I actually relish the feeling of intense and immediate sadness, for the most bittersweet moment is when you first realize that all was for nothing, and all was lost. You can finally breathe and rest your tired heart and your tired soul. You can stop longing now, you can stop searching and hoping, the long hard wait is over. Time continues but the struggle is over. Your mind can stop playing its tricks. Your sleep will be undisturbed by pangs of emotion and flights of fancy, and only daydreams daydreams daydreams will remain.
People are nothing more than warm bodies to rub against, to project love and fantasy-filled worlds upon, to weigh down with your own heavy, heavy burden. How could you ask that of someone? What did you really think would happen?
If only the feeling of someone's warm body beside you wasn't such a treasure, such a rare rare prize to find and keep for yourself. If only there were things more important to you than feeling the gravitational pull of a body to yours. If only late nights were warm and full of hope, the promise of rooms hidden upstairs or something like that, again... maybe hearts would be stronger, made of steel, truly ready for what can happen.
Protect yourself. Protect what is sacred. You are the only one who can do that for you, and when you fail, no one else is to blame.
|me most of the time|
have been listening to:
Federico Mompou - Piano Music
Nikaido Kazumi (二階堂和美) - Mata Oto Shimashita Yo
Burial - Untrue, a forever kind of album
Lana del Rey
"are you listening to what i'm trying to tell you?" (Carbon Based Lifeforms)
"i feel nothing more than existence/this is not paradise" (Death in June)
Eddie Marcon - 綿の煙の招待状
i took a walk late in the evening after a storm had blown over and washed away my sins, but the storm was still raging behind deep and far away clouds. picture a sticky, humid, golden landscape of fallen-down trees, an unsure twilight and blackened, dampened streets. everything dripped and everything smelled ten times more like what it was, everything smelled like earth and with the absence of a downpour - as if the absence of the rain that just dominated everything for many miles around gave everything new meaning. walking on your squeaky flip-flops through the carnage, you notice everything is different, somehow. billions of lifeforms teeming in pools and fleshy green beds of leaves and stems and shoots and buds just had their entire systems of organization and order wiped and washed away. along the lush, dark forested areas thick armored foliage bulges out with dripping arms asking to be shaken and released of the shimmering droplet dress it has been adorned with. there is no sidewalk, no path. there are hidden areas you must keep away from, but you are pulled to them because the road isn't for you. you are in a jungle hidden right beneath the noses of those who live there in the giant white house, yet you fear nothing because everything that might harm you is just trying to recover now... the lake broods and buzzes with newly relocated life, and the sky is gently, sporadically pulsating with energy. you push the branches away and climb over any number of fallen branches to finally see what you had came all this way to see - an unadulterated view of the sky, brightened by a distant setting sun, colored by the final streaks of sunlight, clouded by the remnants of a fierce storm, and the electric light show playing behind dark still-brewing clouds. nothing can describe the power and the beauty and the immensity that i felt watching the sky. it was so at odds with itself, the beauty and the destruction, the power and the naivete. i wished nothing more than to melt into it and experience the most careless thing in the world, the most heartless, beautiful thing in the world, and be one with it.
and so, i rest my head in the lap of music, i give myself up to it, and that is all i can do. it melts with me and allows my sorrow, it welcomes it and lovingly embraces all of the jagged edges, renewing me to a self worthy of the most fantastical morning sunrise over fjords and cabins and hibernating bears.
please, God, let me live the most perfect dream life in a snowy cabin far away, and let me have all of the music i have ever wanted to fill up my ears so that i may never be empty again. AMEN.
What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.