never a brittle wintertime

Don't Take My Sunshine Away
Sparklehorse
listen

your face is like the sun sinking into the ocean
your face is like watching flowers growing in fast motion
all your kisses i swallowed
brightened mornings and hollows
my vines and tree knots will come unwound

baby you are my sunshine
my sunshine
please don’t take my sunshine away

the grounded fireflies are little stars that are dying
returning to the earth i can hear them crying
like christmas bulbs that i swallowed
slept in a tree that’s gone hollow
and never a brittle wintertime

baby you are my sunshine
my sunshine
please don’t take my sunshine away

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Between my last post and now, the bittersweet balance tilted a bit... with the bitter overshadowing and overwhelming the sweet. Or perhaps the sweet just took a leave of absence, along with my sunshine.

November was a difficult month.

I discovered this quote at the beginning of December:

"The world is not respectable; it is mortal, tormented, confused, deluded forever; but it is shot through with beauty, with love, with glints of courage and laughter; and in these, the spirit blooms."

~ George Santayana

It's true. I am fortunate to still have the "glints", and to recognize and appreciate them when they occur. I still have moments when my spirit blooms, and for that I'm grateful.

I just wish that along the way , my sunshine hadn't been taken away, especially in the way that it was.

Quickly. Without explanation. Without my request, input or voice. Leaving me feeling very much mortal, tormented, confused and deluded.

Clarity beginning to be regained through the love of friends, their honesty and caring, through personal introspection and also through a little bit of my own denial.

Image by Vlad Kenner, November 2009

Can I confess these things...

Night Time
The xx
listen
You mean that much to me
And it's hard to show
Gets hectic inside of me
When you go
Can I confess these things
To you
I don't know
Embedded in my chest
And it
Hurts to hold

I couldn't spill my heart
My eyes gleam looking in from the dark
I walk out in stormy weather
Hold my words, keep us together
Steady walking but bound to trip
Should release but just tighten my grip

Night time
Sympathize
I've been working on
White lies
So I'll tell the truth
I'll give it up to you
And when the days come
It will have all been fun
We'll talk about it soon

I couldn't spill my heart
My eyes gleam
Looking in from the dark
I walk out in stormy weather
Hope my words keep us together
Steady walking but bound to trip
Should release but just tighten my grip

Night time
Sympathize
I've been working on
White lies
So I'll tell the truth
I'll give it up to you
And when the days come
It will have all been fun
We'll talk about it soon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Haven't written here in a little while. Not out of a desire to not write, but rather because I didn't quite know what to say.

Life is complicated. It isn't fair nor easy. It's all too short and often filled with disappointment. But it has its moments when it is beautiful, passionate, vibrant and full [for me].

The last few months have been all of that, and more.

Details are necessary, but at the same time insignificant.

I am alive.

I am grateful for what and who I have in my life.

And I have realized that I’m alright with bittersweet… it doesn’t have to be all sunshine and roses.



Image with Vaunt by Corwin Prescott, October 2009

...feel what it's like to be new

Soul Meets Body
Death Cab For Cutie
listen
I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new

Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where they’re far more suited than here

And I cannot guess what we'll discover
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain

And I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body

And I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last week was rough.

I would say that it was akin to being on an emotional roller-coaster, but truth be told, there was very little "up", to go with the down. If I were to continue with the amusement park ride analogy, I guess it felt more like a "free-fall" ride, with little stops, before the "drops" along the way. Fun. (not). I don't like that "pit in your stomach" feeling. Never have, and I'm not about to start now.

At at one point last week I was thinking, that if I didn't have certain responsibilities (inescapable ones), I would seriously consider going/running away/disappearing for a little while. Leaving this life. Finding another one...one where my soul meets my body, and where the feel of the sun touching my body makes me happy, instead of inexplicably sad.



I don't want or need Utopia. Just someplace where it feels a little less oppressive.

But this is a new week...and with it, new opportunities for peace, happiness, fulfillment.

Or at least a girl can hope.






