Monday, June 14, 2010

Coming back to this blog and looking at the posts I now have hidden, a rage fills me again, unbidden, as fiery and twisted as the day it was billowed to life. Unbridled fury, searing at the edges of my vision so they simultaneously seem darkened and white hot. In fact a whole jumbled rush of emotions come on, not least of which is regret. but once more I force it down, swallow it until I'm ready to deal with it. Lindsays known better than to spoil the few days we've had together, which may yet be our last for some time, by talking about her but I can see the patronizing reproach in the corner of her eye and feel the sooothing sympathy in her fingertips.

Indeed, I'm just biding time until we can quietly sneak away for a tryst

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Unfinished stream of consciousness

Lack of emotion.
Blurred line
Where do I reside?
There is no despair
Isn't there?
I won't let there be.
I won't let myself wonder
Whether she regrets any of it.
Regrets ever talking to me
Bearing that burden
I won't let myself wonder that.
That path leads to despair.
There is no despair
There is only forward.
An old friend may become part of my life again.
For that I am excited.
And my life indeed, is starting.
I can be my own me
What a terrifying and freeing prospect
Who am I
Identity is hidden by identities
Am I the me that knows more bible verses than the average Christian yet chooses to use them to refute Christianity?
Am I the me that listens to metal and pierces himself and doesn't give a shit?
Am I the me the wishes he could dress up in suit with a faded hat suitable of one of the bluesmen of old and hobo across the country?
Am I the me who wants to join the peace corps?
Am I the me that prefers to spend most of his time reading?
Am I the me that can walk for days without ever getting tired of being where he is and doesn't focus on where he isn't?
Am I the me that knows how to make a man reach for his wallet and steal it from him moments later?
Am I the me that wants to spend every waking moment holding a guitar playing to no one?
Am I the me that would love nothing more than to curl up on the couch with a someone and do nothing but watch the rain against the windows?
There is something about seeing beautiful landscapes that makes you ache to have someone to share them with. Someone who can understand that beauty can't begin to describe the breathtaking sight of a horizon perfectly arching over harshly rugged rock formations, framing the strangely familiar yet utterly alien shapes hidden in the formations. That wild untamable force that is nature never fails to take my breathe away, leaving me disappointed every time I return to this drab room. Yet I must return, if I am ever to have someone to share in that triumphant rush of joy at the sight of something so expansively beautiful that words cannot express it, but the desire to become part nature fills your soul, pressing into every crack and seeping through the gates of pain and despair. The knowledge that you could stop breathing at that moment and feel no fear, for your life must be completed to have seen such a marvel, yet at the same time there cant possibly be a sight in heaven more utterly pleasing than the one before you.