do it with the past in my shadow, and you all know how i love to hold those candles.
I will post these pictures, all from my recent winter, and my recent enchantment, and my recent fun. Then, i will archive them and hide them. I’ll hide the notes, ill hide the letters, ill hide the pictures, ill delete the numbers, and ill stop looking back. Because what this Written was SUPPOSED to be about… Is that while i LOVE whats in my past, if it doesnt want to be in my future than i dont want it in my present.
I once promised that we would never be here again, but ive been taught (by many… who screamed) that some promises are bred in Pyrrhic Victory’s. Some promises are spoken, and some are implied. These, we will have to agree, were mutual broken promises.
Its been a VERY hard month. Without explaining, i dont know where ill be next month, in so many different ways. I had an epiphany today too: I dont care. It certainly cant get much worse. I may be moving, i may be getting ANOTHER new job, and so many things are up in the air. What i came home to write about, was just… “Fine. I get it. Lets just do it already.” Because thats just… How i am, these days. Im sad, but im VERY tired of sad. And at the risk of sounding pretentious, i dont deserve all thats happened, and deserve plenty that didnt. So lets get on it with, and get Ready to Move.
“How to Breathe” October sang, and with, i questioned “How to sleep?”
And dizzy, (my head then, had rang), at three to my bed, i would creep,
Returned to morning, press rewind, so i could play it on repeat,
And though i knew my ways would bind, the goal was only to defeat:
A mind that wanted to remain, a heart that cried for “who wont listen,”
So i thrashed it, in refrain (each night), as i would make eyes glisten
Push them ’til their skills were failing, body too, on couch, contesting
But not moving, as the ailing, felt by drunk, for night, arresting
Me from moving, and from dreaming, therein lies success in winning-
Fighting friends, as they were teaming, up on me and my beginning:
Recklessness as i cried out, and dangerous, as i cared little-
Testing this (i had no doubt), that i could shake my world, so brittle.
That i promised Crazy caged, said “steadfast” as the troubles brimmed,
As i (hurt, and then enraged), learned that my right was to rescind:
All i promised. All i gave, for what we had that now ive lost:
Our friendships that we will not save, for ONLY i would pay the cost.
Of standing by a promise made, to those who never paid a mind
To those (who next to) they had laid, or rode with (as friends of that kind).
Though leaving promise by the way, i wonder now why i am hurting?
And what is there thats left to say, there’s nothing, though thats disconcerting:
That i dont fit our social norms, that i believed in something better,
For “right” that i have weathered storms, for you, that i would write that letter.
That im old, though stuck (ignored), the way i feel that time forgot
The ignitron, for circuit board, as its all things that i am not.
Though you loved the “dedicated,” even some “tested in time,”
Discarded, then medicated, relics learn, to read the sign
Past replacement, now in basement, as we used that now not needed,
That complacent, look adjacent, to whats wrong- you never heeded
Warnings, but- its not for you. As this written, is for walking
Forward, and ill see it through, though not natural, i am stalking-
All my feelings, beating down, that is why no words to speak
To you, as then, id only frown, or cry, as underneath im weak.
Tired now… alone (though standing), wondering (since all this started)
(And for thinking, reprimanding), “if since we have now departed,
Have you looked to where i layed, and even felt a twinge of sadness?”
Id guess not, (the bed you made, you lie in) though i find it madness.
Though i said a forward walk, im closing Written fighting tears,
That i know we’ll never talk again, as i protect my ears
From my friends and from past, as both im known for ground retracing,
This time though, i’ll make it last, Tree’s have died, so now im facing.
I would like a “Happy,” please. Maybe one day, it will suit
My situation, so i tease, the notion of a new pursuit.
When it comes, show caution dear, and do not claim “were in together,”
Unless of course, you see my fear, and know, that youll remain, forever.
Sounds of the past- (We shall share no words)
Song- Steve Jablonsky- Bumblebee (unembedded)
What should it say that i can post something written exactly 382 days ago, and have it bear relevance exactly as it did then? It is sensory in nature, as i will try to explain:
And what to say of words when written words are running out?
And what of faith of faithful when theyre casting in to doubt?
