Thursday, October 27, 2011
::Hands::
The conditions of my conditioning lack focus. I am full of blurred lines and bottomless hope. I've never really gotten involved in anything. I have a talent for floating. I give the importance to others. I breathe when I am close and that breath gives the illusion of weight. I am a constant mover. I hover over many spaces at the same time ready at any moment to drop my hands. To fold at the table of life and of love because the illusion of freedom satisfies. Each breath becomes a dance. The bluff, the mask, the conversation, the dream.
I play with a full deck that tends to switch suits. The jokers are wild and I become flush with fools and foolishly I hold this hand steady. I give myself the room to be tempted to make the quick decision. I give myself the room to make the wrong choice. I give myself the permission to take the easy way out. I lick my lips and smile. Put on my bravest face and gingerly excuse myself from the table. I decide I don't like the game. The pace is too slow. The chatter of the other players grates the nerves or feels like an anchor of complications too heavy to chain myself to.
I've been known to champion the losing odds. To stay on ships faithfully when I know they are built to sink. I carry the foolish knack for wasting time, or losing time because I can lose myself so easily. If I breathe deeply enough I'll get lost in the sound and tempo of the air. I can watch the ocean and become it for awhile. I can turn away and pull you into me all at the same time. There are all these feelings. They flow like rivers burnt by the past. The mistakes that sunk deep and scarred, the things I chose instead, the things I can never forget, the armor I decorate fresh and fully everyday.
These feelings dance like my own shadow. The faint flicker of movement I try to hide myself in. Worlds of words and emptiness with so much promise. I paint myself in the colors of the flame. I pull the blue center out and blanket myself in it's center. As my pulse rushes the heat begins create something bigger. Something that isn't just mine anymore. I feel myself choosing. I hear myself say Yes! Yes I choose you...I can have you...Yes. The word echoes as I spark all over. The taste of skin soaked in fantasy spreads behind my eyes. I lay glazed in lacy moods and purity. The purity of the this me.
This me full of desires. This me that's wanting to be close. The one that wants something bigger that isn't just mine to choose. I shiver and shrink. My impulses can lead me into things I can't forget. There are things I can barely remember that become whispers on my frame. Lightly stinging the spaces between my fingers because I held the wrong cards so long they've sliced clean through. I can be my own trick. I move in dreams as currency, like breathing, they are my existence and my home. I seek out the real experience. I am attracted to it's flux and unsteadiness. I let it see me. I stand in front of it a smiling mirage. I am so light and uninvolved and delicate like the candles flame. I let it choose me.
Choices are made quickly. I wrap myself up in the experience. My body soaks in every word, breath, heartbeat until I am so deeply inside the shape of things I can almost get lost in it. I heat up with fever and the desire for more. It is here where I get nervous. I look around for that solitary space where I can see the idea of freedom at all times. I look for the window as things begin to flare up. I hastily throw it open and let all the cold air fill this shape with distance. I look for reasons to drop my hands, to disappear, to pull away.
The joker is wild. The wild card is unpredictable. The space to love gets clouded by you and me and everything else that has happened before we were anything. Before we were bodies in the same room, or conversations on the telephone line. I spend most of my life passing time with nothing and no one. I live with the shades and shadows of myself like branches on a tree. I can separate from each and every part at anytime and I let all this happens now. I twist and turn away because I want to burn. I want to get lost in the flames and forget all I have ever learned, all I have ever been and all these games I have overplayed.
I realize that yes, I can want you. Yes, you can be something. Yes, we can do this. I don't know how to drop my hands. I don't know how to handle the heat or let myself be fully involved. I don't know how to be in the space for loving and not try to make my own separate space at the same time. I am tired of all my company. The nothing and no ones I pass my time with. I have to pull myself out of the shade and just let something happen. Something bigger than myself can happen and it won't just be up to me choose. It won't just be mine...it will be something new. It will be OURS.
I play with a full deck that tends to switch suits. The jokers are wild and I become flush with fools and foolishly I hold this hand steady. I give myself the room to be tempted to make the quick decision. I give myself the room to make the wrong choice. I give myself the permission to take the easy way out. I lick my lips and smile. Put on my bravest face and gingerly excuse myself from the table. I decide I don't like the game. The pace is too slow. The chatter of the other players grates the nerves or feels like an anchor of complications too heavy to chain myself to.
I've been known to champion the losing odds. To stay on ships faithfully when I know they are built to sink. I carry the foolish knack for wasting time, or losing time because I can lose myself so easily. If I breathe deeply enough I'll get lost in the sound and tempo of the air. I can watch the ocean and become it for awhile. I can turn away and pull you into me all at the same time. There are all these feelings. They flow like rivers burnt by the past. The mistakes that sunk deep and scarred, the things I chose instead, the things I can never forget, the armor I decorate fresh and fully everyday.
These feelings dance like my own shadow. The faint flicker of movement I try to hide myself in. Worlds of words and emptiness with so much promise. I paint myself in the colors of the flame. I pull the blue center out and blanket myself in it's center. As my pulse rushes the heat begins create something bigger. Something that isn't just mine anymore. I feel myself choosing. I hear myself say Yes! Yes I choose you...I can have you...Yes. The word echoes as I spark all over. The taste of skin soaked in fantasy spreads behind my eyes. I lay glazed in lacy moods and purity. The purity of the this me.
