Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Were I, Yesterday
Were my face a parchment, the ink would be blotted and smudged;
faded and folded and thumbed a million times over with worn edges that would fray into soft, fluffy tears but would fit so neatly in your palm and hold your place so sweetly in books.
Were my hand a clipper, calm waters (salt and sweet) would have been traversed;
sewn through winds and storms as needles through burlap and canvas and silk; it the hopeful vessel by which maps were inscribed using the stars as guides to new and haunting longitudes and latitudes and curvatures and currents.
Were my heart a chalice, broken would be the base with a strong and thick bowl; it would be chipped and faded; gold and glittering. It would tilt to-and-fro and spill and overflow and would find itself empty though, inexplicably, always have more to slake a thirst and give when the last drop was supposed to have been consumed.
Were today yesterday or the day before or last year there are a million things I would enjoy more and a million more I would hope I could improve upon.
Today is today and tomorrow is not guaranteed and, while I doubt and I regret, I am certain and I am effervescent. I believe there is good and that we must find it and we must make it.
Were I, yesterday, what I am today then I would not be today what I was yesterday and even if that means without you I will go on and I know you will too and I will love you and love you and love you.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
C.R.A.F.T. = Can't Remember A Fucking Thing
I don't believe, but I have a pretty good idea. --Dogma
I believe in nothing, everything is sacred; I believe in everything, nothing is sacred. --Tom Robbins
Things I have experienced...
...people usually have a lot of growing up to do and infinitely more than they will ever admit.
...one's mistakes often have their blame turned on those who were the innocent by-standers in the drive-by shooting of one's reality.
...more often than not, people don't see things from all the angles...they don't take into account all the outcomes and this results in surprise and disbelief, or worse: dogmatism. These people will never make good lawyers or philosophers, which essentially encompass everyone in one way or the other.
...love is a shifting thing that makes the recipient squirm and writhe, hopefully in undeniable passion.
...love doesn't ever die, it is either outweighed or manufactured (thereby being entirely a hoax).
...the road is long and arduous, but the walk is worth taking. Tear down all the signs.
...enjoy the things you have, and don't take the good things for granted. The cliche is absolutely infallible, and the result is rarely pleasant. This is the thing I struggle most with.
...letting people in sometimes ultimately results in achieving that phenomenon that people are always so desperately reaching for. No matter how much you tell someone, or how well they know or think they know you, only you can know what it all means. Spend life contemplating this when the mood suits you, but don't let it consume your life.
...live for you, and eat rich and wonderful food. There is some food that will make it all okay, and the ritual of eating is cathartic to say the least, even if it's pre-fabricated "body of christ" Jesus wafers...ritual and pursuit of truth is all.
...try not to regret. Appreciate your follies, don't let them make you fall.
...don't accept people for what they are if it is an excuse to be something you don't believe is good. Constantly question.
...there is always someone who will build you (in their minds) into something you're not. Run, these people are dangerous, annoying, and generally obsessive.
...nothing indicates ignorance like ignorant people will do, given the chance. Don't assume someone is anything based on anything other than their character.
...don't try to change people, don't let people change you and don't let people let you change them. If any of these things happen, get out like a ninja.
I believe in nothing, everything is sacred; I believe in everything, nothing is sacred. --Tom Robbins
Things I have experienced...
...people usually have a lot of growing up to do and infinitely more than they will ever admit.
...one's mistakes often have their blame turned on those who were the innocent by-standers in the drive-by shooting of one's reality.
...more often than not, people don't see things from all the angles...they don't take into account all the outcomes and this results in surprise and disbelief, or worse: dogmatism. These people will never make good lawyers or philosophers, which essentially encompass everyone in one way or the other.
...love is a shifting thing that makes the recipient squirm and writhe, hopefully in undeniable passion.
...love doesn't ever die, it is either outweighed or manufactured (thereby being entirely a hoax).
...the road is long and arduous, but the walk is worth taking. Tear down all the signs.
...enjoy the things you have, and don't take the good things for granted. The cliche is absolutely infallible, and the result is rarely pleasant. This is the thing I struggle most with.
...letting people in sometimes ultimately results in achieving that phenomenon that people are always so desperately reaching for. No matter how much you tell someone, or how well they know or think they know you, only you can know what it all means. Spend life contemplating this when the mood suits you, but don't let it consume your life.