The paragraphs, the memories, the story (though untrue)
Was held on high, in mind of my, although not in of you.
The story I was reading, read (but only in my mind)
A novel work of fiction though (to me, the fairest kind)
Of accidental tendencies, so natural but fought,
The dance I thought we danced so well; my thinking, all for naught.
The fraudulent, so beautiful, the way I held your hands,
The way I let imagination, deal me reprimands
The way we came together, knowing that we wouldn’t stay,
And the way I knew I never stopped, when stopped was what id say
And then we laid together, and we peeled off all the covers,
In body and emotion, as we first squared off as lovers
With fingers laced, entwined, and smiles chasing stormy weather
Adrift, a sirens voice, in stating “were in this together,”
My fingers dancing in your hair, the way you make the sound,
The way you felt, around my body, accidentally found,
And then I felt a shiver, as I stared back at your eyes,
I gasped, gave in, and let it go, sensation never lies
Though tomorrow, arrived alone, the morning even better,
The thoughts, the “misses”, and the notes, the way I read that letter
The wanting for the holding, for the smile, and the pleasure
The way I weighed the ways that i, could always keep the treasure.
But then the instant came when what was present was the past,
And though I knew it wouldn’t, wanted present then to last,
The birthday and the presence, never expected (but given)
The way the voice, took away choice, the way that I was Driven…
By “felt so good,” although I should, have left it in desire,
In memory, it comes to me, and keeps lighting the fire
Not the bodies, but the journey, and the conversation
The way your simple presence left me rendered in elation
But then its dark, for its tomorrow, and its all behind.
And though I still can hear it all, I know its in my mind.
And though you think, improper, at the words and all I share,
Theres readers few, but what I do, is cast my soul to bare
And for the pain, embarrassment, and all that you regret,
The sorry is all I provide, its all I can beget,
And as there isn’t more to say, there are no more “be heards.”
Theyre just my thoughts, and on such writtens, we shall share no words.
If you know me at all, you know i have never smelled anything. Whether that affects my other senses, or if im just extremely aurally sensitive, i cant be sure. Recently, i tried explaining something to some friends and family, which unnerved them: The majority of my memories are auditory in nature. Voices (it seems), i am hyper-sensitive too. Quite simply, i dont only recall the content of conversations past when i reflect, but i can almost hear them. Combined with my affinity for voices (i wonder which is cause and which is effect), the past becomes difficult to escape, because i can still hear every word, and a sad part of me really enjoys it.
Complicating that further, is while i dont get close to people very OFTEN i do it very QUICKLY. I dont find a fault in this, because ive never had much patience for half-stepping and mediocrity in friendships and relationships. Ive had the best of the best, and i maintain faith ill be there again one day. if there is a danger there, it is that i expect those close to me to see and understand the fragility of my head, and to not unravel me accidentally. We are a casual generation, and ive never been a casual person. if ive made a mistake, it was trusting my protection in THAT regard, to others. As i am naive, i cannot trust it to myself, for i’ll always go where my heart drags me, as i will always be a foolish dreamer.
“No words” was written on the heels of letting my mind rapture through a fictional perfection. I can STILL hear words said to me from that time, and they still enthrall (though they wound as they do). That i was able to grant asylum to our friendships (falsely), i learned something: My inability to mislead those closest to me, appears bred in desire for such honesty: For ive lied (and ive done it easily) and ive succeeded, when it was what someone needed to hear.
Song choice: Steve Jablonsky- Bumblebee. I just love the way it builds from almost nothing, with an off beat sound like a heartbeat. The strumming at the beginning is a wonderful choice too. And strings… Oye. Its crescendo (to the main theme from Transformers) is dramatic, and reminds me of the nature of people getting to know one another. Ill un-embed it at the next post, so it doesnt play all the time… (note: At 2:45 it really starts to hit. If you have a nice stereo, go play it there and crank it… You need the full dramatic effect to feel the emotion…)
Blame (aka. For us Four)
I had so much to write today, and didnt write anything. So many thoughts. Friends, solidarity, neutrality, loyalty, betrayal. All on my mind today. I wanted to write them all, but the story is many poems long. Instead, i just reflected on history.
