having ice cream with you in the evening, in bed, is better than the first snow, though it may fall carefully and apologetically, better than the apple pie I bought on the road to Chicago, better than the crackle from the radio fading in & out on the way from an all-night jazz station, maybe because no one was there but great mystery, maybe because I had no one to tell it to, maybe because I've fallen for you.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
having ice cream with you in the evening, in bed, is better than a cold corona on a hot summer day in rome, better than the night in a tavern in athens, better than the morning I drove through the fog in mississippi even when the sun shone through the mist, better than appraoching the shining lights in vegas at 7 am having driven all night in utah, better than the cold, wet dew of arkansas
Sunday, December 30, 2012
It was the hardest thing I've had to do. I always thought that... each time. It was like pulling a bullet out of your own heart, and knowing that the other person was suffering too. It was knowing that you both would suffer but that sneaking suspicion that your wound would somehow be worse. It was absolute powerlessness, and knowing if I gave up it would just be worse for both of us. Because she wouldn't know that I hadn't forgiven her yet. For the bullet. It's a metaphor, but it was something like that. I'd have changed the outcome if I thought it was possible. Long-term possible. These things are so slowly reversed, and I only have control over my side of things. In the end, it was nothing if not honest. Things couldn't just stand the way they were. I can't change a person, not overnight, maybe not ever. Not if they didn't need to be changed, not if I had no idea how the change would come about. And certainly not if I thought that I was the one in the way of the change. That's ego, I know this. But the mind can't unsee what it already sees. Everyone around me saying this is what is happening. This is reality, and it is not likely to change.
It breaks my heart now to think yes, I was coming back to you, yes, I was feeling love, but that alone may never have been enough. The more you try to control these things and keep things from happening, the more in tune you are with those circumstances where it seems like they are just going to keep happening.
I loved her. Again & again, I fell out of love again and again, and each time it broke my heart because you never ever want to tell someone... you want to push yourself to feel what you know you have felt before. And so I tried to recapture the feeling I know she had, but I couldn't find it because what if I gave in again, and the same thing happened. Could I apologize for what I could not find, not like I thought she wanted, not like I thought she deserved? I only knew that I would expect the same and I floundered for that feeling again, desparate for that feeling again, which when it came felt so sweet, and at last, I could breathe again because all was in sync.
I understand caring and wanting the best for that person, and that never changed. Never. I still love her like that. I'm still full of the memories of the good, the sublime, the just being. All of those are good, and I have had that thought that if I could just capture that in a bottle everything would be alright. But I know that there is a deeper "alright" available, She was close many times, some times there, and I am so happy for her should she find that permanent. But it is temporary, we have to enjoy it while it lasts. It slips away, it ebbs, it flows. I'm glad she found the line at least. That is the best I could have hoped for. It's just that I know about the ebbs and flows, that is all. Sometimes it gets rough, but I have always made it through. Against the odds. The odds are normally most of us don't make it. But you spill your guts to some unknowing stranger whose become your friend, and it's like surgery. Thank God for putting people in my life. Thank God for putting her in my life. I miss her tremendously, not just as a lover but as a great friend. In the end, I think we did that for each other and I thank her for that. I know I did what I thought was right because I thought that I was in the way. And I was in the way, in the sense that it blinds you to what it's doing to you. You must resuscitate also. You must breathe. I still love that person I know is fully her. I still pray for the wounds-- all the wounds that lead up to where we are now-- to heal and that she rests easier in her own skin.
It breaks my heart now to think yes, I was coming back to you, yes, I was feeling love, but that alone may never have been enough. The more you try to control these things and keep things from happening, the more in tune you are with those circumstances where it seems like they are just going to keep happening.
I loved her. Again & again, I fell out of love again and again, and each time it broke my heart because you never ever want to tell someone... you want to push yourself to feel what you know you have felt before. And so I tried to recapture the feeling I know she had, but I couldn't find it because what if I gave in again, and the same thing happened. Could I apologize for what I could not find, not like I thought she wanted, not like I thought she deserved? I only knew that I would expect the same and I floundered for that feeling again, desparate for that feeling again, which when it came felt so sweet, and at last, I could breathe again because all was in sync.