...live for you, and eat rich and wonderful food. There is some food that will make it all okay, and the ritual of eating is cathartic to say the least, even if it's pre-fabricated "body of christ" Jesus wafers...ritual and pursuit of truth is all.
...try not to regret. Appreciate your follies, don't let them make you fall.
...don't accept people for what they are if it is an excuse to be something you don't believe is good. Constantly question.
...there is always someone who will build you (in their minds) into something you're not. Run, these people are dangerous, annoying, and generally obsessive.
...nothing indicates ignorance like ignorant people will do, given the chance. Don't assume someone is anything based on anything other than their character.
...don't try to change people, don't let people change you and don't let people let you change them. If any of these things happen, get out like a ninja.
C.R.A.F.T. Club Remix
One has not only an ability to perceive the world, but an ability to alter one's perception of it; more simply, one can change things by the manner in which one looks at them. --Tom Robbins
Birth and death were easy. It was life that was hard. --Tom Robbins
You should never hesitate to trade your cow for a handful of magic beans. --Tom Robbins
Real courage is risking something that you have to keep on living with, real courage is risking something that might force you to rethink your thoughts and suffer change and stretch consciousness. Real courage is risking one's cliches. --Tom Robbins
I have come to expect people to be treacherous and deceitful, although neither of these words properly describes it, because generally there is not a malicious intent behind their actions. I have come to expect this, but I never assume.
More things that I have learned...
...that the word "fickle" doesn't even begin to describe it.
...that no matter what your endeavors, there are things you need to have to decide if is something is really worthwhile or not: passion, desire, yearning, anticipation, wonder or outrage, amongst other things. If the thought of accomplishing this thing is not akin to the feeling you get when thinking for the first few times an unrealized fantasy of that new romance you're seeking...well, let's just say that it will probably end in divorce.
...time is both friend and foe. Time doesn't heal all wounds anymore than neosporin does, no matter what "they" say. Some things time will pacify, but the healing of those things is up to you.
...be a kid. Climb a tree. Play jumprope. Eat marshmallow goo until you puke. There is a reason we start out young and grow old until we die and not the other way around. Don't ever stop learning and don't ever forget who you are and where you came from.
...some boots are not made for walkin'.
...an old t-shirt can be good theropy, when used properly. I like to mix it with a good book, and then add a dash of sprawling for good measure.
...you will get hurt. Even if you tie yourself up in a sterile bubble, no space of your life or your heart is inpregnable. The best way to avoid being crushed by this is to realize it up front and know where those spaces are so nothing can hide and leap out at you later. The best way to do this is to always keep your eye patch in your back pocket and remember that there are still adventures out there.
...you can have an adventure at The White House, my house, your house, a crack house, Waffle House...and any of these things can potentially be dangerous too. I don't know about you, but I still want waffles.
...whimsy makes the world go 'round.
...to look, really look at things. Especially things you forget are there. If you look at something that has been in your house all your life long enough, eventually your brain will acheive the equivalant of retinal fatigue and it will be new and different in a way it never has been before. It makes every place you go new and full of ideas and hope and possibilities.
...being tired doesn't always mean you should go to sleep and being awake doesn't always mean you should do anything but lie about doing absolutely nothing.
Goodnight.
Birth and death were easy. It was life that was hard. --Tom Robbins
You should never hesitate to trade your cow for a handful of magic beans. --Tom Robbins
Real courage is risking something that you have to keep on living with, real courage is risking something that might force you to rethink your thoughts and suffer change and stretch consciousness. Real courage is risking one's cliches. --Tom Robbins
I have come to expect people to be treacherous and deceitful, although neither of these words properly describes it, because generally there is not a malicious intent behind their actions. I have come to expect this, but I never assume.
More things that I have learned...
...that the word "fickle" doesn't even begin to describe it.
...that no matter what your endeavors, there are things you need to have to decide if is something is really worthwhile or not: passion, desire, yearning, anticipation, wonder or outrage, amongst other things. If the thought of accomplishing this thing is not akin to the feeling you get when thinking for the first few times an unrealized fantasy of that new romance you're seeking...well, let's just say that it will probably end in divorce.
