Does it not matter that I thought I had a vision that would die before 35? I hope it’s not true and Owen knew his foolheartedly. I always wanted more than that. I always wanted to get to bed earlier. I always wanted to be a baseball superstar. It doesn’t matter much anymore. I strapped my dreams to a sinking ship. I will figure my way out of this, but I have, at last, lost the last of my innocence. I knew what the cost was, but it was worth risking… and still is, I guess. It’s not that it doesn’t hurt, because it does. It’s not that I cannot live without you, or you, or you. I can live. It’s just that once I knew love like I knew the way my hands write my name, and now my name is strange to me, but I know love, and I know you, and I will follow and love and break and enter and crush my heart into a pulp. Itwasalwaysyouitwasalwaysyouitwasalwaysyouitwas alwaysyouitwasalwaysyouitwasalwaysyou, and now I have to figure out a different...
I cannot bring myself to sleep in the bed tonight, so I think I will turn on a movie and sleep here on the sofa, like a man who is in trouble with a woman who sleeps in the other room.
Oh let’s do the first kiss all over again. Tomorrow I will go to the theater to see someone else believe in themselves for a while. I can hear your heart palpitate too on this strange recording. It’s the strange way these things roll around. In this city, you will come to understand, that we like to eat, but just as surely we like to dream. We make it up as we go, even when the script has been written forever. I said the L word… Oh, fuck, I said the L word… This pillow is too big tonight – too big to hold just my dreams, so I will try to dream for the both of...
“or no we won’t. Instead tomorrow begins a long weekend in which I will be twisted in to knots, or things you cannot understand, and I will think of the ways in which Steve nailed my testicles to the wall today, and the ways in which he still loves you, and in the ways in which I keep F-ing up all over the place. I need to find my way into that bed back there with all of the knotted up bed sheets and the moisture with this moisturous air all about, and try to put myself out of misery for the night and to wake up in the morning with a new deposit in my bank account, and to finally realize that I am happy for my friends who have carried my ass this week that I began with only $11 in my account. Thanks for the dinners, camaraderie, joy and conversation. I guess at the end of the day that is all you need, and not a late night phone call. We all have something to do tomorrow, and some of us don’t get to choose when we get to do it.” — As William was speaking...
That clock never worked, now did it? We never could find the weight so it could tell time, so time just stopped. It has been perpetually 3 AM or PM in this house since the day it first graced the mantle. It seems so strange that it takes a little weight for time to move on, but to much weight can bring it to a halt again. I have just passed 3 AM tonight in the middle of another one of my fits of insomnia. Out with L to the movies and dinner tonight, I came home alone and restless and that clock just sat there telling me nothing much has changed. I had to get out of the house again and go to places where the timepieces do keep track. I need to feel like I am moving on, even if this place can seem warped in time. It reminds me of how JC said that in 1999 she reverted to playing out dramas of a 10-year-old again. Perhaps I have been trapped at 21 or 25 for too long. Like I didn’t get finished with something back then, and so now have to keep replaying it. Perhaps there hasn’t been enough weight, or there’s been too much, and I can’t seem to escape the perpetual 3 AM or PM. If I were to wind the clock it would move too fast without the weight, and, in fact, eventually I would get all of this time back. But that’s no way to experience time. When you were here, it seemed like time stood still. Sometimes for better. Sometimes...
...
Okay, I washed my new fancy pen that JC gave me this afternoon and it bled all over y hands and I can’t get the black off, but I also did another recording of this one. Don’t think these little presents will continue to come with this frequency, I just like the washy sound I am getting out of the setup right now and am trying out some new versions. Bob Dylan’s...
I have been sitting here peeling this orange for five years, or maybe two, or just a few months – and as it unfolds I am waiting for that sweet fruit to fall into my hands – but instead it unlayers like an onion – layer upon layer of orange rind with no discernible fruit. I wait. I peel. I hope. But, alas there seems to be no fruit there, and I begin to wonder about the truth of fruit, sugar, diabetes, hope and sickness. All I ever wanted was to get to the fruit, to feel that rush of fructose as it hits the bloodstream, but I get rind, I get zest, and no fruit. I can’t figure out if the fruit is reacting to me, or if it is just me, or you, or another – or is it the rind that is all of us. I am trying to discern the nature of citrus in the middle of January. I might paint over the fruit and call it ‘soap.’ I might write something that has nothing to do with oranges and call it ‘citrus.’ I think I will put the orange back on the tree, attaching it with super glue and paper clips, and sit and wait a while...
I haven’t done this in a while, and this is not a very god recording, but I have done an arrangement of ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ that I wanted to share. The song and arrangement seems to sum up my feelings over the last few months. Here it is: Fly Me to the...
Late on these nights when The Daily Planet is published, and just before I drift off to sleep, I have these half-waken dreams of love. There is darting and furrowed brows, and then there is Newtonian physics, and the laws of gravity (there are more than one as far as I am concerned). I have my cutoff, and sleep beckons, but dreams cannot be all. There could be warmth, I have been praying, in this bed, but you are all too far off. This is the year to get on with it. Elvis wedding chapel or something cheaper. I am glad for the day off. I am glad for the beauty that is shown, and has been for so long, to me. I will love you all when I have the time, but let me just love me for a little while now. My head cannot handle what my heart...
Recent Comments