I understand caring and wanting the best for that person, and that never changed. Never. I still love her like that. I'm still full of the memories of the good, the sublime, the just being. All of those are good, and I have had that thought that if I could just capture that in a bottle everything would be alright. But I know that there is a deeper "alright" available, She was close many times, some times there, and I am so happy for her should she find that permanent. But it is temporary, we have to enjoy it while it lasts. It slips away, it ebbs, it flows. I'm glad she found the line at least. That is the best I could have hoped for. It's just that I know about the ebbs and flows, that is all. Sometimes it gets rough, but I have always made it through. Against the odds. The odds are normally most of us don't make it. But you spill your guts to some unknowing stranger whose become your friend, and it's like surgery. Thank God for putting people in my life. Thank God for putting her in my life. I miss her tremendously, not just as a lover but as a great friend. In the end, I think we did that for each other and I thank her for that. I know I did what I thought was right because I thought that I was in the way. And I was in the way, in the sense that it blinds you to what it's doing to you. You must resuscitate also. You must breathe. I still love that person I know is fully her. I still pray for the wounds-- all the wounds that lead up to where we are now-- to heal and that she rests easier in her own skin.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
There was the suggestion that maybe a blog should have an end to it, and looking back on the 208 posts I've made on this blog, I think, since 2003, I find that a foolish proposition. Maybe it's a good one for other blogs in the future. Making them like smaller books or essays wrapped up into neat onion-like passages. Not this one though, the BR will carry on as it is. Even though I don't live close to the boulevard anymore. But discourse creates world and that world creates the discourse. Maybe this idea leads to a question, which I seldom ask of the blog- what is it its theme? what is its centralizing force? It is in fact what helps us become better writers. More exact in what we have to say.
I've nver liked the approach of exactitude as much because I enjoy the topos...I've also come to agree with Langan who once told me that it was a matter of writing for awhile before you really get to the inception. You need to get on a roll before you find the inspiration...
Possible avenues of explorability: 1) Denis Johnson Reexamination of the Sick-Soul.
Paper I wrote for Doctor Zacharias' class/
Also 2) need more information on EthicAd and FDA- pscyh drug advertisement requirements
3) investigate Yahoo careers- copyrighters'
4) stay on Hayneedle. Write to Leslie and see what is required-come up with writing sample
5)
I've nver liked the approach of exactitude as much because I enjoy the topos...I've also come to agree with Langan who once told me that it was a matter of writing for awhile before you really get to the inception. You need to get on a roll before you find the inspiration...
Possible avenues of explorability: 1) Denis Johnson Reexamination of the Sick-Soul.
Paper I wrote for Doctor Zacharias' class/
Also 2) need more information on EthicAd and FDA- pscyh drug advertisement requirements
3) investigate Yahoo careers- copyrighters'
4) stay on Hayneedle. Write to Leslie and see what is required-come up with writing sample
5)
Sunday, June 27, 2010
A Reaffirmation that I am not the Messiah.
no one's ever taken pictures of me
that I've ever truly been proud of
and deep in the heart, there's a hint
I've given to myself that I've never
done anything of which of a picture would be deserving,
all these near-misses, these second guesses,
thirty-three years and I'm reminded
of this man they call messiah, wonderer, god-hero,
who broke on the scene like the rolling stones,
chanting sermons and weaving strange tales
that made the magistrates wonder about their
foothold on the social order, all in a matter
of years, so the book says, eloquently,
and their fear of the cracks it spread
among the poor & the wounded had them
guessing the only way to shut off this flow
was to kll him somehow, maybe nail him to a board
on a hill, outside the skirts of a town,
while others watched, as a lesson to anyone
who was looking to raise the dead or flagging spirits.
To go forth gently into that mad science, you would
have to be a lunatic or convinced of your power,
not yielding to the cost, to the humiliation beset you,
not cowering in the wake of personal misery, this trudging
in the midst of possible failure, admirable
but seemingly stupid, & yet calling to mind something like envy.
They never knew about the permanence of a photograph,
a visual log that there was anyone here like you,
of you smiling or staring into the face of your persecutors,
I fought you, that picture says, and maybe you won,
but your victory is a spoil of the war raging
between humans, for the spirit of standing up,
that he could say I fought you, but I lived still as I did,
among you, in spite of you while I did. I withstood
the revolution of the heart, and there was nothing
to capture me in a magazine, doing remarkable things,
nothing like the nightly news, or a muffled cry
from behind a lens, urging on your ancestors from
a mystic void, hidden in a strange dark cavern
the only shelter from a desert of exile.
