my interweb connection has been wonky lately, making it necessary to literally walk around the room at Boe’s house, computer in hand, to find the spot where the signal cuts out the least. To top it off, frequently when I click on “update journal” on LJ it shuts down the whole Firefox thang, which is a bit frustrating.
As a result, I’ve mostly been posting on Tribe – not my preferred space by any means, and as a result, writing less.
But here’s some recent stuff:
These are the words that I wrote in the urgency if a life that fall far too short a life that is my dreams answered yet unrealized living in the beauty of everything happening living in the shallow shit of still depending in the deep end and I am everything I am growing to be everything I dreamed of everything but everything I have been me and I become. Always become. Always become. always become more.
But things need to change again have for a while. This couch crumbles under me I crumble in the need to be on top of it. This is not me, but maybe is it, and maybe I need to change that. Such a glorious host and dear friend but I know better and need to give him his space back. I need to fix my life. Fuck, I need to go. I need to give him back his home I need to give him back his space and I need to find my own – …
Desperately clutching onto dreams – a thin rope wrapped around my neck and gods, why wont it just make everything simple and do it’s work? This is something I cannot act on.
But in my mind I’ve seen the hanging bodies of dear people – and I’ve wrapped my arms around the lovers of them – not in flesh, in life. I’ve heard his screams and I’ve felt his agony – just a few weeks before., when Bean was taken by the train.
I need to write him. Albert has said, many times – that The Forest will always be my home.
I miss it. I miss the people I got to know there. Tea – yeah, of course you in a big way – You made the coldest nights in my tent so deliciously warm – and so deliciously simple in all the things we talked about, and all of the things that never happened – but also Baru – others.
This is why these times play so sorrowfully for me, this why I am more me than most are known to see. It’s only been two years.
September 28th. 2005. Just after Katrina – and the day that the dearest pat of my entire life – fuck…
Few have any idea of the anguish – but I think I’m wrong in saying that. I’m not special, we all have our own pain.
and we get through it., and – and – and….
fuck you.. I will never be able to express how much I need you –
and I will never be able to admit it. Sun, September 23, 2007 – 12:24 PM
so much unsaid…
Thank you for the evening.
don’t think we should do this again until I can take you out of me,
if I can.
I still dream too much
and i will always be a fool.
I don’t know where this will go, if anywhere.
I think that is the line I need to begin with to release any responsibility before I write, so I can write.
My intention in this is to come directly from the heart, because that is what I need to get the shit out of. The shit always goes to my head, and that thing does it’s best to convey. In the english language of my knowing, it frequently falls short, says less.
I remember reading a book about 18 years ago – it might have been The Book Of Laughter and Forgetting, by Kundera – but it was certainly Kundera. I don’t remember the particular passage, read upstairs at Cafe Internacional on Teloegraph in Berkeley, shortly after I moved here for the first time, when I was still so wonderfully anonymous.
It said something about one single word in a different language that embodied the depth of a feeling that couldn’t ever be explained in this one – this language. The word described something about love – and while at that time I had only had a glimpse of what that truly meant (still trying desperately to love me) that passage struck me – and perhaps it was then that I decided to find the words that could say something. Say something in this language that I needed to, continuously. Get it out of my heart to start again, and while it doesn’t die inside, it is at least released, and the heart is lighter.
So, I go on. looking for the lightness. The laughter. The never forgetting.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It’s been one beautiful hell of a weekend.
Bean was killed by a train this past Friday, two years ago – and I still remember almost every second of that day, and still relive it at this time of year. I remember the way I got back to The Forest after helping Albert set up a canopy for a friends wedding reception, gettiong out of his yellow truck on the gravel driveway, completely satisfied from a bit of work, and lelping a dear friend. I remember how Sue and Barzula walked towards me, and Sue turned back – “Baru, can you help me with this?” I asked what they needed help on, wanting to do more.
Then I remember, and still feel, the way I crumbled, the way my legs gave out underneath me, the way all that the world changed that day. Everything. The best and truest friend that I had ever had, my girl who spent every single day with me for a short five years except for about three months with Sean and Patty who gave her a wonderful home when I couldn’t, and fell, of course, in love with her – every single fucking day, and she never went away.
She never went away. Always, every night, after I crawled into bed this beautiful creature came to the open side of it, rested her chin on the edge of the bed and looked at me, asking with her eyebrows and beautiful golden eyes. Looking at me, waiting. All it took was “Okay!” and then the smile appeared again and she was up next to me.
That is only the slightest of what I carried in my heart Friday – but no, even with the turmoil of emotion there was no time for them. My own act, and a small part in two others that I needed to to. No time, no time to feel anything. let it seeethe. Right now, you have no choice. Get the job done as well as you can, have fun but don’t let anything go, look at her longingly when she isn’t looking but when she does, nothing but business. We’re working together, nothing more. I need to stand the fuck up. get shit done. Do the best that I can and more, nothing less. These beautiful people are here to see one hell of a show, and deserve nothing less than everything and more. That is why I am here.
It went well, as far as anyone else knows.
A couple hours of sleep, and then Saturday brought the Love Fest, a musical hell for me, especially after the music the previous night.
~ ~ ~
Okay, that’s it for now. Can’t even write anymore, exhausted. My leg is somewhat better but still hurts (I’ll get to that later) and I’m still trying to recover from all this weekend was, both physically amd emotionally.
I need to be nothing right now.
Just sit, listen to music, enjoy a bit of solitude, and a quiet head.
I’ll be a bit more later, perhaps.