This me full of desires. This me that's wanting to be close. The one that wants something bigger that isn't just mine to choose. I shiver and shrink. My impulses can lead me into things I can't forget. There are things I can barely remember that become whispers on my frame. Lightly stinging the spaces between my fingers because I held the wrong cards so long they've sliced clean through. I can be my own trick. I move in dreams as currency, like breathing, they are my existence and my home. I seek out the real experience. I am attracted to it's flux and unsteadiness. I let it see me. I stand in front of it a smiling mirage. I am so light and uninvolved and delicate like the candles flame. I let it choose me.
Choices are made quickly. I wrap myself up in the experience. My body soaks in every word, breath, heartbeat until I am so deeply inside the shape of things I can almost get lost in it. I heat up with fever and the desire for more. It is here where I get nervous. I look around for that solitary space where I can see the idea of freedom at all times. I look for the window as things begin to flare up. I hastily throw it open and let all the cold air fill this shape with distance. I look for reasons to drop my hands, to disappear, to pull away.
The joker is wild. The wild card is unpredictable. The space to love gets clouded by you and me and everything else that has happened before we were anything. Before we were bodies in the same room, or conversations on the telephone line. I spend most of my life passing time with nothing and no one. I live with the shades and shadows of myself like branches on a tree. I can separate from each and every part at anytime and I let all this happens now. I twist and turn away because I want to burn. I want to get lost in the flames and forget all I have ever learned, all I have ever been and all these games I have overplayed.
I realize that yes, I can want you. Yes, you can be something. Yes, we can do this. I don't know how to drop my hands. I don't know how to handle the heat or let myself be fully involved. I don't know how to be in the space for loving and not try to make my own separate space at the same time. I am tired of all my company. The nothing and no ones I pass my time with. I have to pull myself out of the shade and just let something happen. Something bigger than myself can happen and it won't just be up to me choose. It won't just be mine...it will be something new. It will be OURS.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
::S.O.S.::
We are all a body. Just one unit made of pieces and parts, contrasts and simplicity. One heart, one set of lungs, one brain, one design. Each part covers another. Each supports the whole or the sum of itself interdependently. We move ourselves, our real selves independent of our bodies. Our complexities float above our body. We associate the heart with love and feeling, loss and breakage. Our stomachs are where our cravings and hungers rumble. The instruments of our sex spurn us forward desirously but our bodies are simple. A simple untimed step can lead to paralysis. A twist in the wrong direction can pop a vertebrae. Following the wrong sorts of cravings can lead to heart, liver, or venereal disease. We are built like antiques. We can improve and white wash and restructure ourselves, but we are all built of the same bulk. The same bones hold the same joints that are covered in the same skin we keep for however long our lives will be.
I am in my body although I don't usually live in it. I float through the worlds beyond what holds me to the here and now. I am fragments encased in skin with nerves that tick and twitch. In my structure I try to make the right choices. Eat healthy, minimize my general risk, do what's right. I am both grand and slight in demeanor. My body lean, long limbed, fluid. I appear taller than I am. I hold attentions longer than most. I pull people towards me intimately. I live my real life in the interior world. I see bodies and bumps, but have my eyes fixed on the spaces beneath. I am intense. I am liquid. I am watching.
I coil and uncoil myself. Wrapping in and up around my heart's center. I try to make the right choices. Hold tightly, release, live and let live. I try to see the possible. I try to honor the now. I try to escape the body's pangs. I get smaller. I begin to shrink in my skin. I know choices must be made before this world disappears. This world created with silk and promise. The promise becomes a prison, the prison becomes a lie, and if I look really closely all I see are the bare bones that cover a shivering heart.
The body is a prison. It reflects no light. It can't stay warm on it's own. It isn't self sustaining. We live our real lives virtually unaware of our bodies unless they are failing us. If we don't see the shape we want to see in the mirror, if we are in pain, or miss the skin we had yesterday. We fall prey to it's limitations. We get tired, overstimulated, underdeveloped. We have hopes that we will endure. That today's troubles will melt away tomorrow if we rest. We hope that the ideals we set can be achieved with by doing what seems right.
Love becomes a prison. It isn't well lit. It can't manage to keep itself warm. It doesn't self sustain. It moves from the point of importance and becomes a process. A set of choices made based on the best of intentions: love purely, move forward, and just let it be become the proverbs written in the veins. The hands reach out and touch multitudes of skin cells, and bodies, and comfort foods a day. We look for this food, or fuel and deeper still we are looking for a jolt.
Something to deepen the breath and create the ease we crave in our bodies. That place to put all our good intentions while we process our pasts and our presents in the sea of movement and ignorance. I like the intimacies. I live for the unguarded moment. I am irrational. I can be attracted or repelled and that's where I begin. The silent movement of my body towards or away from an experience. I try to make the right choices. Follow your heart, be patient, be aware. I am a slave to the moment. I use my body as an instrument. I wrap my long limbs around what is appealing and let it take me further.
I make the choice to dream. I dream myself forward and backward on the wave of what is temporary yes. It's quick, it's intense, it's wonderful, and it's nothing. I betray my prisoner's heart for a dream. I watch my body get smaller and I don't like it. I want bigger things and fuller pleasures. This world made of silk and promise is drying up. It's light begins to dim, it grows cold, and it isn't made to self sustain. The angels sing to it now. They play their synths and trumpets but dare not make it rain.
