These are mine...

Our Goodbye Songs?

I'm having a sudden crushing weight

I would sleep on a bed of rotting mussels immersed in an inch of salt water to be in the same place with purpose just to be with you.

The Space Between Us

tinkerbell

Side Car

Parents either let the child be or be a product of them

“our parents
were ashamed
that they were
not
like that”

http://www.brainpickings.org/2014/07/04/bukowski-the-man-with-the-beautiful-eyes-jonathan-hodgson/

Tackly love is needed to stick

so they can long for what has been been exposed to them....
Return On Engagement replaces Return on Investment

Romantic Ideals

The World Only Cares About What It Can Get from You

Let's say that the person you love the most has just been shot. He or she is lying in the street, bleeding and screaming. A guy rushes up and says, "Step aside." He looks over your loved one's bullet wound and pulls out a pocket knife -- he's going to operate right there in the street.
You ask, "Are you a doctor?"
The guy says, "No."
You say, "But you know what you're doing, right? You're an old Army medic, or ..."
At this point the guy becomes annoyed. He tells you that he is a nice guy, he is honest, he is always on time. He tells you that he is a great son to his mother and has a rich life full of fulfilling hobbies, and he boasts that he never uses foul language.
Confused, you say, "How does any of that fucking matter when my [wife/husband/best friend/parent] is lying here bleeding! I need somebody who knows how to operate on bullet wounds! Can you do that or not?!?"
Now the man becomes agitated -- why are you being shallow and selfish? Do you not care about any of his other good qualities? Didn't you just hear him say that he always remembers his girlfriend's birthday? In light of all of the good things he does, does it really matter if he knows how to perform surgery?
In that panicked moment, you will take your bloody hands and shake him by the shoulders, screaming, "Yes, I'm saying that none of that other shit matters, because in this specific situation, I just need somebody who can stop the bleeding, you crazy fucking asshole."

So here is my terrible truth about the adult world: You are in that very situation every single day. Only you are the confused guy with the pocket knife. All of society is the bleeding gunshot victim. If you want to know why society seems to shun you, or why you seem to get no respect, it's because society is full of people who need things. They need houses built, they need food to eat, they need entertainment, they need fulfilling sexual relationships. You arrived at the scene of that emergency, holding your pocket knife, by virtue of your birth -- the moment you came into the world, you became part of a system designed purely to see to people's needs.

Either you will go about the task of seeing to those needs by learning a unique set of skills, or the world will reject you, no matter how kind, giving, and polite you are. You will be poor, you will be alone, you will be left out in the cold. Does that seem mean, or crass, or materialistic? What about love and kindness -- don't those things matter? Of course. As long as they result in you doing things for people that they can't get elsewhere.



Source: Harsh Truths

Anxiety

null and void

everything is with consequences to everyone else. 

every decision you make has consequences to me. 

because you are part of my life. 

i give you freedom to make your choices and i will deal with the consequences in as much as constructive positives as i can, 

because that is how i am wired. 

but i can see you are not like that. 

you would rather make the choice together and have limited freedom. 

then rather in a co-dependency state, 

the decision is shared by both of us. 

and consequences are null and void. 

that way you don’t have to construct anything. 

you don’t have to do the work to turn it into something positive or workable for you.

There is always something there to remind me

I get in the car, and the song that plays stops me in time. It stirs deep in the channels of my heart and memory. Its TV on the Radio- ...my love is a suckerbet...

I get on the water. I start arms only. I'm reminded of when I rowed off the docks in Bled for my single and doing the drills and knowing you were watching and I was perfect in execution. We were both proud, apprehensive and nervous.

I row my training. I hear your voice all the time, delay the arm draw.... its like that every day. I hear your voice.

I drive home through Silverton and see all kinds of industrial arts and connections. I know you would make this connection with me, or if I told you, you would be inspired as I am with your meanderings. I can't wait to do and show with you! We must go on a photo journal trip about SA. We both see it in new eyes. Its sufferings. Its people like steam train moving along. But we hear the music in the motion.

I get home and drink my beet juice. I think of all the foods I made, and think you would like this, or you would not like this. I come to the conclusion that we eat more when we are together, because we have food as part of our love and entertainment. When we are apart, we don't eat as much. But blame the other for why we eat more when we are together....

I'm looking for ideas for work. And I see something about weddings. We must save for our wedding I think....

I look for logo ideas for Strot, and there are some cool New York ones. I hope we get to live in New York for a while, I think.... Doesn't he know this, that I think this.

I must remember to tell him.

9:02 Space, December 21, 2013

The "U" Has Become "J"

Wishes and Wants

Two days before Christmas...

I wish....

It's OK This Blanket is Too Small for Both of Us

Angel Gabriel

There are no angels yet
here comes an angel one
shut-off the dark
side of the moon turning to me
and saying: I am the plumed
serpent the beast
with fangs of fire and a gentle
heart

But he doesn’t say that His message
drenches his body
he’d want to kill me
for using words to name him

I sit in the bare apartment
reading
words stream past me poetry
twentieth-century rivers
disturbed surfaces reflecting clouds
reflecting wrinkled neon
but clogged and mostly
nothing alive left
in their depths

The angel is barely
speaking to me
Once in a horn of light
he stood or someone like him
salutations in gold-leaf
ribboning from his lips
Today again the hair streams
to his shoulders
the eyes reflect something
like a lost country or so I think
but the ribbon has reeled itself
up

He isn’t giving
or taking any shit
We glance miserably
across the room at each other

It’s true there are moments
closer and closer together
when words stick in my throat
‘the art of love’
‘the art of words’

I get your message Gabriel
just will you stay looking
straight at me
awhile longer

 “Gabriel” 

by Adrienne Rich

Follow the Drinking Gourd

Follow the drinking gourd, follow the drinking gourd,

For the old man is awaiting for to take you to freedom,

If you follow the drinking gourd.

The riverbank will make a very good road, the dead trees show you the way,

Left foot, peg foot, traveling on, Follow the drinking gourd.

The river ends between two hills, Follow the drinking gourd,

There's another river on the other side, Follow the drinking gourd.

Where the great big river meets the little river, Follow the drinking gourd,

The old man is awaiting for to take you to freedom,

If you follow the drinking gourd.

-Civil War Slave Song