You do not conquer things. Not possible. You may get to know something for a while, spend your time with it, keep it near you until you think you recognize it. But when it's gone, it becomes someone else's thing to change. And it leaves you behind. Whatever you knew about it--all of it will change. Be them relationships, or simply those facts told to you in a classroom. The closest you get to keeping something static and close by is through the change you yourself embody by having known it. The only thing you get to keep--how much it has conquered you.
For my part, I appreciate being changed by things. This change attests to the effect of this thing upon me. It speaks strictly of its importance to my life, and I feel i can gauge my progress somehow in this way, by evidence of the things i have both lost and have become.
The point of my entire delusion of existence is again unclear, evading me. I feel myself as a vague presence in the world. When I sit still, I feel my loose clothes flutter around me, moved by an air or another human being. When i move, I sense the world around me moving too, sometimes with me, and yet sometimes against. I feel a certain agitation has been abating for quite some time, so that I'm no longer moved to make arbitrary adjustments in a violent right of way; a screaming light winning out behind my eyes, now no longer overpowers the glow of either night or day.
I find myself taking ridiculous risks. Feeling uneasy about them, as uncomfortable as a freezing stone wall--lost from sunlight and pummeled eternally now by icy waves. Still, i choose to step into their uncertainty with enough regularity to worry the people around me. Or rather, the ones that seem to love me. These risks are small but many. Taking them feels wrong and natural, and so far I'd say they've yet to get the better of me.
I'm always spilling things on myself, so I suppose I still presume the existence of 'self', 'things' (outside of the presumed 'self'), and the possibility even of all my fuck-ups. I still like to close my eyes tightly and intentionally focus on the blindness, to the soundtrack of the world unabated/unrelaxed/not on pause. I still want things that I do not really want at all, as though bodily desires, or even those of the soul, operate on a separate sphere than the faithful demands of myself named 'self'. But to derive a point from any of this? To find a center? Summarize my sum of all desires into a project worth a lifetime? I don't possess this degree of ingenuity! I don't even know where to begin...
Listen: Rock-climbing, and the way my forearms look afterward. Barefoot feelings in the instance of carpet, versus the shock of concrete. Eyes that look my way or away from me, with specificity. Eyes that peek, and glance, and give and plan and take apart or put back together again. Hands that hug strongly, seen pressing solid against an envied back. The name of those hands; being blank but not empty, you're sure. Making lists--how we're doing--and how doing so fills your mouth full with the words your hand is writing. Thoughts of "travel", false as that cornered plant, but places other than your own made so vibrant in your memories, so much more real sometimes than here, or there. But you hope not--you even fear it. And how by now, your frantic handwriting shows it all....
How shut down you manage to feel sometimes, even by the absence of a blank page, or the present imminence of a blanker stare. How utterly entranced and loving you become by the music making your day come alive. How crazy you really, really are. To fall head over heels for a well-built chair, means that eye contact with said chair must needs become forbidden. And so the concept of "forbidden", too, is real, and taken seriously.
How you subscribe to such ideas (with profound loyalty). You vest in them, bet your life sometimes, unwittingly. And still you stay reluctant to admit your life to be something possible to wager on, likely to be bartered at all. Ah, the things we think we believe!, and more particularly do not--how they have nothing to do with the things we're acting upon. Everyday! Accidentally, almost, and letting the wind decide. We fancy ourselves to be free, after all, and freely led. And frank with life, but even so, riddled with these moments of anti-life.
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (8/28/09)
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...
Iron bar skims softly down my bare foot. Skin keeps imprint of its presence one moment at a time. Sesame seeds dot barren along the fake stained burgundy of table-top red. False plant in the corner, too scarred to turn back now.
(Oh, god, this is hard! How I wish I knew where I was going with any of this... But a story takes so much more of myself away with it then maybe I have to spare.)
(Oh, god, this is hard! How I wish I knew where I was going with any of this... But a story takes so much more of myself away with it then maybe I have to spare.)
