January 2010 Archives
Things were different. I guess they will be different again. In the moment, though, time seems askew. These empty hours stretch and fade...then rise again. Nothing to do but keep walking through this now.
I'm still shocked by how much is gone. The deep fullness of this shining Sunday is lush, beautiful. Outside me. My empty places are like blank spots in the landscape. Don't know if they will ever be filled back in.
It's a long walk, from now to tomorrow.
LIstening to Julia Brown sing, "Ayn Rand" through my headphones. Sipping red wine, rolling my head around, unkinking my neck. Closing my eyes makes the music bigger.
I am tired. It's black and cold out there. Ah, Saturday.
"It is better to break one's heart than to do nothing with it." - Margaret Kennedy
Started the day with a Merlot dream, alluring and strange. Poured out the hours at work (started in snow; ended in black cold, collar of my pea coat up). My eyes are tired, now. The house is quiet. Don't feel very great but learned today that I'm off tomorrow. Sleeping in could be good.
Odd music, in earphones. A beer so cold it makes me shiver. The second hand blinking around, dialing deeper. Feeling absence and the contours of empty. A neurochemical geography. You could build a black house and live in that ashy landscape. The shadows, there, would be white.
Missed you so much, today. Pointless to express it. A black mirror.
It feels late; but it is not. I could sleep -- but haven't stirred the motivation to fall, yet. I need to change. Guess I have changed already. I need to change more.
Tired, though. Echos of that velvet dream still lingering. Ghosts of hours piled-up behind me. Thursday, tumbling away.
Let it go.
Sorrow is like a vintage wine from a fine vineyard, full of nuances and subtleties. It cellars well, so you'll always have it for a rainy day.
I remember being bright in the body. Young and strong. Wild sun drying Atlantic water in my long hair. Sinking like liquid gold through my skin. I remember seeing, sharp. Feeling the beat of my heart.
I remember walking up to a floor-to-ceiling window, looking out on The Strip. Lights flowing, music lifting my gaze. Glory and time flowing out in all directions.
I remember the first kiss ever. Her blue eyes, her gold hair.
Rain and coffee, speaking truth by green water. I remember that. I remember dancing in an industrial club, hot and blurring. The curves of her flesh. Gold glimmering, dark eyes. Guitars, like landscapes.
I remember the beat of your heart. Holding your hand.
Memories, looking up into a rain so deep that it blinded me, made me feel like I was breathing under water. Music, thundering. All in me, like an echo that extends over decades.
As a child: Running, on the twice-forked path, in the woods. Fast. Faster. So fast I could dream of flying. Dreams tinted green by sunlight washing through shifting leaves. Ambient light growing brighter.
It pours out, an overwhelming abundance. I'm just on the skin of the world -- and all this. Much more than I can express. The "rush of your lips"...followed by silence. Extending. How do I contain all this? What does it do to me? Just on the surface, here. A blink. The beat of your heart.
The beat of your heart.
The beat of my heart.
Had a dream, this morning, about the sensation of extreme cold feeling warm. View that as deeply symbolic, almost smack-me-upside-the-head obvious. Kind of falling apart at the moment. Losing so much. I know it is annoying to hear about it over and over. I don't care that much. I'm writing this for me. To get it out. Better it falls to ashes externally, than within. Finishing the last of the Blue Moon. Did a shot of Patron to commemorate my disassembly. Guess I'll try to rebuild. Don't know why. Maybe it's just momentum...or reflex. Probably doesn't matter, one way or the other. Wish I knew a foreign word for something so cold that it feels hot.
How I wish it had actually been true.
Continually amazed at my capacity to feel worse.
Blank as the winter sky.
It doesn't matter.
Just a moment ago, I thought I'd go and talk with my Mom for a while. It seemed perfectly reasonable and matter-of-fact. For a second, I'd totally forgotten that she was gone. How can that be? I guess I know.
I woke, blank and aching this morning. Fairly disconnected. Other than showering, eating and paying some bills, I've done nothing constructive.
Was mourning my other lost relationship, earlier. Remembering how nice it was to just sit with her and talk. I haven't spoken much at all today. Strange, how attenuated the hours get. They almost vanish.
Had a glass of Shiraz and watched a movie. It was short. I may watch another. I've opened another bottle of red, as well. I'm off tomorrow. No connection to the wine (other than the color) but I remember Audrey Hepburn's character talking about the "mean reds" in, Breakfast at Tiffany's. I don't have those, but I understand that kind of thing a lot better now.
It's very quiet here.
My muscles are sore, tired. Toes are cold. Not a lot of light in here. I can't think of anything that I'm really looking forward to. Sadness is like a garden. Dark flowers, everywhere. I miss...everything. Happiness is a mountain.
i would like to be optimistic, hopeful. filled with excitement, looking ahead at the possibilities. i would like to be free, full of energy and...happiness.
but i am none of that.
the daylight is pouring out of the weekend, the house is mostly dark -- and i have never felt worse.
2009 was hard. Lost a lot. My wish is for brighter days in 2010, for everyone.
Here's to Life, Love, Happiness and Health.
Happy New Year.