Sometimes this wilderness seems like something you seek,
but if you play it right, you're never in the wilderness,
or maybe it's just that I've not fought for this,
and I'm nothing like that man, who they say fought
his demons for forty days, because I'd not shown any
sign of staging coupe from any point, I'm not the photograph,
nowhere near possessed of the cannonball locked in my heart,
not even straining one moment to sling any arrows
except the arrows that already pierce the heart,
the age of our years should matter little, but what
we do with failure before it encompasses us with doubt,
over the question of how we've lived, wither its impact,
wither we've justified the hours spent in sun,
or that our skin was touched by humilty or dignity,
wther we contributed to a celebration of what happens
when we at last take on the glory of living in this skin.
no one's ever taken pictures of me
that I've ever truly been proud of
and deep in the heart, there's a hint
I've given to myself that I've never
done anything of which of a picture would be deserving,
all these near-misses, these second guesses,
thirty-three years and I'm reminded
of this man they call messiah, wonderer, god-hero,
who broke on the scene like the rolling stones,
chanting sermons and weaving strange tales
that made the magistrates wonder about their
foothold on the social order, all in a matter
of years, so the book says, eloquently,
and their fear of the cracks it spread
among the poor & the wounded had them
guessing the only way to shut off this flow
was to kll him somehow, maybe nail him to a board
on a hill, outside the skirts of a town,
while others watched, as a lesson to anyone
who was looking to raise the dead or flagging spirits.
To go forth gently into that mad science, you would
have to be a lunatic or convinced of your power,
not yielding to the cost, to the humiliation beset you,
not cowering in the wake of personal misery, this trudging
in the midst of possible failure, admirable
but seemingly stupid, & yet calling to mind something like envy.
They never knew about the permanence of a photograph,
a visual log that there was anyone here like you,
of you smiling or staring into the face of your persecutors,
I fought you, that picture says, and maybe you won,
but your victory is a spoil of the war raging
between humans, for the spirit of standing up,
that he could say I fought you, but I lived still as I did,
among you, in spite of you while I did. I withstood
the revolution of the heart, and there was nothing
to capture me in a magazine, doing remarkable things,
nothing like the nightly news, or a muffled cry
from behind a lens, urging on your ancestors from
a mystic void, hidden in a strange dark cavern
the only shelter from a desert of exile.
Sometimes this wilderness seems like something you seek,
but if you play it right, you're never in the wilderness,
or maybe it's just that I've not fought for this,
and I'm nothing like that man, who they say fought
his demons for forty days, because I'd not shown any
sign of staging coupe from any point, I'm not the photograph,
nowhere near possessed of the cannonball locked in my heart,
not even straining one moment to sling any arrows
except the arrows that already pierce the heart,
the age of our years should matter little, but what
we do with failure before it encompasses us with doubt,
over the question of how we've lived, wither its impact,
wither we've justified the hours spent in sun,
or that our skin was touched by humilty or dignity,
wther we contributed to a celebration of what happens
when we at last take on the glory of living in this skin.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
It is the right call for rest when the scorpion wields its stinger. Mania inevitably leads to depression. I push the edges of my happiness and find myself burned out on the very things that give me strength and the song "Pushit" by Tool came to mind. The only realization I have there, as strong a connection as I have to what that song seems to be really about, there is no one pushing me in any one direction....it just feels like people yank me in a certain direction when in reality, I only need to go where I really want to go...and yet, that's the struggle. You sort of test waters in certain arenas , and people within that arena are enthusiastic about your arrival. They say that they want you to come out with them and be part of their scene when in reality, you like to keep your distance because you think it affords you the benfit of judgement. Being objective, able to read a situation at its fullest zenith. Able to be accurate about your movements. And then there is alaso the element of freedom to back away or back out entirely.... but the battle is between the ears... you don't know what other people are thinking, you can't pretend to know what their thinking at all... but it is the very thing that consumes almost on a regular basis...
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Inside Looking Out. For Once & NOW.
You suddenly realize you are surrounded by this fellowship. Called so because they are brothers & sisters and they combine to make one big unit. Surrounded at the meeting today by some new acquaintances. People come to you for guidance, for support. You're like Red. You're a man who can get things. Now I've been trained by the universe to communicate with these people, to send them in the right direction. To tell them where to go, how to find what they are looking for. But for the same usual reasons, i can't manage these two who walk off in other directions. I don't lie. I tell the truth but there's always people who think you're ignorant, you don't know what you're talking about. I am the teacher, in this circumstance,, I have a job to do, and my job is not to be right all the time, but to not lead anyone too far astray. Avoid the satisfaction of being right, of needing to be right for pride sake. That is pride, and is short-lived. What purpose does it served. For every single thing I am correct about, there are thousands of other things, I would not know the answer to. But there seems to be a gain that can be had just from trying to live in the truth. It seems to eminate from itself. We don't know everything, I don't have the answers to everything, but I am making suggestions. My siggestions don't always pan out entirely. On the positive side of things, I am delighted to have Sylvester & Claudia learning along with me. They are very eager students, much like Josh & Mike were. And Rob. And Andrea & And Sam & Lisa & and the other two. They just wanted to exceed , do well, learn the lingo.
