I did not write this

This land like a mirror turns you inward
And you become a forest in a furtive lake;
The dark pines of your mind reach downward,
You dream in the green of your time,
Your memory is a row of sinking pines.

Explorer, you tell yourself this is not what you came for
Although it is good here, and green;
You had meant to move with a kind of largeness,
You had planned a heavy grace, an anguished dream.

But the dark pines of your mind dip deeper
And you are sinking, sinking, sleeper
In an elementary world;
There is something down there and you want it told.

— "Dark Pines Under Water," The Shadow Maker (1972)

Gwendolyn MacEwen


When you wrap up some of the most painful experiences of your life in memories of places you were both young & innocent and crazy & out of control and tie them together with a present desperation for change... you get reminded of Gwendolyn MacEwen poems a man you once loved read to you in the half light of a cold November Sunday morning.

Nostaligia

I want to punch my 24 year old self in the fucking head.

From here on in, when I hate myself now I am going to pull out one of these journals from pre-2003 and force myself to read what kind of bullshit I was thinking and living in.

I am also grateful that I have no real memories of this. Thanks for the cognitive issues, MS!

When you feel your life ain't worth living...

(I don't think this reggae beat is a good choice for this mashup.)

you've got to stand up, take a look around you then a look way up to the sky.

(What the hell is he trying to do?)

And when your deepest thoughts are broken,

(I get it... you love this song.)

keep on dreaming boy, cause when you stop dreamin' it's time to die.

(Boy is right. He won't give up those metaphoric green tights.)

And as we all play parts of tomorrow, some ways we'll work and other ways we'll play.

It's 3 AM. We're both wasted. Would you just turn off the music?

But I know we all can't stay here forever,

YOU AREN'T GOING TO GET ANY MIXING DONE AT THIS HOUR!

so I want to write my words on the face of today.

(Good. It's done.)

and then they'll paint it

(Dammit. No it's not.)

And oh as I fade away,

(Apparently if you aren't going to fade away, you aren't going to let me.)

they'll all look at me and say,

GO THE FUCK TO BED!

Hey look at him and where he is these days.

(I wish I could change my mind about you.)

When life is hard, you have to change.

Dance with me until the sun rise.

When life is hard, you have to change.

You know this is the beginning of the end, right?

When life is hard, you have to change.

Right.



Edit: Lyrics in bold are from "Change" by Blind Melon

My friend died.

One of my oldest friends apparently just dropped dead for no apparent reason sometime in the past 24 hours.

He's been living in South Korea for ever and ever and I haven't seen him since he tried briefly to live in Vancouver about four or five years ago.

His birthday was Remembrance Day. I'll never forget him.

Since I don't believe in an afterlife and I don't believe that he's reading this right now or that he knows that I will miss our talks online and be sad that we never got to see each other again, I'll just say it to you, dear Reader:

I'll miss talking with my friend, Frank. I am sad that we never got a chance to see each other again.

The previous three thoughts that I typed out and then deleted remind me that my attitudes about death aren't "normal" and I don't want to have the words come out wrong or with a tone and tenor that can't be heard in this medium, I'll just shut up now.

But I do know that I made a To-Do list for today and I have done everything but one. That feels good.

10 August 2011 - 12:45 pm

I must scratch something
down before it rains and my
lunch ends. I must scratch
something down before the
end comes. I must scratch
something down before I forget.
It looks as though I have
already forgotten. I have forgotten
how to wake up. I have forgotten
how to be joyous. Not sure I
ever really knew. Glimpses,
Just out of focus on the edge
of my peripheral vision. Terribly
sad sad sad sad. True. True. True.
This is what happens when I listen
to myself.

Insert Witty Title Here

I did not get notifications about comments on my last post. I'm sorry that I didn't respond.

So, I didn't wake up in time to get to the parade. I was just so out of it.

I've been scratching out words on pieces of paper on my lunch hour, but I haven't input them into my project so I don't know where I am or how many of them there are.

I have been down lately. My life tends to be an open book, but this sadness is just too personal.

I hope that tomorrow brings something different. I am almost certain that it won't, but I hope.

This song gives me shivers.



It's not... What you thought... When you first began it...