Image by Nathaniel Goldstock, May 2009

'cause happy and sad come in quick succession

Bled White
Elliott Smith
listen
i'm a color reporter (rose city on the 409)
but the city's been bled white (white city on the yellow line)
and the doctor orders (drinking till he's trashed is just a waste of time)
he drinks all night to take away this curse
but it makes me feel much worse

so i wait for the f-train (white city on the yellow line)
and connect through a friend of mine (white city to a friend of mine)
to a yesterdaydream (yesterday a dream was just a waste of time)
'cause i'll have to be high to track the sunset down
and paint this pailing town

so here he comes with a blank _expression
especially for me 'cause he knows
i feel the same
'cause happy and sad come in quick succession
i'm never going to become
what you became

don't you dare disturb me (don't complicate my peace of mind)
while i'm balancing my past (don't complicate my peace of mind)
'cause you can't help or hurt me (the anger, being mean was just a waste of time)
like it already has, it may not seem quite right
but i'm not fucked, not quite

bled white
bled white

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Written originally on 4.6.09, but not posted until 4.10.009)


Haven't written in here in a while.

Nothing dreadful has occurred, nor has anything particularly stupendous.

Life goes on, doesn't it?

Rainy dreary day in NYC. Listening to Elliott, on repeat. A perfect companion to the day. What a beautiful man, in ways that are/were not readily apparent. What a sad man, in ways that were all too easy to see.

But I digress. This isn't about Elliott, this is about me.

Life is relatively fine. I've met some cool people recently, people who have made me feel *alive* and vibrant. It's nice. It certainly is a contrast to other aspects of my life, where I sometimes feel for lack of a better term, like "dead weight".

I've been toying with being more "open" in this blog...but I'm not entirely sure I can or should be. Too much to say and too many potential repercussions. At the same time I really dislike being cryptic. Were you to meet me in person, I'd hope that you would find that I'm a pretty damn open book. Add to this, my having always sorted through issues by writing about them, and I feel that I have some pretty compelling reasons to want to write less obliquely.

I need to think about it.

There's a lot I need to think about and figure out.

don't you dare disturb me (don't complicate my peace of mind)
while i'm balancing my past (don't complicate my peace of mind)
'cause you can't help or hurt me (the anger, being mean was just a waste of time)
like it already has, it may not seem quite right
but i'm not fucked, not quite

No, not fucked, not quite.



Image by Aeric M. Goujon, October 2007

breakdown's coming up 'round the bend

Fool's Gold
The Stone Roses
listen
The gold road's sure a long road
winds on through the hills for fifteen days

The pack on my back is achin'
the straps seem to cut me like a knife

The gold road's sure a long road
winds on through the hills for fifteen days

The pack on my back is achin'
the straps seem to cut me like a knife

I'm no clown, I won't back down
I don't need you to tell me what's goin' down
down, down, down, down, da down, down, down
down, down, down, down, da down, down, down

I'm standing alone
I'm watching you all
I'm seeing you sinking
I'm standing alone
you're weighing the gold
I'm watching you sinking
Fool's gold

These boots were made for walking
the Marquis De Sade never made no boots like these

Gold's just around the corner
breakdown's coming up 'round the bend

(how ya doin'?)

Sometimes you have to try to get along dear
I know the truth and I know what you're thinking

Down, down, down, down, da down, down, down

I'm standing alone
I'm watching you all
I'm seeing you sinking
I'm standing alone
you're weighing the gold
I'm watching you sinking
Fool's gold

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Earlier this evening, I wanted a cigarette...sooo badly...(yes, I have started smoking again...sshhhh). And I couldn't leave the house at the time to have one (no smoking in the apt.). So I, for some reason, started singing in my head "I wanna have a smoke" to the tune of "I wanna be adored" by The Stone Roses. Which led me to thinking about them and that song (so simple...so good). And here I am. Melancholy, craving nicotine (still) and on a Stone Roses kick.

I'm in a craptastic mood right now.

Fool's Gold.

I feel like a fucking prospector in the Wild West during the California Gold Rush of 1849. But not. Because everything in my pan, starts out having such great promise, all glittery and shiny, and then it turns out not to be the real thing.

Sometimes I find out within a month or two.

Sometimes it takes me a decade or so.

But the result is the same.

Promises turned to naught.