Like Atlantis it's body becomes too heavy to stay afloat. It is overflowing with thought forms and the unresolved fragments of a world built on the best of intentions in a body too small to hold up the mass. It will sink. It will disappear. It won't be forgotten and one day it will be discovered again. The silken threads cleared away and columns standing tall on the right kind of foundation for a future complex. Maybe then we will have new bodies and we'll give the angels a reason to sing again. The synths and trumpets play out their funereal ballads. The songs wash over the land once know as Eden that must be left behind.
The ideal choices hurt no one. The best choices tend to lean to the right. The right choices can sometimes leave one totally empty, but in the space that's left behind we can fill ourselves again. Find new reasons to love. Find ourselves new foods and fuels and better cravings. Our bodies are simple but they are ours. Ours to sink or swim with and I want to start swimming again. I just want to swim.
.
I am in my body although I don't usually live in it. I float through the worlds beyond what holds me to the here and now. I am fragments encased in skin with nerves that tick and twitch. In my structure I try to make the right choices. Eat healthy, minimize my general risk, do what's right. I am both grand and slight in demeanor. My body lean, long limbed, fluid. I appear taller than I am. I hold attentions longer than most. I pull people towards me intimately. I live my real life in the interior world. I see bodies and bumps, but have my eyes fixed on the spaces beneath. I am intense. I am liquid. I am watching.
I coil and uncoil myself. Wrapping in and up around my heart's center. I try to make the right choices. Hold tightly, release, live and let live. I try to see the possible. I try to honor the now. I try to escape the body's pangs. I get smaller. I begin to shrink in my skin. I know choices must be made before this world disappears. This world created with silk and promise. The promise becomes a prison, the prison becomes a lie, and if I look really closely all I see are the bare bones that cover a shivering heart.
The body is a prison. It reflects no light. It can't stay warm on it's own. It isn't self sustaining. We live our real lives virtually unaware of our bodies unless they are failing us. If we don't see the shape we want to see in the mirror, if we are in pain, or miss the skin we had yesterday. We fall prey to it's limitations. We get tired, overstimulated, underdeveloped. We have hopes that we will endure. That today's troubles will melt away tomorrow if we rest. We hope that the ideals we set can be achieved with by doing what seems right.
Love becomes a prison. It isn't well lit. It can't manage to keep itself warm. It doesn't self sustain. It moves from the point of importance and becomes a process. A set of choices made based on the best of intentions: love purely, move forward, and just let it be become the proverbs written in the veins. The hands reach out and touch multitudes of skin cells, and bodies, and comfort foods a day. We look for this food, or fuel and deeper still we are looking for a jolt.
Something to deepen the breath and create the ease we crave in our bodies. That place to put all our good intentions while we process our pasts and our presents in the sea of movement and ignorance. I like the intimacies. I live for the unguarded moment. I am irrational. I can be attracted or repelled and that's where I begin. The silent movement of my body towards or away from an experience. I try to make the right choices. Follow your heart, be patient, be aware. I am a slave to the moment. I use my body as an instrument. I wrap my long limbs around what is appealing and let it take me further.
I make the choice to dream. I dream myself forward and backward on the wave of what is temporary yes. It's quick, it's intense, it's wonderful, and it's nothing. I betray my prisoner's heart for a dream. I watch my body get smaller and I don't like it. I want bigger things and fuller pleasures. This world made of silk and promise is drying up. It's light begins to dim, it grows cold, and it isn't made to self sustain. The angels sing to it now. They play their synths and trumpets but dare not make it rain.
Like Atlantis it's body becomes too heavy to stay afloat. It is overflowing with thought forms and the unresolved fragments of a world built on the best of intentions in a body too small to hold up the mass. It will sink. It will disappear. It won't be forgotten and one day it will be discovered again. The silken threads cleared away and columns standing tall on the right kind of foundation for a future complex. Maybe then we will have new bodies and we'll give the angels a reason to sing again. The synths and trumpets play out their funereal ballads. The songs wash over the land once know as Eden that must be left behind.
The ideal choices hurt no one. The best choices tend to lean to the right. The right choices can sometimes leave one totally empty, but in the space that's left behind we can fill ourselves again. Find new reasons to love. Find ourselves new foods and fuels and better cravings. Our bodies are simple but they are ours. Ours to sink or swim with and I want to start swimming again. I just want to swim.
.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
::Messages::
The flaring of signals does beam unintentionally. The body moves in unspoken language. It invites to hold while it makes a place that is safe and solid. A kiss involves an open mouth surrounding and enveloping anothers. Messages are sent across the lines the tongue draws from your mouth to the theirs. We move, we breathe, we hold then release and as love envelopes each and every pacing there still is one true thing steadily communicated: it's all an illusion.
We're here today, tomorrow, and next week. Opportunities to pull close are ever present as we pull away. I hold true and fast to my systemic beliefs. I live unfazed by the gamble. I hold true because I have one line of sight. One target alone that matters in my heart space. The messages are pumped through me with my blood. It keeps the spark even when the bombs are going off in my head, stomach, and telephone line. Is this what being a romantic is? The ability to sacrifice all logic for an ideal? I never knew I was this capable of ignoring so many things. That they wouldn't matter as they would have before. But there is one thing being sent through the airwaves: it's all temporary.
