Your mind is such a beautiful prison.
On repeat in my head:
"There is a silence that paces in us all
It’s sensitive to the peace that we’ve known
And if I could take that crevice in me
I’d fill it up with all that you bleed
I was walking into the water
and I was trying not to breathe
I could feel the current pulling
and I just kept in deeper
I’m sick of the pain that you’re feeling
It’s weighing you down
If I could erase it all within just one dive
I’d wrap you precious around my soul
and now I’m letting you go
as I drown these evil spirits and penetrate the obstacles
I feel the seaweed creeping up my skin
It’s like a monster that’s reaching for me
with the passion of life I’ve got left
I’m gonna use it to sacrifice myself
well, I dove down into the seaweed
Scared once before, but not anymore
As it twists and turns me away from the surface
Here’s my chance of letting it go
I’m sick of the pain that I’m feelin’
It’s weighing me down
If I could erase it all
within just one dive
I’ll wrap you precious around my soul
and now I’m letting you go
as I drown these evil spirits
and penetrate the obstacles.”
-Seaweed by The Gits
let’s spill time on the dancefloor like the last time we did
shared glances, crossed a room
there’s that ink inside i hid
we got time to kill
i’d rather spend it on the dancefloor and spill
time like we did
shared glances, crossed a room
with that ink inside i hid
opened up, bled form upon trees
bleached white cropped figurines
i posted, signed sealed and delivered
you hit me with the fever
Thanks a lot memories. Now I feel like shit. I believe I am going to multi-task and get further drunk in the shower, I’ve been meaning to take one.
I’m drunk and Elliot Smith just came up on my iTunes playlist while I am writing. Oh no.
I received a package in the mail the other day from a dear friend for Mikolajki, a Polish celebration of gift giving that separates the family celebration of Christmas from actual commercialism, which is nice.
She bought me two french Spider-man hardcover trade paper backs and a “Marvel Spotlight on Red Wolf” comic, which for those who know me very well will understand the wolf reference.
There were other little gifts she made but those are just for me. The most important gestures aren’t those that are measured by their monetary value, but by the genuine sentiment shared in hidden jokes and heartfelt secrets.
She took a bus home to visit her family, I’m glad she made it there safe.
I feel like I am on three separate roller coasters at the same time, I am hitting highs and lows at uneven periods over a very small span of time and at high velocity.
I am emotionally spent and physically drained to the point of exhaustion and it is only 10:34 am, I don’t even start work for close to two hours, and I have a full shift to look forward to. I’ve been up since 4 am, I really wish I could have slept more.
Monika sent me some very nice gifts in the mail, I’ll make a post about them tonight or tomorrow.
If you know me then you have probably heard me say that it is a four letter word. That it tends to ruin what it touches, that it complicates everything it comes in contact with and that it is illogical.
Depending on whether or not I woke up on a high note or not I will respond differently if someone asks me, “do you really think it ruins everything?” because quite honestly there are times when I am hurt, broken and unwrapped, and I think to myself that yes it does. There are times when things are well that I will deny that completely and attribute me saying it to the fact that I was just being handed a raw deal that week. That things just were not going my way and I felt bruised and didn’t see the bigger picture.
And both of those have some merit, which I would love to come back to in a moment.
What about the other two things I said? That it complicates everything it comes into contact with, and that it is highly illogical, are these statements accurate? Well, ask me that question whether I am riding high or am picking myself up from the ground once again and I will still tell you yes. They always are. I may add a bit more non constructive elaboration to them if I am not on the positive end but either way I believe them to be a constant. The question is, are they worth it?
I’ve thought about that very much over the past few days. I have thought of the different forms of “The L Word” such as Philia, Agape, Eros and even Thanatos. Individuals caught in the net that is my life have coaxed me to come forward and question the merit of that word, how it relates to functioning as a capable human being and how it will be a large part in my own internal self growth.
I cannot tell someone the amount of merit that it should hold for them but I will say that the troubling little thing I call “The L Word” is a very important thing to analyze. It is crucial not only to our means of survival, but to how we will define ourselves as individuals and how we will find the means to thrive. What part will it play in our lives? Believe me, the concept itself is unimaginably varied and intricate and even the four categories the Greeks broke it up into that are far more refined than our usual assumption of “Eros” when “The L Word” is mentioned. However it will play a role in who you are, even if Thanatos consumes your every thought.
Now, do I actually think it ruins everything? No, not exactly. “The L Word” is a force of change, and a damn powerful one at that. In fact, I might challenge Einstein when he said that compound interest is the most powerful force in the universe, I think love is and you had better believe I have celebrated that belief and condemned it equally at different times in my life.
Now, being an element of change means it has huge potential for risk. A lot of life is risky, but where there is risk there is the possibility for reward. I suppose at the end of the day you have to weigh in on how much merit you attribute to “The L Word”, and just how much you are going to risk to try and attain that. For me, it’s worth the risk. Believe me, I’ve been burned. I have had my ashes thrown into the wind and scattered and have had to rebuild myself piece by piece and start over once again.
I know what the cost of risking and coming out on the losing end of love will do to a man, I know how it does more than simply make you feel raw for a bit. No, I know how real love changes you in a very powerful, visceral, primal and overwhelming manner when it tears you apart. You know what though? I also know the jubilation and elation and feeling that nothing in this world could possibly effect you in the slightest because you have experienced love. Yes, I have experienced that triumphant exuberant feeling and it is something that I believe everyone deserves.