Shit, man! My life has just taken a nice complete U-turn--
So Jesus Christ. Seriously. And here I am sitting in a Motel 6 in Salem, MA, wondering where the last two months went, and how the hell I managed to get here without really recording a mere minute of the endless time it took. Tomorrow I officially move into my new surrogate home in the Bronx, and I'm feeling rather out of body about the whole-crazy-hidden Truth of it all. And what else? The Law School of it. And the Absent Family Life of it. And the Abandoned Lover of it. And yes, the godforsaken invisible circus where the time already is counting down to the countdown--since really nothing has yet begun.
In the mean time (always), the Road Trippin' it from the West Coast to the East Coast and then some has seen its share of good and lesser wakeful days. Cuz shit, see where the game of association shall take us?: Taos and Dixon and Prescott and pool and The Rio (un)Grande and not NiagaraFallsGrandCanyonRockyMountains and Louisiana banjos and Wagon Wheel and hot springs and Colorado Springs and BIG CITIES and Syracuse and small cities and Omaha and carcarcar with dogdogdog and Sierra and meeting-the-mother-for-the-first-time and not Boston and gas stations and their coffee but not their food and 'jesuschristo we're tired!'s and feeling like you could go all fucking night long and the somehow stopping anyways...
And anyway, it could've gone on much longer, and in fact actually did. But as for my memory, only the bits and pieces of it serve as balm to the massive black absences of the rest, and I'm not sure if that's good enough yet. But hey, i haven't an alternative either. So that yes, in-the-mean-time i suppose I'll just have to allow in the content of all of it, even before I've earned the wisdom which bespeaks of its form with any sense of clarity. Until then, I guess I'd better go get whatever-it-is i can get, eh?
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (8/19/09!)
In the mean time (always), the Road Trippin' it from the West Coast to the East Coast and then some has seen its share of good and lesser wakeful days. Cuz shit, see where the game of association shall take us?: Taos and Dixon and Prescott and pool and The Rio (un)Grande and not NiagaraFallsGrandCanyonRockyMountains and Louisiana banjos and Wagon Wheel and hot springs and Colorado Springs and BIG CITIES and Syracuse and small cities and Omaha and carcarcar with dogdogdog and Sierra and meeting-the-mother-for-the-first-time and not Boston and gas stations and their coffee but not their food and 'jesuschristo we're tired!'s and feeling like you could go all fucking night long and the somehow stopping anyways...
And anyway, it could've gone on much longer, and in fact actually did. But as for my memory, only the bits and pieces of it serve as balm to the massive black absences of the rest, and I'm not sure if that's good enough yet. But hey, i haven't an alternative either. So that yes, in-the-mean-time i suppose I'll just have to allow in the content of all of it, even before I've earned the wisdom which bespeaks of its form with any sense of clarity. Until then, I guess I'd better go get whatever-it-is i can get, eh?
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (8/19/09!)
Rants...
So last night, he leaves me a message that says, "When you get here, lets spend 16 hours together, since that's how long it would have taken me to drive there and back--or rather, let's spend a couple hours since that's almost equivalent, when you get here. So that's what i was thinking, all that time I would have spent alone, let's spend it together..."
Okay, so I have some problems with this. For one (though it took me longest to think of it, for some reason), if we're gonna say it's all for the best, than let's say it because it's probably better that he's not here distracting me to no end by being around when I'm supposed to be moving. (Because of course I'd rather spend time with him than fucking move.) Or even, let's say that it's best that he's not here so that he can't stress me out when he's feeling uncomfortable in my transitioning house, or by himself dwelling and regretting the 8-hour drive up that might not have felt leisurely to him for whatever reasons. Point being: if it's hypothetically better this way, let's consider how it was in my best interests, not his--considering we're talking about my neglected birthday, here.
Secondly, the "16-hour drive" note is just a statement that says it would have taken effort to get his ass up here. Great! Effort shows by action the worth you feel something has. In this case, his making the effort to drive up here oughtta be outweighed (or even serve to value) by the occasion of my birthday party. And yes, he should have wanted to show me that the effort was worth it to him, just like he should have wanted to see me, especially on my birthday, enough to make an effort to that end.