I'm here today, tomorrow, and next week. I hold myself out unselfishly because I have nothing to lose from where I am. This building allows shifts in the blueprint. There is still room for this in my plans. There is still space to carry on in my heart. The calender days turn one after the other. Each filled with newness and decision scripted onto the plan. I feel myself surround myself cocooning. If I focus on transformation and creating will everything be different? Will I wake up one day with new organs, new capacities for feeling, new flesh? Will there be an awakening in the world outside myself that clicks inside my new skin? I hear the steady buzz through the power line that says you are mine. We are here and together and building something magical. Static electricity crackles at my hairline whispering: it's all uncertain.
And it is...and you are...and our circumstances may be so, but my heart pumps different songs that my blood keeps singing. Forming this new flesh, new organ, new capacity involves trusting. Trusting in the things I feel, and am building. The unspoken languages held inside the body are my volumes and I read them over as the calender days turn today, tomorrow, and next week. Singular in focus and with one target in mind I beam myself out unselfishly in trust while the bombs go off in my head, stomach, and network line. I hold true to the ideal...romantically.
We're here today, tomorrow, and next week. Opportunities to pull close are ever present as we pull away. I hold true and fast to my systemic beliefs. I live unfazed by the gamble. I hold true because I have one line of sight. One target alone that matters in my heart space. The messages are pumped through me with my blood. It keeps the spark even when the bombs are going off in my head, stomach, and telephone line. Is this what being a romantic is? The ability to sacrifice all logic for an ideal? I never knew I was this capable of ignoring so many things. That they wouldn't matter as they would have before. But there is one thing being sent through the airwaves: it's all temporary.
I'm here today, tomorrow, and next week. I hold myself out unselfishly because I have nothing to lose from where I am. This building allows shifts in the blueprint. There is still room for this in my plans. There is still space to carry on in my heart. The calender days turn one after the other. Each filled with newness and decision scripted onto the plan. I feel myself surround myself cocooning. If I focus on transformation and creating will everything be different? Will I wake up one day with new organs, new capacities for feeling, new flesh? Will there be an awakening in the world outside myself that clicks inside my new skin? I hear the steady buzz through the power line that says you are mine. We are here and together and building something magical. Static electricity crackles at my hairline whispering: it's all uncertain.
And it is...and you are...and our circumstances may be so, but my heart pumps different songs that my blood keeps singing. Forming this new flesh, new organ, new capacity involves trusting. Trusting in the things I feel, and am building. The unspoken languages held inside the body are my volumes and I read them over as the calender days turn today, tomorrow, and next week. Singular in focus and with one target in mind I beam myself out unselfishly in trust while the bombs go off in my head, stomach, and network line. I hold true to the ideal...romantically.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
::Brevity::
All things get cut short. A phone call you desperately want to have is interrupted. A meeting you wished last forever was just a passing greeting. A moment for deep breathing is cut short by activity and the heaving of the moment. Each day there are strings being pulled forward and back in the spaces inside my mind. The thoughts are constantly cascading above and below one and other. I try to keep my stays short. I do slip and crave the extended moment. The fuller caress. The dream tongue to lick back my wounds and set me free. Each day is full of activity and things to do that must be done here, there and everywhere.
I try and keep the pace. I take the short quick step down the street. The short breathing exercise. The short kiss. The body want to lay out and stretch itself into daydreams of absence and totality. I'm still moving now. I let my fingers hit the keystrokes with a short quick step here, there and everywhere. I am still moving now. Dressing for another night out of body and into bassline. The dance will silence the mind. It's focus as lost as I am in the rhythm. The strobe lights will spread the pathway out and all I have to do is release myself fully. To be carried and caressed by the fullness of music and the quick step through experience.
I try and keep the pace. I take the short quick step down the street. The short breathing exercise. The short kiss. The body want to lay out and stretch itself into daydreams of absence and totality. I'm still moving now. I let my fingers hit the keystrokes with a short quick step here, there and everywhere. I am still moving now. Dressing for another night out of body and into bassline. The dance will silence the mind. It's focus as lost as I am in the rhythm. The strobe lights will spread the pathway out and all I have to do is release myself fully. To be carried and caressed by the fullness of music and the quick step through experience.
Friday, October 7, 2011
::Moon Day 11::
An opening was made today. The day moved forward as it does. Begins with the early morning haze that breaks into the afternoon's activity. I spend my days walking. It is my profession. As I moved down streets and corners of being a newness struck me like a rattlesnake bite. The posture raises, the head tilts upward and I move my eyes to meet the world. I smiled at everyone that smiled at me. Stopped to say hello to some neighborhood passers and moved up further. I extend my spine fully and reach my hands out of the space I am in: this loving space transformed by moon magic
I spend my day falling in love with the world. The world I know closely, the world I barely know, and the world I may never even meet are were all my closest loves. I make time for surface changes. I make the moves through the coils of the telephone, through leading a movement, through not compromising. I let myself soak in the smells and laughter of others. I let their voices and personalities become part of my daily meditation. I find the time to really be myself. I use new energy to be inspired by. I eat little because I am so full. Full of hope and silver moods.
