Husband

My beautiful husband sleeps and stirs. Billy Corgan strums his vocal cords. Rum stirs my neurons. I relish the sound, the sight, the smell, the high. His arms crossed over the slick silver tablet, the shimmer of the metal matching the shimmer of his ring matching the shimmer of his studded belt - something I remember from 14. Chin folded into the curve of his shoulder, arms folded into themselves, something missing from the grip. Lest I go fulfill...

Fighting

The dark of the sun-not-yet risen is the dark to greet my so wandering thoughts as of late. But at this precious moment it is the dark of night, of night-time music like This Mortal Coil, Julie Cruise, and the Sisters of Mercy, of whiskey in ice-cubed glasses, of low-sweeping eyelashes swaggering hips liquored lips.

I do love the night; I do miss to be alive and awake alone chasing thought trains uninterrupted.

I spent the day with a dear old friend today, one who always brings me back to asking questions about who we are, who we've become compared to who and how we were as children - a time that seemed like far to little ago. Then life just happens. Or, it appears, has been happening. We've been watching and participating but a disturbing amount of it feels passive. When we were teenagers we raged against the transition from childhood to adulthood, we kicked and fought against what the world would force us to become and as adults for the most part we just...acquiesce. We lay down our weapons and keep on our armor. I would like to think of ways to keep fighting. 

"Philosophy as a discipline of reason, argument and logic bores me. I find it empty. Philosophy is interesting and beautiful when it is pumped full of passion and fire. I like the idea that we can find philosophical truths and express ourselves through art (all kinds, but I'm interested in painting, poetry and music in particular). I love what thinkers like Heidegger and Nietzsche have said about how art is sort of the saving grace of humanity. Non-systemmatic means of truth acquisition, whatever they may be, I believe bear the most fruit, and I want to dive in. I want to see what happens when we look really closely at what's happening when a human being is in the throes of creative expression, apprehending something that moves them, when they're in a moment of passion, when they're in love. I think it's THERE that truth or whatever you want to call it, the real substance of life lies. I'm particularly obsessed at the moment with George Bataille and his writing on eros and thanatos, on the selfsameness of sex and death...the things in our world and in our lives that bring us to face those are, well, the things worth studying and looking at."

- My self from 2009

Time Stolen Back

Need more than a few unsure minutes under neon lights, needing hours of sureness in a sea blue dark. To take back just a few only teases me on the subject of peace. Walked caught glimpses of shadows of the curve of old architecture lights on a city still sleeping it is hard to make these words come out it's been too long I've forgotten how to breathe please give me more than just a few minutes just more than that. I don't even have time to dream to run pictures through my head of sunsets from the side of the globe that I always thought I would see of metals and spices and languages that strain your mind to think in directions that did not exist before. It's too quiet in this mind now it sits stagnant. Whatever inside us is fit to behold the awesome beauty of infinite things oceans universes whatever that is it sits quiet and fat and stupid and unappreciative but little tendrils creep out and strain and catch glimpses and make the rest shudder with what it wants to badly to remember how to do, and do reach its full potential again.

My favorite moments are those just before I wake up, the ones I remember faintly but with the greatest fondness before I transition into a world that is far too near the ground. The dark, breathy whisper of dreams from the other side as they are swallowed by worldy concerns and slip away are not enough to live on.
I would like to take a long walk through a lakeside forest hear the ground crackle beneath feet and suck on the tip of a green leaf take pictures with my mind breathe and smell and feel the air around me.

The Nature of Working to Live

When I am blessed enough with the pleasure and excitement and challenge of those moments when something inside of me is truly moved, something felt deeply, or some epiphany arrived at, I am at work. I am not allowed to take time to indulge in those moments by writing about them.