And finally, along that same line: "16 hours together" instead?! (I'm not even gonna go into his immediate back-tracking that shrinks that number down to 2 the same minute he offers it.) Well, hell. Why couldn't we have spent that much time together either way, if he wanted to? I am going to be down there for a week, after all. Driving up for my birthday shouldn't/wouldn't have canceled out future time spent together. Frankly, the quantification is vaguely insulting--again, sounding like a quota he evidently feels he needs to meet for our relationship. Fuck that. See me if & when you want to see me. DO NOT fulfill imaginary quotas, or meet arbitrary expectations, that will make you feel like shit later either way. I do not hold on to my disappointment now, any more than I resent him for not showing up. But the only reasonable way to let go for me is by coming to peace with the fact that HE DID NOT WANT TO COME. Do not down play this. It is what it is. And yes, I have a right to be disappointed about it. But the fact that we value romantic gestures very differently (especially here and now, when I'm merely weeks from leaving California, regardless of the fact that he'll start my journey with me) is okay.
And this is how I'll make peace with my disappointment. NOT by saying it was best for him not to exert effort, or that he'll make it up to me later at his own convenience, once I make the drive all the way down to him--first to SoCal, and then to his neck of the woods in Encinitas. Because yeah, I'll do that--but no, it doesn't make up for the past, any more than it's much related to the fact that he didn't come. I'll do it because I want to see him. Because I always want to see him. And that's just the way we work.
(Besides girlfriend, don't forget that you've been thinking about it for a week and he didn't start until it was too late to take it back--or how you knew it would be that way. Sigh.)
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (7/23/09)
Okay, so I have some problems with this. For one (though it took me longest to think of it, for some reason), if we're gonna say it's all for the best, than let's say it because it's probably better that he's not here distracting me to no end by being around when I'm supposed to be moving. (Because of course I'd rather spend time with him than fucking move.) Or even, let's say that it's best that he's not here so that he can't stress me out when he's feeling uncomfortable in my transitioning house, or by himself dwelling and regretting the 8-hour drive up that might not have felt leisurely to him for whatever reasons. Point being: if it's hypothetically better this way, let's consider how it was in my best interests, not his--considering we're talking about my neglected birthday, here.
Secondly, the "16-hour drive" note is just a statement that says it would have taken effort to get his ass up here. Great! Effort shows by action the worth you feel something has. In this case, his making the effort to drive up here oughtta be outweighed (or even serve to value) by the occasion of my birthday party. And yes, he should have wanted to show me that the effort was worth it to him, just like he should have wanted to see me, especially on my birthday, enough to make an effort to that end.
And finally, along that same line: "16 hours together" instead?! (I'm not even gonna go into his immediate back-tracking that shrinks that number down to 2 the same minute he offers it.) Well, hell. Why couldn't we have spent that much time together either way, if he wanted to? I am going to be down there for a week, after all. Driving up for my birthday shouldn't/wouldn't have canceled out future time spent together. Frankly, the quantification is vaguely insulting--again, sounding like a quota he evidently feels he needs to meet for our relationship. Fuck that. See me if & when you want to see me. DO NOT fulfill imaginary quotas, or meet arbitrary expectations, that will make you feel like shit later either way. I do not hold on to my disappointment now, any more than I resent him for not showing up. But the only reasonable way to let go for me is by coming to peace with the fact that HE DID NOT WANT TO COME. Do not down play this. It is what it is. And yes, I have a right to be disappointed about it. But the fact that we value romantic gestures very differently (especially here and now, when I'm merely weeks from leaving California, regardless of the fact that he'll start my journey with me) is okay.
And this is how I'll make peace with my disappointment. NOT by saying it was best for him not to exert effort, or that he'll make it up to me later at his own convenience, once I make the drive all the way down to him--first to SoCal, and then to his neck of the woods in Encinitas. Because yeah, I'll do that--but no, it doesn't make up for the past, any more than it's much related to the fact that he didn't come. I'll do it because I want to see him. Because I always want to see him. And that's just the way we work.
(Besides girlfriend, don't forget that you've been thinking about it for a week and he didn't start until it was too late to take it back--or how you knew it would be that way. Sigh.)
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (7/23/09)
An ode to Luna bars and Harry Potter!
Last night I went to a writer's meet-up group and got some nice little feedback on my stale old mixed-up jumble of a story: "Your writing is a powerful emotional tool--but use it wisely."