I will spend the night just as active. Inviting the world to come dance with me. To meet me somewhere between the beat and the bassline and let everything else fall away. Tonight you will be with me. You will be on my arm. You will be the love of my life if only for a moment. The world and you can have all 32 flavors tomorrow. Tonight you are all mine to love without restraint or pressure or past. There is only one now. This is only one night. I invite you to strip everything away and be in this loving space with me made by the moon's magic tonight.
I spend my day falling in love with the world. The world I know closely, the world I barely know, and the world I may never even meet are were all my closest loves. I make time for surface changes. I make the moves through the coils of the telephone, through leading a movement, through not compromising. I let myself soak in the smells and laughter of others. I let their voices and personalities become part of my daily meditation. I find the time to really be myself. I use new energy to be inspired by. I eat little because I am so full. Full of hope and silver moods.
I will spend the night just as active. Inviting the world to come dance with me. To meet me somewhere between the beat and the bassline and let everything else fall away. Tonight you will be with me. You will be on my arm. You will be the love of my life if only for a moment. The world and you can have all 32 flavors tomorrow. Tonight you are all mine to love without restraint or pressure or past. There is only one now. This is only one night. I invite you to strip everything away and be in this loving space with me made by the moon's magic tonight.
::Mirror Imaging::
Light is reflected and pushed forward in time. We blink. An image is seen. Behind the looking glass we stare with longing at the image of ourselves we long to see, and may not yet be. In love we become each other's mirror. We force each other to face the things we lack by focusing on the same traits in our others. Human beings are not intrinsically healthy. We strive for goodness, cleanness, well being but we are ragers. Our baser instincts are sharp and intelligent. We grab at straws, build intricate defense strategies and when things get extremely difficult we huff, and puff, and blow down anything that seems to be in our way.
Mirrors take on different hues once they are broken. The two major halves are splintered by reflection. One turns inward and seeks to repair the damage by strengthening it's foundation. The other side vacillates. It dives into the experience of being separate and what else can pass before it's unshielded eye. In between the bed of solitude and the bed of plenty is a communication. The heart stirrings still pluck and pulse, unsevered but marred. The experience of one does not outweigh the many. Hungers turn the mind way spinning. The mirror ball reflects and refracts each attempt and deliverance. Each crack forms the line like a map. The many begin to form a territory that seems impossible to to come back from. The island of lost boys and men has a scent and appeal of it's own. It tempts with the available and new. It needs to be charmed and tricked and experimented with.
The other half stays true. It does it's dailies and flexes it's mind muscles full of ideas and support. It believes that giving and loving and being are enough to show itself deserving of connection. It's map is full with purpose and it's one fixed point invites the other into it. It calls. It smiles with stillness and says, "Join me..." Prismatic is the world of the lovers. There must always be two. There must always be a communion. There must always be a joining. Between them is a promise made like a map. It passes the outer skin and sits deep in wait. It cycles the blood and lays it's seeds through their bodies.
Human beings are intrinsically complicated. The simplest motion of extending the hand, leaning in for a kiss, making declarations becomes a universe of questions. Within that universe lies two sides of a broken mirror. Each side makes itself a map. A landscape of experiences to strengthen the soul or self in seperation. A new chip in the surface leads the breath to sigh with relief or tighten in anxiety.
The lovers aren't intrinsically easy to make out. There are always two. There is always a communion of opposites. There is always a joining. Between them there a promises. Deeper beneath them in the blood is the ability to betray. The blood is quick. It must keep flowing and moving. As these cells regenerate their own map the conflicts are created right beneath the surface. The eyes stare out into the looking glass with longing. Longing to see the future we desire but we may never truly have. The solitary imaginer walks himself across the connection lines with nothing more in his hands than the promises between them.
Mirrors take on different hues once they are broken. The two major halves are splintered by reflection. One turns inward and seeks to repair the damage by strengthening it's foundation. The other side vacillates. It dives into the experience of being separate and what else can pass before it's unshielded eye. In between the bed of solitude and the bed of plenty is a communication. The heart stirrings still pluck and pulse, unsevered but marred. The experience of one does not outweigh the many. Hungers turn the mind way spinning. The mirror ball reflects and refracts each attempt and deliverance. Each crack forms the line like a map. The many begin to form a territory that seems impossible to to come back from. The island of lost boys and men has a scent and appeal of it's own. It tempts with the available and new. It needs to be charmed and tricked and experimented with.
The other half stays true. It does it's dailies and flexes it's mind muscles full of ideas and support. It believes that giving and loving and being are enough to show itself deserving of connection. It's map is full with purpose and it's one fixed point invites the other into it. It calls. It smiles with stillness and says, "Join me..." Prismatic is the world of the lovers. There must always be two. There must always be a communion. There must always be a joining. Between them is a promise made like a map. It passes the outer skin and sits deep in wait. It cycles the blood and lays it's seeds through their bodies.
Human beings are intrinsically complicated. The simplest motion of extending the hand, leaning in for a kiss, making declarations becomes a universe of questions. Within that universe lies two sides of a broken mirror. Each side makes itself a map. A landscape of experiences to strengthen the soul or self in seperation. A new chip in the surface leads the breath to sigh with relief or tighten in anxiety.