Image by Aeric M. Goujon, October 2007

And I'm trying to hold on

Soul Inside
Soft Cell
listen
The wind in my hair
And the black in my eyes
I was holding back tears
As I reeled with surprise
There was no one to phone
I just chewed at the time
I was waving goodbye
To control of my mind

And the beat of my heart
Marks the passing of time
And I just wanna scream to the sky
There are times when my mind is an explosion of feelings
I'm trying to hold on to the soul inside

I go looking for lies
In your play-the-game eyes
But I couldn't find the way out
The where's or the why's
Should I laugh
Should I cry
Should I live
Should I die?
It's a wild celebration of feelings inside

And the beat of my heart
Marks the passing of time
And I just wanna scream to the sky
And there are times when my mind is an explosion of feelings
I'm trying to hold on to the soul inside (x3)

(I've got to hold on to the soul inside)

Inside...
It's a wild celebration
(It's a wild)
It a wild celebration of feelings inside
And it's tearing me...
And it's tearing me up
It's a wild...
It's a wild celebration of feelings inside

It's a wild... it's a wild...
Celebration of feelings inside

And I'm trying to hold on
And I'm trying to hold on
And I'm trying
Hold on....

Feelings.... inside....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life has never been as topsy-turvy for me as it has been the last few months. Unemployment (from my "regular job"), financial woes resulting from that and all sorts of miscellaneous trials & tribulations personally. Wow.

It's not that life is entirely *bad*. It's not. There are bright spots and good things. It's just that it's not been my normal, predictable routine life. The one I had nicely become accustomed to. In a way, that's good. It's shaken me out a bit from my complacence and acceptance of a life sometimes half-lived.

I realize I want *more* out of certain people & things. I want more out of my life. The problem is that little miss "has a road-map & plan for everything" doesn't know how to get that *more* without losing some of what has defined her and her life thus far.

Am I making any sense? I fear not. Which is why I seem to spend most days curled underneath the blankies with the cat...numbed into inaction.

Christmas is coming. Maybe I can ask Santa for a little clarity instead of just my "explosion of feelings".

Drawing by Jonathan Herbert, November 2008

What We Needs Is Just What We Wants

Everything Hits At Once
Spoon
listen
Don’t Say A Word
The Last One’s Still Stinging
Back A My Mind
I Feel That Phone Ringing
And There Is No Way Back From This

Everything Hits At Once
What We Needs Is Just What We Wants
I Go To Sleep But Think That You’re Next To Me
I Go To Sleep And Think You’re Next To Me

Don’t Make A Move
When I Walk Out Don’t Follow Me
Out In The Car
Can Feel It Calling Me
And Ooh I would love to stay

But I Can Still Change My Mind Tonight
I Gotta Change My Mind Somehow
I Go To Sleep Alone But Think That You’re Next To Me
Everything Hits At Once Tonight
Outside Is All Lit Up With Ad Lights
In Traffic We Become On The Way Back Home
Part Of Something Bigger Than Just On Our Own

I Gotta Change My Mind Tonight
I Can Still Change My Mind Tonight
Merging In Traffic Cross The Lanes And Then We Become
Something Bigger Than Just Any One
Oh And Everything Hits At Once
What We Needs Is Just What We Wants


I Go To Sleep And Think That You’re Next To Me
I Go To Sleep And Think That You’re Next To Me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything *has* hit all at once in the last 10 or so weeks. Those of you who really know me, know exactly what I mean and am talking (writing) about.

Those of you who don't know me, well, trust me - shit has certainly hit the fan. Almost every aspect of my life has a wee bit of poop on it.

I'm not necessarily complaining. Just observing...and cleaning up. I'm over the shock of it all (almost)...and ready to get rid of the stink and stain. I just need to figure out exactly where to start. And once started, what to salvage, and what to just throw away.

I need to figure out what I truly need...and what I want. And the difference between the two.

Image by Trashy T Modelography, August 2008

But she expressed herself in many different ways

She's Lost Control

Joy Division

listen
Confusion in her eyes that says it all.
She's lost control.
And she's clinging to the nearest passer by,
She's lost control.
And she gave away the secrets of her past,
And said I've lost control again,
And a voice that told her when and where to act,
She said I've lost control again.