The problem is, God if that's actually a good description of my writing! More likely, it's a reflection of an emotional snippet of a page or two, which was written almost two years ago, probably. ("When did you say you wrote this?" "Um, I'm not sure... Maybe a couple months ago?" You lying nutcase! What's the point, anyway?)
Yes, anyway. That's all I wanted to say. I don't feel like thinking too much more tonight. After all, I reckon my mind has recently been swept up and away by a nice little fantasy story, just recently...
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (6/17/09)
The problem is, God if that's actually a good description of my writing! More likely, it's a reflection of an emotional snippet of a page or two, which was written almost two years ago, probably. ("When did you say you wrote this?" "Um, I'm not sure... Maybe a couple months ago?" You lying nutcase! What's the point, anyway?)
Yes, anyway. That's all I wanted to say. I don't feel like thinking too much more tonight. After all, I reckon my mind has recently been swept up and away by a nice little fantasy story, just recently...
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (6/17/09)
Pep-Talk!
What was it again? Stolen? The fact of my missing life's calling seems to me a natural thing. Not so much 'stolen' as gone away. Gone traveling, but we think for just a bit. And who talks about us when we're not around? Not even like cruel gossip, but just in the sense that we are on the minds of others, earning their concern & deserving of their good intentions. I feel like I don't appreciate myself enough, nor the good I do. I feel as though those around me are placed in danger of making the same mistake each time I make it in front of them, by devaluing the work I do or the progress I make. What is the saying? "Stress is the denial of what IS." And just WHAT is!? I need to look around myself, honestly. Determine which aspects of my life truly do not reflect me, and change them. And the ones that do reflect me? Well, learn to approve of them, and thus learn how to accept what IS--whichever 'is' you are.
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (6/8/09)
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (6/8/09)
...
Drop of voices falling in a crowded room.
Hum of late morning's buzz like a radio show.
How powerful women will the nights to end.
Mouth-throat dry, sticky to a stunted tongue.
Tales of baby chicks named Stella, says the River Daughter,
updates of domesticity, known futures in advance.
While waiting here, in limbo for the waiting days,
watching people 'chase the trees', all the way to Montreal.
"Not much going on, just a whole lot more of the same,"
she says, speaking to a two-year-lost friend.
Seeing her past breach future memories,
then break-in to her present discontent.
Hum of late morning's buzz like a radio show.
How powerful women will the nights to end.
Mouth-throat dry, sticky to a stunted tongue.
Tales of baby chicks named Stella, says the River Daughter,
updates of domesticity, known futures in advance.
While waiting here, in limbo for the waiting days,
watching people 'chase the trees', all the way to Montreal.
"Not much going on, just a whole lot more of the same,"
she says, speaking to a two-year-lost friend.
Seeing her past breach future memories,
then break-in to her present discontent.
"To leave the house of fear..."
There's this guy at a coffee shop that seriously messes with me. I never can tell how I was feeling before I talk with him, or how it relates to the way I feel afterward. All I know is that I've gotta let go of the implications therein, whatever they may be. I've got to deny the call to clumsiness that beckons me in his stoic presence, reflecting everything but me in his eyes--dark eyes, obviously.
(But I was worried, I'll admit it, or rather concerned when I heard tales of a bad bike crash, and knew it could likely have been him...)
And then, I'm not even certain of his name! I think I know it, but I've never asked nor has he offered. He has this air of unapologetic arrogance, that I can neither condone, nor completely ignore, as it seems more steeped in self-deprecation than in conceit. It's like that other bearded boy, erring on the edge of misanthropy--not for a second accepting another's joy or happiness as a thing that ought actually to exist. Go figure.
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (4/6/09)
(But I was worried, I'll admit it, or rather concerned when I heard tales of a bad bike crash, and knew it could likely have been him...)
And then, I'm not even certain of his name! I think I know it, but I've never asked nor has he offered. He has this air of unapologetic arrogance, that I can neither condone, nor completely ignore, as it seems more steeped in self-deprecation than in conceit. It's like that other bearded boy, erring on the edge of misanthropy--not for a second accepting another's joy or happiness as a thing that ought actually to exist. Go figure.
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (4/6/09)
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