...time is both friend and foe. Time doesn't heal all wounds anymore than neosporin does, no matter what "they" say. Some things time will pacify, but the healing of those things is up to you.
...be a kid. Climb a tree. Play jumprope. Eat marshmallow goo until you puke. There is a reason we start out young and grow old until we die and not the other way around. Don't ever stop learning and don't ever forget who you are and where you came from.
...some boots are not made for walkin'.
...an old t-shirt can be good theropy, when used properly. I like to mix it with a good book, and then add a dash of sprawling for good measure.
...you will get hurt. Even if you tie yourself up in a sterile bubble, no space of your life or your heart is inpregnable. The best way to avoid being crushed by this is to realize it up front and know where those spaces are so nothing can hide and leap out at you later. The best way to do this is to always keep your eye patch in your back pocket and remember that there are still adventures out there.
...you can have an adventure at The White House, my house, your house, a crack house, Waffle House...and any of these things can potentially be dangerous too. I don't know about you, but I still want waffles.
...whimsy makes the world go 'round.
...to look, really look at things. Especially things you forget are there. If you look at something that has been in your house all your life long enough, eventually your brain will acheive the equivalant of retinal fatigue and it will be new and different in a way it never has been before. It makes every place you go new and full of ideas and hope and possibilities.
...being tired doesn't always mean you should go to sleep and being awake doesn't always mean you should do anything but lie about doing absolutely nothing.
Goodnight.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Snow Angels
In 1993, here in my home town of Chattanooga, there was an occurance unlike anything this small town had seen in some time (in most residents' lives, ever). That thing (laugh if you will) was snow. I mean big snow. If I remember correctly, we got three whole feet (again, laugh at me all you northern folk, I care not). I was nine at the time, and oh how we revelled and celebrated!
Needless to say, after the adults all got over the bread and milk buying, and the chains on the tires of the cars most people were too afraid to drive (they had chains though, damn it), there was much outdoor fun had by all the children who got to stay home from school that week. The first day of the snow, I remember going out into my back yard which, save a small court yard-ish area, is a big hill. My brother and I were pretending to be giant snow ants and burrow an efficient farm into the banks of the back yard when this group of strange teenagers came walking down the hill from the general driveway/road area of my parents'. They came, and they came armed to the teeth with various sleds. You can imagine the crazy joy that lept into my third grade heart.
Like a good little girl, I went inside and got my mom, and proceeded with the immediate campaign to allow my brother and I to join them in their sledding, since we were going to be letting them use our hill and all...after much debate, Mom went outside, talked to these mysterious teen folk, and it was on! They had this giant intertube, and sleds and whatnot, and it was wonderful. To this day, it is still one of my fondest childhood memories.
Nowadays I work in this bar that, for many, is very Cheers-esque. We have a lot of regulars who everyone knows and know everyone. There's this one guy, Marc, who I had chatted with a bit over the time that I have worked there. A couple weeks back, he came in and we were particularly slow, so I sat next to him at the bar and we talked for quite some time about lots of things. Conversation led to childhood and talk of things more innocent and pure, and we realized that we grew up not 5 blocks from each other which, of course, spawned lots of discussion about areas that we ran around causing mischief in and hiding and smoking and the like. As it turns out, he used to do some of that on my hill, before they tore down the house that used to be next to mine that was slowly sliding off the tunnels. Back when the house was still there, our hill was a good two feet shallower and had a sort of blocked-off tunnel that used to have trolley cars run through it a long time ago. These were all covered with bathtubs and sinks and other non-environmentally hazardous materials and then covered with tons and tons of dirt, hiding that grand little cave forever. I digress.
The Great Snowstorm eventually flurried it's way into our discussion and Marc began recalling what he did that first day. He told me about walking with his brother and friend to that place they always meandered about when the snow was gone and the ground was dry to find a perfectly unspoiled snow hill, just perfect for sledding, and then, to their surprise, these two little kids playing in the snow just above the hill's crest. Needless to say, my heart lept, and I couldn't help but interrupt him to exclaim, "That was me!"
Chattanooga is such a small, small town, and coincidences with past and present happen all the time, but this was something more special. This was something precious and pure, and to discover, unwittingly, that someone who was really faceless and yet strongly attached to an ovewhelming feeling of wonder and mystery and adventure had turned out to be just as unique and lovely as you'd ever imagined they'd be is truly a gem of past, present, and future. I am simply floored by the concept of it all.