The lovers aren't intrinsically easy to make out. There are always two. There is always a communion of opposites. There is always a joining. Between them there a promises. Deeper beneath them in the blood is the ability to betray. The blood is quick. It must keep flowing and moving. As these cells regenerate their own map the conflicts are created right beneath the surface. The eyes stare out into the looking glass with longing. Longing to see the future we desire but we may never truly have. The solitary imaginer walks himself across the connection lines with nothing more in his hands than the promises between them.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
::Hope::
I ride on hope the way most people ride roller coasters. Cash in my doubts at the ticket window and jump into my seat. I sit unrestrained as the the motor runs. The chains click, I hold onto the handle bars and close my eyes for a second. As I breathe, I wish upon all the stars that unfold behind my eyes. I can see the future. My carnival trick lays out the webbing of the hope spectrum. I move here and there across the netting. Taking my steps cautiously on the line. Tightrope tap dancing between my ability to believe. To believe in the future I crave. To believe in that prized wishing apple that might have a poison center but I still can't wait to take a bite. If time is the revealer, and if it's truth leads me to whatever prize lies at the end of each turn I will take that time. Time to let the world inside grow. I'll know that things are shifting when I'm tall enough to get on the big kid rides and take a spin. They say everyone is a winner when you spin The Wheel of Fortune. Does fortune favor the blind? I close my eyes and make those wishes on all the twinkling lights inside. I spin that wheel, cross my fingers and toes, and hope.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
::The Endless::
We assume the human mind is kinetic. That in our skulls all the electric matter within are profundities with potential beyond measure. We use very little of our actual brains but somehow in that limited territory we are engrossed. The proverbial wheels turn, and like a hamster we dive deep to run the wheel. Following cycles and cyclical experiences because that is what we know. We leave situations and are attracted to ones very similar, or we do the reverse and look for anything and everything but what and where we last were.
In our minds the self that exists is fluid. We know who we are but constantly war against it. We want to be very similar to what we see as appealing to us, or we do the reverse and look for anything and everything but who we are. The heart, in the metaphorical sense is the arena we credit with our fuller humanity. The softer curves of being are tempered by goodwill and love. It is the metaphoric seat of the soul and of emotions. I never realized how endless emotions really are. This endlessness is a capacity. The capacity to freeze time. To freeze life. To freeze one's love. I never really knew how endless feelings were until I promised myself I would keep so many open ended. Most days the dream is enough. Most days the little bits of conversation and touch are fuel enough to steel my wool. To propel me forward.
Today is not one of those days. The heart does ache. The body does want. The hours do turn. Waiting a minute is brief. Waiting a day is like breathing each one will pass over and over and over again. But some moments the endlessness surrounds all the corners of the room like bars. The walls begin to whisper as the chest tightens. In this place right now I feel it. The moment. The moment I can almost not make it through because I know human beings aren't endless. We are here and we are gone in seconds. I can promise a year, and perhaps it will be just like breathing. The time will just rise and fall away unnoticed.
I can promise forever, but I can't freeze my circumstance. I have very little claim on the territory I operate from. Today I know who you really are. Today I know what I really want. The heart clicks and clamps like a jaw that's sticking. I flex it, breathe into it and release the endlessness. I can be a forever but I can't make it last for two, and so forever gets shorter everyday. The shadows grow taller and I let myself climb the shade trees to the light. Love blind sure, but not forever. It's the moment that seems hard to get through when I know where you are and what you choose. I roll out of my cycle and look for the light at the horizon. I'm love blind sure, but not forever.
In our minds the self that exists is fluid. We know who we are but constantly war against it. We want to be very similar to what we see as appealing to us, or we do the reverse and look for anything and everything but who we are. The heart, in the metaphorical sense is the arena we credit with our fuller humanity. The softer curves of being are tempered by goodwill and love. It is the metaphoric seat of the soul and of emotions. I never realized how endless emotions really are. This endlessness is a capacity. The capacity to freeze time. To freeze life. To freeze one's love. I never really knew how endless feelings were until I promised myself I would keep so many open ended. Most days the dream is enough. Most days the little bits of conversation and touch are fuel enough to steel my wool. To propel me forward.
Today is not one of those days. The heart does ache. The body does want. The hours do turn. Waiting a minute is brief. Waiting a day is like breathing each one will pass over and over and over again. But some moments the endlessness surrounds all the corners of the room like bars. The walls begin to whisper as the chest tightens. In this place right now I feel it. The moment. The moment I can almost not make it through because I know human beings aren't endless. We are here and we are gone in seconds. I can promise a year, and perhaps it will be just like breathing. The time will just rise and fall away unnoticed.
I can promise forever, but I can't freeze my circumstance. I have very little claim on the territory I operate from. Today I know who you really are. Today I know what I really want. The heart clicks and clamps like a jaw that's sticking. I flex it, breathe into it and release the endlessness. I can be a forever but I can't make it last for two, and so forever gets shorter everyday. The shadows grow taller and I let myself climb the shade trees to the light. Love blind sure, but not forever. It's the moment that seems hard to get through when I know where you are and what you choose. I roll out of my cycle and look for the light at the horizon. I'm love blind sure, but not forever.