This has a date on it from 368 days ago. Its ironic, but tonight id rather write less, and just let it linger. The story is true. Last year, though i lost three good friends in an instant, i placed the blame for only one of those three (last involved the least to carry) squarely on my shoulders. Though we had mended our past in the last twelve months, we find ourselves (again) bitter and adversarial. As (this time) ive been played as a pawn in a game of emotional control and manipulation i can try to discount as i go forward, but i would be a liar (and not a real man) if i said i did it without enmity.
Its hard for me, naive as i am. Ive always believed in friends that would weather all things. That said, ive always also believed in friendships that would stand up to telling one another when we were in the WRONG. But friendships are disposable, im told… And as ive stood next to a good friend and told him he was wrong, to watch him walk away, i’ll concede that maybe the friendships i seek are the works of fiction. And while i’ll concede at times recent i was a terrible friend to him to, i will vigilantly claim that my intent (though not my actions) was on the side of RIGHT, and i will never apologize for that. I will not be neutral for someone so wrong. And for that, my friends… I wont apologize.
Here is LAST years “For the Four of us, toward understanding.” (verse’s removed because i didnt like them )
The hurting and the fury wasnt wounded adoration,
But more the stinging of a friend (how i know that sensation).
That i will take the punishment, for having done no wrong,
That i should hurt the most of all, of all that sing this song:
The one, the calling, from the past, the one who did the leaving,
The one, the friend, turned one time lover, who walked away deceiving
The other friend, comrade in arms, the one not much for knowing,
And me, the one, decisionsless, whos blamed by all for showing.
By “calling” for the leaving, never done, for reasons any,
Blaming me, for “one time lover”, illogistics many,
For looks and pleasure, not compared, though compared by my past,
For discontent not felt by me, but blamed on me so fast.
By former friend (and former lover), for all the things i never started,
Except the friendship not rekindled, and the friendship now departed.
And though i tried to stop such actions, hearts on fire, always weak,
And so the blame of friends and leaving, always push us to the bleak,
The last involved, the least to carry, the one who was blind, to the scene,
And though in logic, never founded, emotions t’ward, forever lean.
To the hurt, and towards the heartache, matterless, (though so unjust)
As friends so barely, even knowing, friends in situation must:
Walk away, and not look back, as all together, we survive.
Us four in square, dif’rent perspectives, all desirous to thrive
Two to love, though hurting third, can go to loving, happily,
As understood (im always hoping), that it cant be seen by me.
And for the “calling,” such confusion, a current life, and then the past.
The one shes living, the ones shes chasing, a duality that cannot last.
And in the middle, always i, the one, whos stuck, hand on the trigger.
To shoot my dog, though i dont want to, i must rise to something bigger.
Alone and walking steady, though such friends no longer stand beside,
I wonder if the “ride together” is of friends who’ve always lied?
When i can say trust wont return, it never lived, it never breathed,
I wonder why are those that leave, the only, that in trust conceived?
The situations plenty, where i give to much, and dont take any,
For friends in need, a soul for sale, valued at, a lonely penny,
For backs against the wall we stand, hoping that they will be near,
But what if dire straights too much, and closest friends, remain in fear?
In fear they walk away, in walking, leaving on my own?
And what of life, in past ive seen, the walking, as its all ive known?
Why does it hurt, then, from you three: the calling, former, and the blind?
Why does it sting, when theres no friendship, no real tie thats meant to bind?
Whats strange is that, in asking questions, must i always, sense direction,
As i ONLY have done the walking, (and that must grant me some perception)
That ive been broken, many years, and so to you, explanation fails
That shooting dogs, before they die, is only logic that prevails.
Ive known it long, all twenty six, that all would leave, and leave me broken.
And only solace in the fact, that i could pay, instead with token.
I could push, and force away, to pull the trigger, on my own,
For if youre leaving, ill just force it (there is no difference, im alone).
Goodbyes are hard, but oh so easy, strange how that can be the case,
As long as eyes, are blank with feeling (as long as i dont see your face)
And so the sorry, for the friends, ive lost, that to, i wont be back,
Im sorry, as i love you all, im sorry, for all that i lack.
