Stupid being human.

[tonight is a double post night]

I hold high aspirations and I have a huge spirit toward life. I play up independence, free thought, honesty, and discomfort.

And then I have his need to cling to other people who do the same.

Aimee talks about the need for what she calls "community." I would like to believe that it is an innate surface need that can be overridden, but I know that is not the case.

"I've got a body I'm bound to,
an overweight heart,
my feet in the ground,
and a planet I can't quite figure out."

I know that I wrote this. It's in my notebook and in my handwriting, but I do not remember it.

listening to [dark side of the moon]
just watched [a waking life]
feeling [overwhelmed with a sense of being and reality]

Heh. Reality.

So many keys. Everyone thinks they hold the one that will open the door. Assuming there is a key.

Reaching a place where there is no more throwing out of possibilities. Only adding to the old.

Nathan decided [this week] to become a college philosophy professor. I couldn't think of a more suitable profession. I hope he doesn't change his mind about this like he does with everything else.

I feel an overwhelming drive to create. Kind of like January, but a little less want and a little more need. And I'm down a key. Assuming there is a key.

I'm not really identifying with anything right now. Or rather, I'm identifying with absolutely everything, so I'm a messy conglomeration of all these pieces that typically stand alone.

"Looking back, the only thing that really mattered was connecting with people."

I appologize for the incoherency and the stream-of-consciouness naure of his post, but it's exactly how I feel.

Textiles, Fields, and Mississippi Love [a song]

To the left of the Mississippi stream
With a life that's a lot more like a dream
In a field that you like to call "your place"
Where you feel undeserving of the grace
From a love and a chance you were so luckily given

On a swim through a yarn and textile sea
You forgot and you over steeped your tea
Stocking up, making scarves in mid July
For the stranger you're out to satisfy
Who are cold and are searching for a piece of love

Honey, you don't see why love should change between friend and romance
Bicycles and clover chains and not needing music to dance
Mountains sing your lullaby

In the cold when you cut off all your hair
And our grandmother said you didn't care
Proved her wrong along Appalachian way
When you gave your ability to play
To a man who was aching for a song-filled trail

Honey, I don't see why you should lie on the driveway and cry
Wishing on the other side. You wait for the day that you die.
Then come better times.

But It Makes For Happier Farewells.

I've never not been the closest person to someone.
[Until now]

Me



All



Week.

My insides are sad.

I'm sitting two steps below the middle line [a ponzarism].

There are few things that are very good in life. Friendships with love and conversations and connections. Writing songs. Rivers. Sisters. Lying on the driveway staring at the stars. The hope of something better. The hope that things will be the way they used to be. "And above all else, love."

my heart is heavy.
I am sorry.
Cardboard.
Filetsr

and we take it for granted
and we let it go
and we fill ourselves with regret
but it is not there for us to hold.
it is gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

I speak of love often. Perhaps because I do not fully understand it and it baffles me.

I think I basically love everyone. I'm probably wrong. And if I am, which is most definitely inevitable, I can still whole-heartedly account for seven individuals.

Seven.
Seven in eighteen and a half years.

and we take it for granted
and we let it go
and we fill ourselves with regret
but it is not there for us to hold.
it is gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

A few months ago, I told one of my seven that I have a hard time distinguishing between "friend love" and "romantic love". It's true. It continues to be true. It's just... love.

love.
love.
love.

The hope for something better is a glutton. And the selfishness of possibility jeopardizes my precious "one every two years and eight months". And suddenly, one of the few truly good things in life is not good.

Perhaps nothing is good.
And perhaps nothing is bad.
Everything just is.
That's what one of my seven says.

I told Aimee I loved her the most.
She says she doesn't believe me.
I am crying.

and we take it for granted
and we let it go
and we fill ourselves with regret
but it is not there for us to hold
it is gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

[what have I done?]

Follow or Become the Line Leader

I'm ready.
I'm ready.
I'm ready. I have to go.

I can't be
I can't be
I can't be the one you know.

I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying to comprehend.

I need you
I need you
I need you to help me stand.

Speak of love like a catalyst and
Change is a piece that should never be missed and you
Wish on planes and pretend you know that
Things will get better as you go.

Don't let me
Don't let me
Don't let me lose what I know.

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry. I love you so.

Speak of love like a catalyst and
Change is a piece that should never be missed and you
Wish on planes and pretend you know that
Things will get better as you go.

I can't see
I can't see
I can't see the reasons the why.

Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Forgive me. I've tried and tried.

Come quickly
Come quickly
Come quickly into the glow.

And lead me
And lead me
And lead me through vertigo.