Friday, January 26, 2007

5 Songs.

Jesus, don't cry. You can rely on me honey, you can combine anything you want. I'll be around, you were right about the stars. Each one is a setting sun

It's nice to open the blinds and see the streaks and rivers of rain paint patterns on the outside of the glass, framing my first view of the outside world on a morning full of promise. A promise of this: let every thought come today, and let each one craft shapes like clay, wet in your fingers, under your nails, caked on your skin those thoughts which live under it. I remember my High School Ceramics class, laugh at the thought of it being applied to a philosophical paragraph, and let the thoughts shape themselves. Don't press too hard, let the momentum craft the thought, let the rotation take you. Feel the grooves. Heh. I line each one on the window sill, and leave them to dry.

Two nights ago I sat opposite my oldest and best friend and watched tears well in his eyes as his frustration and passion burned in his speech, telling of that Inertia which curses the intelligent sometimes, the meaningless and loneliness of not feeling a part of the world around him. There was beer, vodka, jagermeister and cocaine. And it was plain to see, the way through for him was to numb numb numb birdy numb numb the helplessness.

And then a sentence I never thought I'd hear from him:

YOU lead the way. LEAD the way. Show me the way.

And if it was anyone else, I would've laughed and shrugged it off with a half arsed witty remark. But the bastard made me think, made me go home thinking, and made me feel an obligation, to both him and me. Okay you, okay. I fucking well will.

********

I'm so glad that my memories remote, 'cause I'm doing just fine hour to hour, note to note

The first step, I am finding, is almost Buddhist in nature. Learn to understand the moment, and live purely within it. A busy brain is oft a curse, and you live two or more concurrent lives as the physical life becomes one dimensional and the life within your head takes you elsewhere, anywhere, always somewhere else. The moment suffers here, don't you see? You no longer see the artistry of the water cascading down the glass on the window, you use it as a conduit to drift aimlessly and the streams of water trip streams of memory or hope and your eyes are glazed now and the facial contortions which come along for the ride blind you to what is real. What is real, is where you are right now. All thought is deception at that moment. So I exercise this, and stand out on the grass in the rain and let my feet feel the earth and my face feel the water and watch each drop float like a snowflake, a chubby snowflake, and from inside the house comes the sound of 5 songs, soundtracking my now. Fucking beautiful.

********

I don't know i didn't try with you, now the moon is bleedin' dry, the sun is weepy eyed, how did it come to this

Regrets, I've had a few. And here I almost write, "teehee" to lighten the meaning in that sentence, but I've grown some, and want to take it a little more seriously. Regrets, I've had a few. In the moment, face to the sky, arms outstretched, that thought slides by - a comet, and with it each and every regret trailing behind cold and dead across the universe within my mind. I feel each one and the pain within them and I let it go past and I leave my face turned up so that the water can work its gentle healing once they pass. Forgive yourself and every one from your present and past, or risk being locked within a prison of regret, and never able to move forward. I want to move forward. My friend asking me to lead the way, reminded me of exactly what I have. And the responsibility that comes with it.

********

Well, once we had an easy ride and always felt the same. Time was on our side and I had everything to gain. Let it be like yesterday. Please let me have happy days

Do you shave your pussy?

Yes.

Can I see?

Sure.

Mmm, hot. Now you too, I want to look at both pussies at the same time, one bushy and one shaved.

Okay.

Wonderful. Good times...good times....where have all the good times gone? Yeah!

********

Washboard Lisa, wash away your sins, let them go down the drain. Every time you move your dirty little hands, takes away our fears and our pain.

Nothing will ever change, all of this will continue forever, there is no moment of enlightenment, there is no drastic transmogrification from one form to another, a butterfly from a moth, a birthday or new year signaling a new beginning, there is only a straight line, from the beginning of you until the end of you. Of me. But I like me, and my unique trip baby, it's a fucking rollercoaster, it has the ingredients, it has the will, it's got the blues, it's got the flavour...it most certainly has the self indulgence...

Fuck I love the rain. I hope you can hear it where ever you are.

********

voices whine
skyscrapers are scraping,
your gravelly voice
is smoking
my last cigarettes
are all you can get
turning your orbit around

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