Love means change. No matter how you approach it, it will change you, there isn’t a way around that; and that frightens many people to no end, it can paralyze them in ways they did not think were possible. I’ll save you a little suspense though in case you’ve read this far and never experienced it, I’ll tell you a secret.
Life changes you.
That is all there is to it. The very fact that you are living is a risk. A bold one, and just by you sitting still you are changing, by being inaction you are still making a statement that will define you. You can not deter change, you can only accept or fear it. The way I see it, love only stimulates change and explores the intricacies and delicate nature of the universe in ways you could never have imagined. It takes you on a journey to explore the vast mosaic of wonder and chaos that is life. Love takes life and transforms it from a stroll along a side street into a journey across the globe. I’ll be damned if I let my life be condemned to a single lane, I don’t want to do that to myself. I deserve more than that.
Ask yourself, are you worth the risk of reaching out for friendship? For self exploration? For amorous bonds? There is no strength like the kind it takes to take hold of someone who is reaching out to you and there is no courage quite like the kind it takes to reach out in the first place. Those are powerful forces, and they are frightening.
"The soft-minded man always fears change. He feels security in the status quo, and he has an almost morbid fear of the new. For him, the greatest pain is the pain of a new idea"
-Martin Luther King Jr.
I love that quote, and I believe it applies to “The L Word”, which if you noticed I actually did come out and type the entire word once throughout this post, and you know why? It is because I believe in it one hundred percent.
Everyone has the opportunity to do as the wish, however love is a concept I choose to fight for. Whether it is a friendship, an amorous relationship, someone to seek counsel from or someone to place my trust in, I believe it is a concept worth fighting for. Without it, I believe that we aren’t really living, we are just killing time; and to be as blunt as possible, not a single one of us has much of that to begin with.
I’ve made my decision, I hope you are able to look in the mirror and makes yours.
Just the thoughts from a single, lonely, hopeful man.
Edit: I actually used “The L Word” seven times in this post, not once. I’m proud of myself, I did not even realize that I did. I must be changing more than I thought.
I had been awake for close to 48 hours. You see, having chronic insomnia and suddenly falling victim to an asthma attack which something you have not had for a couple of years, are grounds for not being able to sleep.
You breathe much more deeply when you sleep. If you need to sit up straight and concentrate every waking moment to carefully breathe in and out quite painfully, well, then you do not sleep.
I looked at this photo, it was taken last year, days after my birthday.
My mother took me to the clinic. They had to put an oxygen mask on me, injected me with some sort of medicine and I believe I went home with some sort of short term inhaler. I remember how worried Mom was, so I started doing jazz hands and dancing, she made me sit down but I got her to take a photo.
Why am I posting this right now? I am terribly stressed. Terribly worried. I feel the burden of great pressure from an intricate web of many interconnected issues in life that require patience, courage, temperance and both physical and mental fortitude to endure. I feel emotionally drained each day and when I do I find myself thinking that I cannot summon the will or inspiration to do what truly relieves stress for me, what releases me, what carries me from the shackles of monotony and into elation; to sit in front of my laptop and allow my fingertips to glide over the keys, to write what I feel struggling to escape me.
Despite the pressure and the pain I seem to be plagued with as of late I have been summoning a continuous host of perilous and precious moments to the screen in front of me. Especially despite the fingers sliced open and stitched together, I’ve bled emotion onto the screen in front of me.
All of this is one large, chaotic dance. It is me smiling when I should scowl. It is me choosing to draw from the oppressive judgement of the universe, however random it may be. When you find yourself slipping and you are backed into a corner, adversity looming over you, sometimes you really only have two choices; you either cower and weep or you smile and laugh. My writing is how I take the delicate malice of the moment and weave it into what beauty may be found in sorrow. What freedom may be found in unresolved journeys. What peace can be found in a life lived without fulfillment or catharsis.
For my birthday gift last year was that of panic, of chaos, of deterioration, of frantic memories of my youth. It was that of fear. Each second I had to spend incredible concentration on taking every single breath. Focusing my efforts in slow waves until nearly ten minutes later my effort would pay off with one single, deep breath in. I feared losing concentration due to lack of sleep. I fear succumbing to the hold of a seizure due to my epilepsy. I took that gift and danced, and I came out alright.
I will do all that I know how to, I will write.
And I’ll continue to smile, pressures of life be damned.
I want to tear out these stitches on my own, I would go back to the hospital and they would have me stitched up once again. And then again so that I could be stitched up once more. Memories of them could be burned but I could keep it with me just a little bit longer.
I will still have a scar no matter if I tear them out or allow the doctor to at the appropriate time. Scars remind you that the past was real. They are permanent. They cannot be reduced to ash and be forgotten.
Whenever I reach out in front of me I will see that scar, and in it hear your hushed voice and soft whimpers in between the irrelevant banter of one of many stories I told to you, little pieces of me that I allowed you to have.
Remembering the pain of November as my fingers pushed themselves against the keyboard in front of me as I struggled with a deadline, opening myself up to bleed in a font beyond what I imagined was possible for me. I treasure it.
If you thought that curiosity only complicated matters then you should have ran when I said I was a fraud.
In your wake I am only left with a pile of hypothetical events to ponder. They seemed to be so intriguing until I told you they could be true.
I’m not a fraud I suppose, just a fool for believing. However I still place my trust in the sentiment of knowing that it is better to regret something you did, than something that you didn’t do.
Each scar has a story, and in each story there is much that lives in between the lines. You are tucked away between the folds of my skin, and like I said, even if I wanted to I could not possibly forget if I tried.
To anyone who reads this, learn to cherish your scars, they are a part of you that can never be undone. Nothing is more truthful, nothing so honest.