New Times, with Old Words, on Familiar Feelings…
“I have always been a firm believer in God and the power of prayer, though to be honest, my faith has made for a list of questions I definitely want answered after I’m gone.” - Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook- Chapter 1- “Miracles”
Religion is a touchy subject, and i dont go there often. Disregarding the “always been a believer” i think Nicholas Sparks said it best, in that: I have a lot of questions i may never get answers to. But, the following isnt really about religion, though the undertone is there. I wouldnt even post it, but it came up on the NavWorks forum, in that someone posted a quasi-spiritual-esque post on the subject of inspiration. I dont even have a copy of this with my writing at home… I found it on my old web storage address last night. Reason being, i was 500 miles from my computer when i wrote it… Actually, i was 500 miles from ANYTHING familiar. But when i found it last night, i remember an entire realm of feelings that sadly… arent all that distant from those of late.
I remember our life, and the love that you gave,
The times I hold dear, and the trinkets I save…
The softness of lips at the morn and the night,
And the way that you said it would all be allright.
The lives that ive lived in the time in between,
All the places ive been, all the faces ive seen.
Events that have pushed me, from Lake, Land, and Coast,
All the lives that I have lived I loved life with you most.
The Cycles we promised we’d break through together,
Rest stops where we promised, hand in hand we’d weather,
The trails, the habits, that from us God saught,
The prices, expensive, we knew must be bought.
That price is a place, with not one friendly face,
(Not a father, nor mother, or a long lost lover…)
No one to call, with a cycle just broken,
The price of a familys love, as a token,
The silence is hard, and there is no spared rod,
When you learn what alone is, me (and of course) God,
He is love, inspiration, and everlasting Grace,
In the cold, all alone, he is all BUT a face…
Each day, how I pray, families come around,
The one I was raised by, and the one I had found…
But though I love God, and I know he knows me,
I know they may not, for he graciously
Has shown me, with storms and with heartache, disaster,
That we built a world, that succumbs to no master,
And so no confusion, amongst prayers for Glory
On High, though they mean, that the end to this story,
May hurt, as it has. As it does. As it may…
That hurt as I am, that I wish I could say,
Id love you the way that, our God always Willed,
But that I loved you wrong, and our wrong love was killed,
Though ill beg Gods Forgiveness, from now till forever,
Ill Always be crying, about if id never:
Allowed things so fast, to rapture from our hands,
To dance in to actions with harsh reprimands…
I wonder, if we had kept God in our sight…
If your touch, would ward dreams off, and bring peace, tonight.
There are a LOT of stories in here. Its no secret i struggle with my family, we dont always get along. I can be a nasty nasty person, and they know how to bring out the nasty. There was a brutal altercation once, and (true to form) i had a car close by. I remember racing away, with my friend/love Juliette (the friend/love thing is another post…), and being beyond reason as i found a highway to get out of town to head back home. I pulled over at a rest area to fall apart 35 long minutes later, and we sat there for probably another 35 minutes. We talked about Breaking the Cycle, and being who we wanted to be, and not who we thought we were destined to be. And i found a set of eyes in conviction, that told me i wouldnt be alone as i looked for that road. And with that, we went home. Lovers are great. Friends and lovers are even better. Ive been with people id have never let see that, and they wouldve been stuck with angry-vicious-me for god knows how many days, and no way to calm me down. But a friend like that…
I wrote the above in a house i was borrowing, in a town i didnt really live in, where i didnt know anyone, and had nothing to my name but the belongings i had crammed in my Pontiac. I remember writing the first half, perched on a bed in my foreign borrowed home, and then driving to a restaurant to sit alone and eat, while i wrote the rest. I had NEVER been more alone. I have a picture of the sun coming up off the end of the island, that ill have to post later. Alone as i was, that picture will always stay with me.
Recently, someone told me “Our lives are defined by the choices we make, and we must stand by them.” A few times, as above, ive pushed the lines between a friend and a lover, because ive seen the greatness that comes from such a journey. But yes… Ive seen the end of it too. And sadly, there isnt really any way to go back, that ive found.
