I don’t even rally in the thoughts of storms and flailing nights too much as I have done in the past. I get closer to most things by launching myself through them rather than around or over them. I’d rather feel the intensity of the falling, knowing that the catch is worth ten fold the ringing of the landing.
The heat and flicker on the lips that causes that flutter, it’s very hard to walk away from every time. It’s rush, roars loud as water forcefully does up against a clouded pane. It pins me and pushes me, and I like that. People need that.
Distance is just a digit. I can sit across from someone and fail to notice an insect on their face but then finely feel the flutters of a heart 200 miles away. Intimacy is the fuel that continually revs that connection.
“I wanted to freeze time. I wanted to savor that moment, to live in that moment for a week. But I couldn’t stop it, only slow it. And before I knew it, she was gone. After the door closed I felt like the last person on Earth.” – Cashback, 2006
There is a curve along your waist and hip that is probably one of my favorite places to rest my palm. It’s cool and smooth and something I always think about when I wake up.
The temperature of rain, the surprise when it hits your face. Streaming across ringlets of hair. Wind wrapping around necks and shoulders, I like that smell it leaves. I like the cold and uncomfortable, and being able to find things warm. I miss you. Maybe I say that too much but It’s ok.
It’s fast. The time between holding on to things as tight as I can, and then waking up to get bagels. The smell of coffee, and clouded jabber in the background and the crinkling of pastry papers. Like wood burning. Familiar but not familiar. I stumbled in my head, I grabbed on to your hand and looked down at worn denim jeans. The air that stops right in the center of a pinhole camera lens photo – that’s the part that matters and that’s where I want to be.
2017 I will let you whisper horrible things, but I’m getting better at wiring those things to street lights as I drive past.
“Your problem is that you’re not happy being sad. But that’s what love is, Cosmo. Happy sad.” – Raphina, Sing Street
The season rolled in over me, kind of caught me by surprise. I like that at least right now there is a feeling of shedding skin. I don’t look at the haze that was in the foreground. It’s shallow. It’s unbecoming. I’ll let that disaster find its way somewhere else.
I will never understand the hearts that can’t portray easy math. Go fast and go fucking far. If spray painting it across your forehead will not aid you in anything than I guess everything really is lost. It is the falling over and over again, even myself finding and attempting to retell myself lines of the written past. Wanting to figure out where I leaped when I should have walked, swam where I should have dove, broke when I should have been strong.
There comes a dawn when you will have to find the path that is distant from it all, and you will have to unravel things that once kept you driven inside of your salted sanity. The moments that were once warm, they just became too brittle. You would think it comes easier after time, and sometimes it does. Eventually you see it just kind of slips through the parts that you sew up.
This month took me to an island. Like rain hitting the pane. A drop of strawberry jam that has fallen into a tall glass of milk. It’s a soft rope, that binds but is very delicately placed and tied. I enjoy this comfort, I enjoy being able to feel everything shower over. I drown in the deep blue where it’s quiet and safe. As an artist I anxiously find adventure pouring methodically into this new chapter. It’s telling and penetrating. The ferocity in it all pulls like an undertow, unyielding to the fierce and only allowing moments to breathe. I take all of those moments in as I can.
It feels good to miss you for the best reasons. I tend to analyze the output and the direction of feelings that you can’t control. Some hugely obtuse and even some finite. I enjoy broadcasting strong emotions in bursts to watch them land. I want to see them soar off over the horizon and wait for the others to bounce off that narrow eye. I like to long for the good things. I like those missing connections that I know I will soon find comfort in again. It creates a warm hearth that can be constantly kindled into a rare, penetrating heat. They are building stones that you should definitely procure, and make sure they have their places – so that when the time comes, they are readily able to find their momentum that they so deserve.
I don’t like thinking about certain ‘missings’ as the result of loneliness. It’s not so real. They rapidly spiral into a series of hoodwinked thoughts. They turn what you ‘thought’ you needed into what bleeds a dark obsession of what you ‘thought’ you had. You are not missing what was there, you are merely missing what you believed you wanted. It’s like how concrete turns to sand. Once that contained substance, now no longer has its strength. My chest doesnt crave the enduring of that, what would become a feeding will soon fell a drowning.
So I breathe in the swells, as they come. I hold them in and allow them to imprint and to flourish. These are the things you want to remember. Because as that tide ebbs and flows, back and forth, you will find yourself falling into that shallow well. A well that towers prying overhead. You may be able to breathe for now, but you know the tide soon arrives. The hearth that you have been tending, all of those words that you stapled to your skin, you will need every ember of that to keep you above. You will need every subtle emotion to lead you to that next rung.
It binds and burns at the same time. It lifts and leads on to places you feel you have never been. It’s desire and an ending all enfolded into one. It’s what turns the familiar into the unfamiliar.
“I look at the stars, in all their beauty and grace, and I still like you more.” – Jakob Dakota Sauer
“What I admire most about you – the bloodiness of your heart” – Margaret Atwood
Art by Camille 2016
It resonates after all, even after all this time. If you don’t think I absolutely know the trail that is left after all of this you are completely wrong. And it’s all delightfully refreshing, where I am right at this minute. Today. Right here. Right fucking now. I do remember what it’s like to have my chest begin to swell. You take a small part of the person every time it happens.
Its momentum walks me through piles of shallow gestures. The subtleties that seemed so penetrating. Not so much anymore.
I threw that key in the pool. If you want it, go fucking get it.
“Just close the door and let me do what I need.
Cause it’s better for us, If you just let me leave.”
– How to Fix Everything