Posts Tagged ‘ postaday2012 ’

Geno

He’s a good listener.

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On writing…

Just sayin…

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Almost

Sometimes something stays with you forever. It is always a heart-pounding, breathless, thrumming immediacy. Other things are not so powerful, they beckon only slightly, they still exist intellectually but they are now part of the background hum; filtered-out chatter. They have become nonsensical and half-real. I think of many of my posts in these terms: when I read them I can almost feel them again.

Almost.

Influx

These things I write. These emotions I have been given the gift to evoke. I have at my disposal descriptors for nearly every possible emotional-experiential influx.

I can make the words I choose become motion pictures in your minds; make every feeling so gruelingly real that you are forced to feel it. I will chain you to my muse and tied to my dream, my nightmare – you will fly and you will cry.

And the beat goes on

Once again I am drawn southward. In a matter of scant months, I will be breathing salt-tinged air.

This is good.

Hiatusical like a musical but not.

I have been busy. It’s the playoffs (playoff beard in this heat has been murder but I persevere); I’ve got all sorts of reasons for why I’ve been basically ignoring my blog.

None of them are really true though.

It’s mostly just that I don’t have all that much to say right now, and wasting space, even digital space, isn’t my style.

I’m sure that my blog will once again have daily posts, I’m just not going to promise that that day is today.

Soooooo, yeah.

Keep rocking hard.

Exhilarate/Annihilate

Inhale.

Life flows through me; something awakens within, something ephemeral and barely tangible. It almost doesn’t register on my consciousness.

My heartbeat skips and flutters, something tickles my mind.

Exhale.

Synapses fire, my pulse is pounding in my mind like drumbeats.

Drums, drums in the deep.

Inhale.

I cannot find words. There are none. I sincerely cannot think.

Exhale.

For the first time in my life I realize that I don’t need to be able to describe something to know that it is real:

“I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep and there are no words for that.”

-Brian Andreas

Inhale…

A Job of Work

Whatever happened to that phrase?

A job of work. As in, “I’ve got a job of work to do.”

I have held many jobs in my lifetime. I hold several right now. Some are paid with chits that are sanctioned as currency by one government or another. Others, the important ones I think, are paid in dividends beyond price: son, friend, brother, boyfriend, husband, lover.

These sorts of jobs define our human experience, they make our existence what it is, was and ever will be. Whether good or bad, these jobs will come to define us in ways we will never entirely comprehend.

I hold many jobs of both sorts at this exact moment, my favorite is rather obviously that of being a writer, or being a good brother. I get paid for both of them, one somewhat differently than the other . . . but I do like to keep busy.

At any rate light at the end of tunnel, there is a beach waiting like a blank sheet of paper, a new chapter waiting to written upon its crisp emptiness, a story unfolds.

Perspective makes everything change, skew slightly left or right. Distance makes things clear.

I’m enjoying saying my silent goodbyes on my drives to and from, silently wishing-well into unknowing eyes, during salutations and valedictions. It’s been much more sweet than bitter. But that’s from my perspective.

Today is…

“Today I will do what you won’t, so that tomorrow I can do what you can’t.”

Stars

Every time I look up into the night sky I realize that I was born a thousand years too early.