Needless to say, after the adults all got over the bread and milk buying, and the chains on the tires of the cars most people were too afraid to drive (they had chains though, damn it), there was much outdoor fun had by all the children who got to stay home from school that week. The first day of the snow, I remember going out into my back yard which, save a small court yard-ish area, is a big hill. My brother and I were pretending to be giant snow ants and burrow an efficient farm into the banks of the back yard when this group of strange teenagers came walking down the hill from the general driveway/road area of my parents'. They came, and they came armed to the teeth with various sleds. You can imagine the crazy joy that lept into my third grade heart.
Like a good little girl, I went inside and got my mom, and proceeded with the immediate campaign to allow my brother and I to join them in their sledding, since we were going to be letting them use our hill and all...after much debate, Mom went outside, talked to these mysterious teen folk, and it was on! They had this giant intertube, and sleds and whatnot, and it was wonderful. To this day, it is still one of my fondest childhood memories.
Nowadays I work in this bar that, for many, is very Cheers-esque. We have a lot of regulars who everyone knows and know everyone. There's this one guy, Marc, who I had chatted with a bit over the time that I have worked there. A couple weeks back, he came in and we were particularly slow, so I sat next to him at the bar and we talked for quite some time about lots of things. Conversation led to childhood and talk of things more innocent and pure, and we realized that we grew up not 5 blocks from each other which, of course, spawned lots of discussion about areas that we ran around causing mischief in and hiding and smoking and the like. As it turns out, he used to do some of that on my hill, before they tore down the house that used to be next to mine that was slowly sliding off the tunnels. Back when the house was still there, our hill was a good two feet shallower and had a sort of blocked-off tunnel that used to have trolley cars run through it a long time ago. These were all covered with bathtubs and sinks and other non-environmentally hazardous materials and then covered with tons and tons of dirt, hiding that grand little cave forever. I digress.
The Great Snowstorm eventually flurried it's way into our discussion and Marc began recalling what he did that first day. He told me about walking with his brother and friend to that place they always meandered about when the snow was gone and the ground was dry to find a perfectly unspoiled snow hill, just perfect for sledding, and then, to their surprise, these two little kids playing in the snow just above the hill's crest. Needless to say, my heart lept, and I couldn't help but interrupt him to exclaim, "That was me!"
Chattanooga is such a small, small town, and coincidences with past and present happen all the time, but this was something more special. This was something precious and pure, and to discover, unwittingly, that someone who was really faceless and yet strongly attached to an ovewhelming feeling of wonder and mystery and adventure had turned out to be just as unique and lovely as you'd ever imagined they'd be is truly a gem of past, present, and future. I am simply floored by the concept of it all.
We Serve the Dead for Free
My dreams are long like epics to tell, so this will be long, feel free not to read it.
My dream began with my death. Other people had died before me, friends and the like. They were reaped ala Dead Like Me (in fact, if you watched the show, Rube was actually there). The difference was that some people, people who were close to you, could see you after you'd gone, until you crossed over into whatever it was that came next. So here I am, dead, but to many looking very much alive, save a glowing sort of blue smoke that would faintly rise up off my person, and invisible to the rest. Dying meant that I was supposed to be able to travel through people who couldn't see me, but that I could still manipulate things: pick them up, move them around, you know...haunt I suppose.
After I died, we quickly realized that something was amiss. Almost everyone could see me, and I wasn't "crossing" as quickly as I should have. So we wandered, trying to waste time and figure out what it was that was supposed to help me.
We were at this concert. We being Rube, James, a few others. The concert was smallish, and the band kept playing the same songs over and over again. It was a semi-stadium seating kind of set up. Rube seemed like he was far away. I kept trying to walk through people only to run into them, or poke them with my hands...even the ones that couldn't see me. I was sad and irritated. Rube asked me to go put this CD in up at the front, to the side of the stage, because we were all tired of listening to the band and since I was dead they ought not see me. I obliged, or tried I guess. Once I got to the stage, and to the CD player to the left of it, I went to put in the CD (incidentally, it was a Johnny Cash CD) and the two men sitting beside the stage looked at me and told me we'd already listened to that. They saw me because they were dead too. So I slunk back up to our seats to find everyone gone.