Monday, October 3, 2011
::Serenity Days::
For the past month(and that's a literal 4 weeks) I've made Mondays my serenity day. I take everything nice a slow. Don't rush to work, don't rush on the street and basically let everything be as eased as possible. Of course, every Monday this month has proved challenging to say the least. From broken hearted moments, to conversational conflicts, to having payroll checks bounce and going into the red with the bank account(to point out a few unfavorables) I still try to make my Mondays less manic and more fluid. I let all those divisionary lines get blurry and less intense. I try not to go off on huge tangents and get derailed stressing the stuff that may cause a panic or anxiety reaction but is still just the small stuff I can't control.
I take yoga every Monday now. As the weeks have gone on I notice that after every class there is just this general confidence in yourself and the world that gets created. Like a secure and solid seat forms somewhere between your heart and your stomach and you can rest there comfortably. No matter what maybe flying over head and into your arena. Perhaps the more we strive for peace we get faced with these divergent energies. Perhaps they are sent our way to test our mettle or to strengthen those emotional muscles that tend to turn downward. Instead of all the fretting and fighting we'd normally do, we can kind of find that seat and operate from there.
Fun little fact: Monday basically translates to "Moon Day". I'm a big believer in symbology and making certain things significant. I chose Mondays for serenity days because of my affinity to the moon. Besides being a Moon in Cancer(if you aren't an astrology follower feel free to roll your eyes, I know it's not for everyone), I am definitely a lunar sensitive. So the tides and phases effect me directly and kind of shift me sharply. Perhaps that's what I am to focus on. That when all these life tides keep shifting highly over my head, are crashing sharply into my heart, or knocking me sideways I know I am still intact. I'm still mobile and able to push myself up. Maybe that's what we call "progress" and if it is maybe it's more significant than I give it credit for.
I take yoga every Monday now. As the weeks have gone on I notice that after every class there is just this general confidence in yourself and the world that gets created. Like a secure and solid seat forms somewhere between your heart and your stomach and you can rest there comfortably. No matter what maybe flying over head and into your arena. Perhaps the more we strive for peace we get faced with these divergent energies. Perhaps they are sent our way to test our mettle or to strengthen those emotional muscles that tend to turn downward. Instead of all the fretting and fighting we'd normally do, we can kind of find that seat and operate from there.
Fun little fact: Monday basically translates to "Moon Day". I'm a big believer in symbology and making certain things significant. I chose Mondays for serenity days because of my affinity to the moon. Besides being a Moon in Cancer(if you aren't an astrology follower feel free to roll your eyes, I know it's not for everyone), I am definitely a lunar sensitive. So the tides and phases effect me directly and kind of shift me sharply. Perhaps that's what I am to focus on. That when all these life tides keep shifting highly over my head, are crashing sharply into my heart, or knocking me sideways I know I am still intact. I'm still mobile and able to push myself up. Maybe that's what we call "progress" and if it is maybe it's more significant than I give it credit for.
::Octobering::
::Events I'd Like to Make it To::
*WOAHMONE- Weds. Oct. 5th*
*Bedlam Presents: Fruits of the Loom- Thurs. Oct. 6th*
*Trash! at Webster Hall- Fri. Oct. 7th*
*E.J.'s Bday and Bowling Night- Sat. Oct. 8th*
*Ladytron Show- Sat. Oct. 8th*
*Ladytron Afterparty- Sat. Oct. 8th*
*Y Gallery Salon Opening Party- Thurs.- Oct.13th*
*The Crystal Ark/Light Asylum/Ghe20 G0thik- Thurs. Oct.13th*
*B's Birthday- Sat.- Oct. 15th*
*Spank|LIVE- Sat. Oct. 15th*
*Zola Jesus- Weds. Oct. 19th*
*Go-Go Gig@ Trash! at Webster Hall- Fri. Oct. 21st*
*G's B-day- Sat. Oct. 22nd*
*Halloween- Oct. 31st*
*WOAHMONE- Weds. Oct. 5th*
*
*
*
*Ladytron Show- Sat. Oct. 8th*
*
*Y Gallery Salon Opening Party- Thurs.- Oct.13th*
*The Crystal Ark/Light Asylum/Ghe20 G0thik- Thurs. Oct.13th*
*
*Spank|LIVE- Sat. Oct. 15th*
*Zola Jesus- Weds. Oct. 19th*
*Go-Go Gig@ Trash! at Webster Hall- Fri. Oct. 21st*
*G's B-day- Sat. Oct. 22nd*
*Halloween- Oct. 31st*
Sunday, October 2, 2011
::Sundays::
It takes knowing that making big change starts with the smallest things: making your bed everyday so you don't get tempted to lay back in it. Eating your meals to keep your brain and body fuel going. Making a concerted effort to breath. Clearing your space. Setting basic daily objectives and tasks to complete, making the grocery list if you will. Somewhere between getting light bulbs and buying fruit you put saving money and getting new backdrops for the photo shoots you want to do in the next month. You put the big ideas between the small things you have to do to keep them fresh and yourself out of the dream closet. Dreams are one the greatest mind gifts and tricks we have.
