freewriting inspiration

You were singing that song that you sang the first time i ever heard your voice, and i decided right then that i would never let you go, the way the dove never lets the sparrow go, even though i don't know exactly what that means, or if it means anything at all. and couldn't you fall? not very far, just into my arms, into love, where i could maybe show you what it means and what's between when two people know and believe. it's like hearing your voice when you're singing that song that you sang the first time that i met you, never forget you, such an overused rhyme but if it suits your time you can't neglect it. it's about so much more than making words fit together, more about the space between them where nothing needs to be said but you know exactly what you (both) mean and it rains and you sit and you listen to the nothing but the
drip

drip

drip

of the water on the pavement of the road you've driven so many times before. and what for? nothing but to get to you for that half-hour before the world ends to sleep, that necessary evil that keeps us apart every night, even when we're closer than close should be. i've never had a dream about you when you were lying next to me, like my brain knows you're already there so it doesn't have to invent you, and it could never make an improvement anyway . . . how could i say that the following day when we woke and the sun was shining like the light off a tree that came from the sun to begin with that you would still be there? it's the way you just know, like hearing your voice when you're singing that song you were singing the first time i saw you, and i could feel in my bones that "alone" was a word that i never would quite face again. but who's to say the calamity is in the solitude? we never do seem to know, even when we know, there's always that doubt and that mission you have to gain my admission that i've ignored it, but i can't force it, because doubt is as healthy as hearing your voice in the morning when the light shines off the tree like the sun itself and the bird sings that song you were singing the first time i knew you . . .

-7/2/2006

(this much was written in one shot [i.e. no pauses], but i feel like it could have been longer)

songwriter's block

i really want to write a song, but it's not coming. and it seems like it's always like this, but every other song i've written is already written, so i don't think of them that way. most of them were slow and tedious, and i can think of one that was quick and painful, and another that was slow to start but ended up relatively quick and that was painful just because of the subject matter. we never did finish that one, even though we said we were going to. i don't really need the closure anymore, i guess, but it would be nice. if only to get the three of us to play together again.

there's this song on the curious george album by "jack johnson and friends" that says "three is a magic number." i suppose it's true. it seems like it would have to be. my high school latin teacher told us that "the universe runs in threes." he used it to justify leaving after his third year, because otherwise he would have to stay for another three. the tao te ching says, "out of one comes two. out of two comes three. and out of three come all things."

what's it like, being nineteen?

the song i'm trying to write is an unapologetic apology. i think. i want to toy with this idea of regret a little more. my idea is that i don't regret anything, but i think i ought to revisit that periodically. there's one decision in particular i'm trying to write about here. i have a chord progression and half a melody. it will happen soon enough.

i like to say that every decision i've ever made has been mine, and i own it. and it's true. but that shouldn't necessarily mean living without regret, although that should always be the goal. if i do something really stupid....what does "regret" really mean, anyway?

i don't regret loving you.

(that needs to be a lyric.)

it's friday night. and it's only 10:00. why do i want to go to bed? (because girlfriend is out of town and i have nothing else to do.)

i went to a drum circle tonight. i think if i go to a drum circle once a month or so, it will be good for my soul. i feel like part of something bigger than myself, and there's a sense of power but also the necessity for humility, and you really do forget everything while you're in it. it's healing. i think i need a drum. i almost stopped at music & arts center on the way home to check out prices of things, to see if a drum is something i will be obtaining this summer, or 5 years from now, or not in the foreseeable future.

i had fun this afternoon. the last hour of work is the worst, especially on friday, so really all you can do is have fun with it. lots of big hugs, and chasing bubbles, and tickling, and falling on the "grass." (really, why can't little kids have real grass?)

i'm sleepy and i have the beginnings of a headache and i've already put the guitar away, where it shall stay. speaking of which, let me know if you might want to buy it.

before going home

i should be writing on paper, but i want to put this somewhere that other people might read it. really, i want to put it somewhere that you might read it, even though you don't know who you are. suffice it to say, this is addressed to someone.

i am listening to the end of ten, the part that isn't a song and comes after "release" and i should really get you into pearl jam. it doesn't sound like most of the stuff you listen to, but the words....and a few songs are just....i don't know.

it feels like a rearviewmirror kind of day.

it's only everything.....oh, god. i'm dreading going home, really i am. for so many reasons....it was so strange, watching everyone pack up and go away, and by the time i was packing up there was no one to keep me company, and by the time i leave there will be no one to say goodbye....realizing how much i'm going to miss shannon and how much i already missed you, because we don't really talk anymore, between engineering and the fact that i'm always surrounded by gay people.....i'm tired and i'm shaking and i don't know why. not really.....it's more of an extended twitch? and only in my left arm, and i'm not sure what that means.....

supposedly the store manager who doesn't want me to work there isn't going to be there much longer, and i take it with a grain of salt but it could be true, and it makes me want to go back....i wanted to go back anyway, but now i think it will be ok....

so two people who i'm not sure how i feel about broke up, and i'm not sure how i feel about the fact that they broke up, and no one will talk to me about it, and i want to know everything but i'm afraid i don't have a right to--actually, i'm pretty sure i don't have a right to, but i'm afraid of what might be the reason--typing comes so much easier than pen to paper; it's so much faster--and i'm afraid of going home to face that, and deal with it, and see all those places and all those people and spring break this year nearly killed me, and i can live with my family and won't mind that and the food will be good and oh, i'll cook for myself next year and get away from campus food, but it's everything else in my town....my house is fine, my family is fine, but i've got to get out of that town....

i don't think after this i will ever go back.

mostly i want you to understand that i love words, and i take them very seriously, but some words can mean so many different things....and i don't want you to get the wrong idea from an anonymous note that sounds very serious and was, but not in the way that i hope you don't take it....love is such a strong word, and it means so many things....

i want to cry, i need to sleep. maybe i'll cry myself to sleep. that's always a good one. i should pack up my computer before i go to bed. god, i'm tired.....in so many ways.

you were my first friend here, it occurred to me today. and one of my favorite memories from this year is the night we came sat in the window in the honors college for two hours watching snow.

spring

the daffodils are all dying, and tulips just aren't the same.

today's fun question:

"so are you allowed to have a boyfriend and a girlfriend at the same time?"

there is a large protest taking place outside my window.

to the people who demand that president bush step down, i have this to say:
if bush resigns, then cheney will be our president. and he shoots people in the face.

The Sculptor

you trace every line
of this fine form,
marking the curve of the shoulder,
the way the collarbone juts beneath the skin.
your words make it so.
each kiss awakens
a spark of life in what may as well have been marble
before you.
your touch is magic,
making her live,
making her beautiful.

7/26/05
i found this when i came home for spring break.....i like it.