I wandered off. I went back to the school I was attending in my dream. I remember that there were these two craftsmen type teachers (I wouldn't call them professors) that had agreed to teach me to build these things. One of them was like a ship's wheel, and one of them was something else...sort of like a table top I guess, but that wasn't it's purpose. It was an intricate interlacing of thin strips of wood, but built over and over so that it was thick and round and solid. The guy that was teaching one of the classes was House...like from the show. Not Hugh Laurie, House. He was such a dick.
I went to the first teacher (not House) and he was talking to someone, he couldn't see me. This person was telling him I had died. He was crying. I tried to comfort him, but my hands passed through him and these two people just sort of hugged and mourned, and I couldn't do anything about it. I left. I went to go see House (whose name wasn't actually House in the dream, but I couldn't tell you what it was).
He was sitting at his desk, and I assumed that since the other teacher, who had cared for me very much, couldn't see me, neither would he. I walked right up and sat on the corner of his desk and looked at him. He looked back at me and asked me what I wanted. Startled, I told him that I was dead. "I know," he said. I was confused and trying to decide what to say next when he told me that he'd always wondered if ghosts could have sex. It was weird, I had had a crush on this "teacher" when I was alive, but it was never anything like that and of course I certainly didn't think that he would've said anything like that. I thought about it for a while and declined, and left. He followed me, telling me that maybe that was what I needed to do to move on, and whatnot. Then he went back, telling me I was stupid for not trying.
I went looking for everyone I knew. I ended up in this bar. Sarah was there, and she could see me. We drank (don't ask me how I drank), but I didnt' get drunk. The bar was full of ghosts and living people. The bar tender was making me these drinks that were clear, and then he'd pour these two colored liquids in them (burnt orange and deep blue) that would swirl about inside it like the innards of a marble. They were good. I was running a tab, and it dawned on me that I didn't have money. I went next door to this other bar that Sarah had meandered to for a bit. It was long, and opened right into the street, like some of the window bars in New Orleans. I found her and told her we had to leave, and we did.
Then we were in a Wal-Mart like place, and I had this sweet tea I was drinking. We were waiting in this infinitely long line, and this large black woman with curly hair was talking to us, she was nice. Something started chasing me. Sarah and I ran, and got into her car, which was a minivan. We drove, and then on the corner was that lady we had been talking to in the store. She was holding my cup of tea. I told Sarah to pull into the turn lane, jumped out, ran across the street, grabbed my tea, thanked her, and lept back into the car and drank some of the tea. The ice had melted and it was warm, so i threw it out the window once we were out of sight of the lady.
Then we were at this house in the woods...just beyond it's driveway. It was scary. I was supposed to be creeping up to it to take something and then something saw me, I started running away and kept tripping, and turned to look back at whatever it was that was chasing me...it was this pack of giant tigers. I just managed to get into the van and Sarah pulled off and the guy from the bar that was serving the marble shots was in the back seat. Startled, I turned and looked at him. He calmly looked back at me and said, "We serve the dead for free, but your friend has to pay." Sarah looked panicked and swerved, wrecked the car, and I saw light in the distance. I was floating out the window, tried to look back and couldn't see, and then light overtook me and I woke up.
My dream began with my death. Other people had died before me, friends and the like. They were reaped ala Dead Like Me (in fact, if you watched the show, Rube was actually there). The difference was that some people, people who were close to you, could see you after you'd gone, until you crossed over into whatever it was that came next. So here I am, dead, but to many looking very much alive, save a glowing sort of blue smoke that would faintly rise up off my person, and invisible to the rest. Dying meant that I was supposed to be able to travel through people who couldn't see me, but that I could still manipulate things: pick them up, move them around, you know...haunt I suppose.
After I died, we quickly realized that something was amiss. Almost everyone could see me, and I wasn't "crossing" as quickly as I should have. So we wandered, trying to waste time and figure out what it was that was supposed to help me.
