I guess she only missed it for a moment.
And I fall for it every time, because I miss it always.
January 31, 2015
January 28, 2015
January 25, 2015
your dreams all blue
I hate dreaming. My brain affords me no peace during the day and no respite at night. I dreamt about a moment of intimacy. I don't mean sex. I mean an intimate moment when you're lying next to your lover and you're inches apart staring into their eyes and in love with their face, speaking, laughing, happy, communing. I dreamt about a lot of other things too, but they're too detailed and wild and I don't care to relive them in words right now.
Yesterday I only had one good thought. I was watching something and then all the sudden I thought about a moment, I daydreamed a moment that never was but that my body aches to be. I felt myself coming home to her. I came through the door and she was on the couch. With her beautiful feet in socks, her legs curled up and her smile giving meaning to my day. I sat next to her on the couch and indulged in that intimate stare, admiring her eyes and her face. We smiled at each other for long lingering seconds and then I enthusiastically said, "I missed you." And she knew I meant it and it warmed her. And so we were both warm, together, and we felt the electric heat as our fingers intertwined. We sat on the couch embraced in the warm glow of our love as though it were an infinite fireplace.
---
"The one you chose was wrong.
He will only brush away and paint your dreams all blue.
I know it won't be long.
A bridal flower crushed 'neath his unloving shoe.
The sun refused to shine.
You hold the lies you sold yourself.
Still you clutch an ancient relic, a holy fragment of the truth.
There's a burning need for the wealth
of a settled life to calm the spirit of unsettled youth.
The sun refused to shine.
Yes, the sun refused to shine."
---
I need a joke.
Yesterday I only had one good thought. I was watching something and then all the sudden I thought about a moment, I daydreamed a moment that never was but that my body aches to be. I felt myself coming home to her. I came through the door and she was on the couch. With her beautiful feet in socks, her legs curled up and her smile giving meaning to my day. I sat next to her on the couch and indulged in that intimate stare, admiring her eyes and her face. We smiled at each other for long lingering seconds and then I enthusiastically said, "I missed you." And she knew I meant it and it warmed her. And so we were both warm, together, and we felt the electric heat as our fingers intertwined. We sat on the couch embraced in the warm glow of our love as though it were an infinite fireplace.
---
"The one you chose was wrong.
He will only brush away and paint your dreams all blue.
I know it won't be long.
A bridal flower crushed 'neath his unloving shoe.
The sun refused to shine.
You hold the lies you sold yourself.
Still you clutch an ancient relic, a holy fragment of the truth.
There's a burning need for the wealth
of a settled life to calm the spirit of unsettled youth.
The sun refused to shine.
Yes, the sun refused to shine."
---
I need a joke.
January 17, 2015
Great Moments In 19th Century Literature
A powerful passage from Russian author Leo Tolstoy's final novel, Resurrection, which I've been reading for some time:
"One of the most widespread superstitions is that every man has his own special definite qualities: that he is kind, cruel, wise, stupid, energetic, apathetic, and so on. Men are not like that. We may say of a man that he is more often kind than cruel, more often wise than stupid, more often energetic than apathetic, or the reverse; but it would not be true to say of one man that he is kind and wise, of another that he is bad and stupid. And yet we always classify mankind in this way. And this is false. Men are like rivers: the water is the same in one and all; but every river is narrow here, more rapid there, here slower, there broader, now clear, now dull, now cold, now warm. It is the same with men. Every man bears in himself the germs of every human quality; but sometimes one quality manifests itself, sometimes another, and the man often becomes unlike himself, while still remaining the same man."
Most of the time I feel like a narrow, slow, dull cold river. I have memories of flowing rapid, broad, clear and warm, but they are only memories, quietly being buried under the settling dust of the riverbed.
"One of the most widespread superstitions is that every man has his own special definite qualities: that he is kind, cruel, wise, stupid, energetic, apathetic, and so on. Men are not like that. We may say of a man that he is more often kind than cruel, more often wise than stupid, more often energetic than apathetic, or the reverse; but it would not be true to say of one man that he is kind and wise, of another that he is bad and stupid. And yet we always classify mankind in this way. And this is false. Men are like rivers: the water is the same in one and all; but every river is narrow here, more rapid there, here slower, there broader, now clear, now dull, now cold, now warm. It is the same with men. Every man bears in himself the germs of every human quality; but sometimes one quality manifests itself, sometimes another, and the man often becomes unlike himself, while still remaining the same man."
Most of the time I feel like a narrow, slow, dull cold river. I have memories of flowing rapid, broad, clear and warm, but they are only memories, quietly being buried under the settling dust of the riverbed.
January 12, 2015
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