Let me be not bigger than who I am, let my mind not balloon farther than my body's limitations... let me not take for granted what has been granted me. Let me not belittle what talents I have, nor cast aside the good people & friends that have been shown to me through the grace of God. Let me be even eyed with the world so I can meet every challenge that is cast into my path...
You suddenly realize you are surrounded by this fellowship. Called so because they are brothers & sisters and they combine to make one big unit. Surrounded at the meeting today by some new acquaintances. People come to you for guidance, for support. You're like Red. You're a man who can get things. Now I've been trained by the universe to communicate with these people, to send them in the right direction. To tell them where to go, how to find what they are looking for. But for the same usual reasons, i can't manage these two who walk off in other directions. I don't lie. I tell the truth but there's always people who think you're ignorant, you don't know what you're talking about. I am the teacher, in this circumstance,, I have a job to do, and my job is not to be right all the time, but to not lead anyone too far astray. Avoid the satisfaction of being right, of needing to be right for pride sake. That is pride, and is short-lived. What purpose does it served. For every single thing I am correct about, there are thousands of other things, I would not know the answer to. But there seems to be a gain that can be had just from trying to live in the truth. It seems to eminate from itself. We don't know everything, I don't have the answers to everything, but I am making suggestions. My siggestions don't always pan out entirely. On the positive side of things, I am delighted to have Sylvester & Claudia learning along with me. They are very eager students, much like Josh & Mike were. And Rob. And Andrea & And Sam & Lisa & and the other two. They just wanted to exceed , do well, learn the lingo.
Let me be not bigger than who I am, let my mind not balloon farther than my body's limitations... let me not take for granted what has been granted me. Let me not belittle what talents I have, nor cast aside the good people & friends that have been shown to me through the grace of God. Let me be even eyed with the world so I can meet every challenge that is cast into my path...
Monday, May 17, 2010
It came down to a long shot in the ninth to put me back on top and put my team in the win column. Hard to believe really. We had built up a giant lead and it looked like we could coast on that lead for most of the night. We settled back talked shop, I was working on some property and north Texas, JD was working at a homeless shelter in his off time putting in his hours with kids. So we rambled on & on for the first couple innings...
So it would go something like that remarkable. I try to imagine what it's like to play ball day in and day out the highs and lows of a game which really has at its core, entertainment and big business. Tonight, I'm exploring new blogs which Rob Owens pointed out to me and boy am I glad that he did. Listening to a song right now by a group called Alcoholic Faith Mission. The thing is that I'll remember some bands by name, I'll remember some by their songs and others' will completely drop away. I dig these guys, they have a good name and solid beat and syncopation and of course, the lyrics are strong in the same way that Cloud Cult lead is, but yet they have a reverb on the vocals. Makes it so that it's not as strong but still strong enough to be unlike every other indie band that I've heard. Again, the names go a long way with me. Makes me think of life in another place, lived through another's eyes.
Today, I found my way into the UNO English graduate department through the front door. It looks like the best I can do for now is going to be take the sociolinguistics class from Dr. Mordaunt and then the Intro to Literary Research which as I understand will include a whopper right out of the gate. Maybe it is time for me to network within the ranks. I certainly want to get into this community a little bit though you realize the fear is always going to be that it's only temporary. Enjoy the company of those who like to think about what you think about while it lasts, because it certainly isn't forever is it. But it is a start, even if only a humble one at best.
So it would go something like that remarkable. I try to imagine what it's like to play ball day in and day out the highs and lows of a game which really has at its core, entertainment and big business. Tonight, I'm exploring new blogs which Rob Owens pointed out to me and boy am I glad that he did. Listening to a song right now by a group called Alcoholic Faith Mission. The thing is that I'll remember some bands by name, I'll remember some by their songs and others' will completely drop away. I dig these guys, they have a good name and solid beat and syncopation and of course, the lyrics are strong in the same way that Cloud Cult lead is, but yet they have a reverb on the vocals. Makes it so that it's not as strong but still strong enough to be unlike every other indie band that I've heard. Again, the names go a long way with me. Makes me think of life in another place, lived through another's eyes.
Today, I found my way into the UNO English graduate department through the front door. It looks like the best I can do for now is going to be take the sociolinguistics class from Dr. Mordaunt and then the Intro to Literary Research which as I understand will include a whopper right out of the gate. Maybe it is time for me to network within the ranks. I certainly want to get into this community a little bit though you realize the fear is always going to be that it's only temporary. Enjoy the company of those who like to think about what you think about while it lasts, because it certainly isn't forever is it. But it is a start, even if only a humble one at best.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