We were at this concert. We being Rube, James, a few others. The concert was smallish, and the band kept playing the same songs over and over again. It was a semi-stadium seating kind of set up. Rube seemed like he was far away. I kept trying to walk through people only to run into them, or poke them with my hands...even the ones that couldn't see me. I was sad and irritated. Rube asked me to go put this CD in up at the front, to the side of the stage, because we were all tired of listening to the band and since I was dead they ought not see me. I obliged, or tried I guess. Once I got to the stage, and to the CD player to the left of it, I went to put in the CD (incidentally, it was a Johnny Cash CD) and the two men sitting beside the stage looked at me and told me we'd already listened to that. They saw me because they were dead too. So I slunk back up to our seats to find everyone gone.
I wandered off. I went back to the school I was attending in my dream. I remember that there were these two craftsmen type teachers (I wouldn't call them professors) that had agreed to teach me to build these things. One of them was like a ship's wheel, and one of them was something else...sort of like a table top I guess, but that wasn't it's purpose. It was an intricate interlacing of thin strips of wood, but built over and over so that it was thick and round and solid. The guy that was teaching one of the classes was House...like from the show. Not Hugh Laurie, House. He was such a dick.
I went to the first teacher (not House) and he was talking to someone, he couldn't see me. This person was telling him I had died. He was crying. I tried to comfort him, but my hands passed through him and these two people just sort of hugged and mourned, and I couldn't do anything about it. I left. I went to go see House (whose name wasn't actually House in the dream, but I couldn't tell you what it was).
He was sitting at his desk, and I assumed that since the other teacher, who had cared for me very much, couldn't see me, neither would he. I walked right up and sat on the corner of his desk and looked at him. He looked back at me and asked me what I wanted. Startled, I told him that I was dead. "I know," he said. I was confused and trying to decide what to say next when he told me that he'd always wondered if ghosts could have sex. It was weird, I had had a crush on this "teacher" when I was alive, but it was never anything like that and of course I certainly didn't think that he would've said anything like that. I thought about it for a while and declined, and left. He followed me, telling me that maybe that was what I needed to do to move on, and whatnot. Then he went back, telling me I was stupid for not trying.
I went looking for everyone I knew. I ended up in this bar. Sarah was there, and she could see me. We drank (don't ask me how I drank), but I didnt' get drunk. The bar was full of ghosts and living people. The bar tender was making me these drinks that were clear, and then he'd pour these two colored liquids in them (burnt orange and deep blue) that would swirl about inside it like the innards of a marble. They were good. I was running a tab, and it dawned on me that I didn't have money. I went next door to this other bar that Sarah had meandered to for a bit. It was long, and opened right into the street, like some of the window bars in New Orleans. I found her and told her we had to leave, and we did.
Then we were in a Wal-Mart like place, and I had this sweet tea I was drinking. We were waiting in this infinitely long line, and this large black woman with curly hair was talking to us, she was nice. Something started chasing me. Sarah and I ran, and got into her car, which was a minivan. We drove, and then on the corner was that lady we had been talking to in the store. She was holding my cup of tea. I told Sarah to pull into the turn lane, jumped out, ran across the street, grabbed my tea, thanked her, and lept back into the car and drank some of the tea. The ice had melted and it was warm, so i threw it out the window once we were out of sight of the lady.
Then we were at this house in the woods...just beyond it's driveway. It was scary. I was supposed to be creeping up to it to take something and then something saw me, I started running away and kept tripping, and turned to look back at whatever it was that was chasing me...it was this pack of giant tigers. I just managed to get into the van and Sarah pulled off and the guy from the bar that was serving the marble shots was in the back seat. Startled, I turned and looked at him. He calmly looked back at me and said, "We serve the dead for free, but your friend has to pay." Sarah looked panicked and swerved, wrecked the car, and I saw light in the distance. I was floating out the window, tried to look back and couldn't see, and then light overtook me and I woke up.
Girl
Long striding girl, wake up again. The concrete is not your friend.
Scented red traffic light medleys on nights like tonight: when the rain came in early afternoon and the heat from today baked the ground this evening.
Sweet, bent down girl, loosen your limbs. The mountains are not your friends.
Rising around like monsters and men, they make the horizon like knives and butter and soft warm rolls that remind you of home.
Silly strange girl, break in your guns. The outlaws can be your friends.
I remember the world when I thought it was good and worth being good in but now what I think of as good is prismatic and colored quite differently from before. Like socks with no matches, I try to remember how many you have to pull out to be guaranteed pureness. What was that again?