You move through them in waves, and inside them anything and everything is possible. You watch yourself accomplish so much in the blink of an eye and it does satisfy. But you put your hand inside your pocket and on your grocery list it says: wake up and get the dog's food. Turn left and put money in the bank. Stretch your arms up and get to work. You have to be able to afford the cellphone bill and the food you like to eat. I live for my dreams, but I'd like to expand on my grocery list.
I'd like to find ways to make those little everyday things as extraordinary as the big dreams I have. If I can make the everyday more extraordinary, then when the not so everyday comes rolling in; when the unusual, or fortuitous come knocking just imagine how that would feel. On days like Sunday when the general pace is slow, lazy, restful. Where it's time to do laundry, and pull in as much calm as we can before the week starts again I am looking at the everyday as a place for extraordinary things to happen in the smallest of ways doing the smallest of things.
You move through them in waves, and inside them anything and everything is possible. You watch yourself accomplish so much in the blink of an eye and it does satisfy. But you put your hand inside your pocket and on your grocery list it says: wake up and get the dog's food. Turn left and put money in the bank. Stretch your arms up and get to work. You have to be able to afford the cellphone bill and the food you like to eat. I live for my dreams, but I'd like to expand on my grocery list.
I'd like to find ways to make those little everyday things as extraordinary as the big dreams I have. If I can make the everyday more extraordinary, then when the not so everyday comes rolling in; when the unusual, or fortuitous come knocking just imagine how that would feel. On days like Sunday when the general pace is slow, lazy, restful. Where it's time to do laundry, and pull in as much calm as we can before the week starts again I am looking at the everyday as a place for extraordinary things to happen in the smallest of ways doing the smallest of things.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
::The Promises::
* Be single and celibate for 3 months
* Do what's uncomfortable but necessary
* Stick to pursuits
* Finish Projects
* Wear more red
* Read more
* Focus on writing
* Post love songs
*Devote some of my time to making time with "YOU"
* Call(not text) at least one friend a day
* Compliment someone or something at least once a day
* Make space for the new while honoring the old
* Walk the talk
*Tell "YOU" something honest and different everyday
* Love! Even if it's foolish and amounts to being on my own in the end, love anyway. Do it grandly and openly.
*Change my view on the value of money
*Tell "YOU" that I love you everyday
*Be vulnerable and exposed when it's called for
*Support the people in my life as much as I can
*Find something to be inspired by everyday
*Dream, think and act BIG
*Cultivate stronger associations
* Do what's uncomfortable but necessary
* Stick to pursuits
* Finish Projects
* Wear more red
* Read more
* Focus on writing
* Post love songs
*
* Call(not text) at least one friend a day
* Compliment someone or something at least once a day
* Make space for the new while honoring the old
* Walk the talk
*
* Love! Even if it's foolish and amounts to being on my own in the end, love anyway. Do it grandly and openly.
*Change my view on the value of money
*
*Be vulnerable and exposed when it's called for
*Support the people in my life as much as I can
*Find something to be inspired by everyday
*Dream, think and act BIG
*Cultivate stronger associations
::The Premise::
Sometimes it takes a crisis. Sometimes someone has to lose something of great import before they hit the proverbial wall. It can take a crisis before you reach that level of self uncomfortableness that causes you to really have that moment. That moment where you sit with yourself and realize...really wake up and say: I can't live like this anymore. I can't be this person. For some of us change comes easier...with no loses or irreparable damage. I am not so lucky. About a month ago I overworked myself, overextended myself in every possible way and sort of backed myself into an emotional corner. This was nothing new to me because it's been a pattern my whole life, or at least for the past 15 years. I take on a lot of unnecessary things and then don't give myself much of a break. I begin to make impulsive decisions: overspending, dropping important commitments, cutting people off or out of my life impulsively...not very cool behavior.
In the process of, I cut the closest person to me out of my life on a whim...on sheer impulse...on basic level fear. The moment I really felt the loss it all sunk in. My denials, my fears, my armor, my illusions and ultimately the way I have been choosing to live my life for so long. I am a dreamer which most people would say isn't a bad quality, but I ghost through my life. Never making any full on commitments or touching down to stake a claim on something bigger and better. I've been okay for so long, and that's not a bad place to be but it's not good, it's not striving to be better, it's not growing.
So over the past month I've made some pretty decent strides in my life to build it and me up...to try and stake that claim on my life and do something with it. This blog was one of the ideas that sprung from all the exploring and introspection. It is my catalog of change. My goal holder. My memory pool. It's called the 365 Day Promise because I am giving myself an entire year to change what is fundamental in my life and really set myself moving on a path to creating the life for myself I really want to live. That's the big goal. There is a dream within that goal as well. The dream is that I can show the person I so foolishly gave up that they are loved consistently, that I want to be better for us, do better, love better and create a life for myself that is good enough for them to be a part of again.
I am a dreamer and a huge romantic, and I suppose someone has to do those love blind things that fuel the stories for romantic comedies and the romance novels out there, so in this I will be a fool for love. I know dreams don't always come true, but I'd be glad in knowing that they've felt a true and honest love from me whether or not they choose me in the end. I will forever be grateful to them for being my "epiphany relationship" no matter what happens.
And here it all begins. Today, I begin the journey...to drop my illusions and conditioning and let reality, truth, and love be my tools for transformation. Today I make the biggest commitment I can to my life and lay it all out there. It is today.
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