And she turned around and took me by the hand and said,
I've lost control again.
And how I'll never know just why or understand,
She said I've lost control again.
And she screamed out kicking on her side and said,
I've lost control again.
And seized up on the floor, I thought she'd die.
She said I've lost control.
She's lost control again.
She's lost control.
She's lost control again.
She's lost control.

Well I had to 'phone her friend to state my case,
And say she's lost control again.
And she showed up all the errors and mistakes,
And said I've lost control again.
But she expressed herself in many different ways,
Until she lost control again.
And walked upon the edge of no escape,
And laughed I've lost control.
She's lost control again.
She's lost control.
She's lost control again.
She's lost control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life is just far too strange these days.

Nothing is the way it used to be.

Nor is it the way it should be.

Just somewhere in between.

I gave up trying to understand.

And lost control.

But [I think] in doing so, I may just have found that piece of me I had given up for lost ever so long ago.

Images & Triptych by Velvet D'Amour, September 2008

but i feel alright when i come undone

Tribulations
LCD Soundsystem

Everybody makes mistakes
but i feel alright when i come undone
you are not making me wait
but it seems alright as long as something's happening
i try to make you late
but you fighting me off like a fire does
you try making me wait
but it feels alright as long as something's happening

get your payments from the nation
for your trials and tribulations

you try to make me wait
you come around when it's come undone
everybody makes you late
and it's never you because you're always thinking
i try making you wait
and give you me some like you give it good
everybody makes mistakes
but it seems it's mine that always keep on stinging

get your payments from the nation
for your trials and tribulations

you try making me wait
but you come undone when you come undone
everybody makes mistakes
but it's always mine that seem to keep on sticking

get your payments from the nation
for your trials and tribulations

The last few weeks have been interesting at best, coming undone at worst. I guess the truth is somewhere in the middle. At least I hope it is.

(I've cried multiple times today...)

Time for me to re-evaluate a whole host of things in my personal and professional life.

Time to take several deep breaths and not lose perspective, which I fear I might be losing, or conversely looking at with microscopic precision and blowing out of proportion.

Time to be patient

Time to not over-think.

Time to change, evolve, grow. Which is all very well and good, if I didn't constantly feel like staying under the covers with the cat in my arms.

OK, so maybe I don't feel that alright when I come undone. At last the truth comes out...

Almost.

Image by Tom Spianti, taken October 2008

Well Rehearsed

Loves Lost Guarantee
Rogue Wave

Fire's rage down in the north
Hell is here, what a source
Man lost his little machine
hair and bone and maybelline
Then you go for your one shot
to where you are

Bad vibes, from love's underside
it made her bleed he'll confide
beavers are hard to come by
eyes are closed and hands are tied
Then you go for your one shot
to where you are

Oh what you need, so guaranteed
Oh what you need, so guaranteed

Loves comes like a Kennedy curse
The victim whom is well rehearsed
You paint over any mistake
but you cant remove the original thing
then you go for your one shot
to where you are, where you are

Oh what you need, so guaranteed
Oh what you need, so guaranteed

Oh what you need, so guaranteed
Oh what you need, so guaranteed
Oh what you need, so guaranteed
Oh what you need, so guaranteed
oh, oh, oh...
so guaranteed

There are no guarantees in life, and I'm not even sure if I'm looking for one. I do know that I'm looking for what I've lost though. There's a piece of me missing. But I'm not quite sure which piece yet. I'm tempted to jump to conclusions...tempted to jump through hoops. I'm tempted.

And possibly just a little lost.

Vulnerability is not easy for me. Yes, I know that it typically isn't for most, if not all people. But man oh man. I've been thinking a fair bit these past few days about the ways in which I "protect" myself. I'm a fucking veritable fortress of defense mechanisms and power plays. Anything to not get hurt. Anything to not get close to getting hurt.

I'm ever so clever when it comes to pretense and masks, all in the name of self-preservation. So clever in fact that sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it until later, much later. I've devised some amazingly elaborate ways to hide in public. To protect myself. The problem I think is that with that much self-imposed artifice, one runs the risk of losing bits and pieces of oneself to the "image" - the "lie".

I think that's what I've managed to do. Protected myself so very much from all the possible points of ingress and injury to my psyche that I've somehow tied myself off from the world and from seeing myself as I truly want to be and could be.

Image by Brian Rawson, Spring 2006