Beautiful dream girl, get over those men. The unworthy cannot be your friends.
Smaller times (like the light in tunnels) when self-proclaimed demigods would rattle and blow and puff up like they were organic in order to judge what was actually pure. Broken bits fell down to the ground and those who noticed were scared.
Recovering girl, bandage your wounds. The weak ones will fall down again.
Thoughts that drift and desire to fly, desire to flee and be free.
Long standing girl, wake up again. The concrete is not your friend.
Scented red traffic light medleys on nights like tonight: when the rain came in early afternoon and the heat from today baked the ground this evening.
Sweet, bent down girl, loosen your limbs. The mountains are not your friends.
Rising around like monsters and men, they make the horizon like knives and butter and soft warm rolls that remind you of home.
Silly strange girl, break in your guns. The outlaws can be your friends.
I remember the world when I thought it was good and worth being good in but now what I think of as good is prismatic and colored quite differently from before. Like socks with no matches, I try to remember how many you have to pull out to be guaranteed pureness. What was that again?
Beautiful dream girl, get over those men. The unworthy cannot be your friends.
Smaller times (like the light in tunnels) when self-proclaimed demigods would rattle and blow and puff up like they were organic in order to judge what was actually pure. Broken bits fell down to the ground and those who noticed were scared.
Recovering girl, bandage your wounds. The weak ones will fall down again.
Thoughts that drift and desire to fly, desire to flee and be free.
Long standing girl, wake up again. The concrete is not your friend.
The Land at My Back (A Fairy Tale)
Once upon a time there was a girl who was neither princess nor pauper. She spent her days at her chores or reading tales of times and places more grand than the one she was a child of. In her world and era life was dull and consistently average. There were no hiccups. There were no upheavals. There were no great celebrations of deeds even greater. There was only then and what needed to be done and planning for the day after and what needed to be done that day to make it to the next day and what needed to be done. She felt the monotony of this medocre life would someday smother her entirely. She was not unhappy, nor was she happy.
One day she decided, after much contemplation, that she would flee this land in search of the places with joy and rage, terror and awe, generosity and greed, to experience a world with passion. She would travel north.
Her journey had only just begun to toddle when she came to a crossroads. There she happened across a young man traveling towards that she had deserted. He bore packs and sword, food and poison, a smile and wariness in his eye. She looked into the face of this man and was quite taken with him.
"You do not wish your quest (surely great) to tread this road at my back. There is nothing behind me but a life of dull regularity. No excitement shall find you, brave traveler."
The man looked at her, clearly surprised and replied, "But, m'lady, that is precisely what I seek, for the land at my back, of which I once was king, is full of great treachery and peril all hours of every day, all the days of my life thusfar. The joys I experience are always shadowed by the coming of the next event and the uncertainty of what it shall hold; I travel south to a land more peaceful. A lady so fair as yourself surely would wish a life more safe and a world more certain than that at my back."
Each traveler looked past the other, contemplating what they had just learned and basking in the thought that what they each desired most was so close within their grasp. Neither knew what to say to the other and both wanted this exchange not to end second only to the desire to continue forward and discover that for which each had been longing.
Hesitant to abandon their crossroads but unwilling to change heart, they agreed that they would come back to the crossroads in one year's time to meet again and share tales of the life they had acquired. The young travelers looked once more into the face of the other and continued on their way.
A year passed and the crossroads had its visitors again. The man in burlap and cotton, though the twinkle had faded from his eye. The young woman was in linen and pearls, though her face was harder than before. They sat down on a blanket in a field near the crossroads to share what they had brought to eat.
"So," said the once-king, "is my former kingdom everything you had hoped for?"
After a brief silence, the girl spoke:
"I was jubilant when first I arrived and the things that passed were all grand and full of life and happening and wonder. As the days flew by, bustling with energy, I realized there was much dark behind them and did my best to avoid it. I fell in love, but the man that I thought was mine proved to be unsavory as I discovered I was not his only 'love.' I lived long in deep sorrow and decided not to be fooled again and have since spent my days in suspicion and defense."
The girl drank her wine in weary silence and looked into the west between the two worlds that she knew.
"And what of you?" She said when she broke her silence, "How does the land of bread and water suit you?"
The former king leaned back on his elbows and looked at the sky.
"My days are filled with the days before them, and the days to come, as I know each day will be just as the day before it, and the day after it."
The young travelers were stubborn and refused to return to the lives they had abandoned, but unhappy with the ones they had acquired, and came back each turning of the season to meet at the crossroads and share some good with one another.
One lovely spring, the girl reached the crossroads, uplifted and excited to see her love, only he wasn't to be found. She waited for a time and then began to walk through the fields beside her to relieve some of the anxiousness her love's tardiness had brought her, when she saw a little house. It occurred to her she was quite thirsty and decided to go to the house to ask for some water.
When she knocked on the door, it opened and there was her love, beaming at her. She threw herself into his arms, and asked him what he was doing in this little cottage at the crossroads.
"I have built us this house between the places neither of us belong. We shall belong here, we belong with one another and we will live how we wish!"
And they spent the rest of their days living with each other, with as much joy as anyone could wish, and each day different and more fulfilling than the one it followed, happily ever after.
~The End~
One day she decided, after much contemplation, that she would flee this land in search of the places with joy and rage, terror and awe, generosity and greed, to experience a world with passion. She would travel north.
Her journey had only just begun to toddle when she came to a crossroads. There she happened across a young man traveling towards that she had deserted. He bore packs and sword, food and poison, a smile and wariness in his eye. She looked into the face of this man and was quite taken with him.
"You do not wish your quest (surely great) to tread this road at my back. There is nothing behind me but a life of dull regularity. No excitement shall find you, brave traveler."
The man looked at her, clearly surprised and replied, "But, m'lady, that is precisely what I seek, for the land at my back, of which I once was king, is full of great treachery and peril all hours of every day, all the days of my life thusfar. The joys I experience are always shadowed by the coming of the next event and the uncertainty of what it shall hold; I travel south to a land more peaceful. A lady so fair as yourself surely would wish a life more safe and a world more certain than that at my back."
Each traveler looked past the other, contemplating what they had just learned and basking in the thought that what they each desired most was so close within their grasp. Neither knew what to say to the other and both wanted this exchange not to end second only to the desire to continue forward and discover that for which each had been longing.
Hesitant to abandon their crossroads but unwilling to change heart, they agreed that they would come back to the crossroads in one year's time to meet again and share tales of the life they had acquired. The young travelers looked once more into the face of the other and continued on their way.
A year passed and the crossroads had its visitors again. The man in burlap and cotton, though the twinkle had faded from his eye. The young woman was in linen and pearls, though her face was harder than before. They sat down on a blanket in a field near the crossroads to share what they had brought to eat.
"So," said the once-king, "is my former kingdom everything you had hoped for?"
After a brief silence, the girl spoke:
"I was jubilant when first I arrived and the things that passed were all grand and full of life and happening and wonder. As the days flew by, bustling with energy, I realized there was much dark behind them and did my best to avoid it. I fell in love, but the man that I thought was mine proved to be unsavory as I discovered I was not his only 'love.' I lived long in deep sorrow and decided not to be fooled again and have since spent my days in suspicion and defense."
The girl drank her wine in weary silence and looked into the west between the two worlds that she knew.
"And what of you?" She said when she broke her silence, "How does the land of bread and water suit you?"
The former king leaned back on his elbows and looked at the sky.
"My days are filled with the days before them, and the days to come, as I know each day will be just as the day before it, and the day after it."
The young travelers were stubborn and refused to return to the lives they had abandoned, but unhappy with the ones they had acquired, and came back each turning of the season to meet at the crossroads and share some good with one another.
One lovely spring, the girl reached the crossroads, uplifted and excited to see her love, only he wasn't to be found. She waited for a time and then began to walk through the fields beside her to relieve some of the anxiousness her love's tardiness had brought her, when she saw a little house. It occurred to her she was quite thirsty and decided to go to the house to ask for some water.
When she knocked on the door, it opened and there was her love, beaming at her. She threw herself into his arms, and asked him what he was doing in this little cottage at the crossroads.
"I have built us this house between the places neither of us belong. We shall belong here, we belong with one another and we will live how we wish!"
And they spent the rest of their days living with each other, with as much joy as anyone could wish, and each day different and more fulfilling than the one it followed, happily ever after.
~The End~
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