[something unpredictable]
i've never been brave enough to make thorough resolutions and break them and remake them in criticism of myself. last year i decided to start overcoming fears and i said i would stand up and promise myself i wouldn't be afraid to see people go, to let them go. i don't know if its that it backfired or that life is a writer with a terrible liking for irony but the year, she worked herself out so that people who left came back in the strangest ways, not completely some cyclic circle of friendship but in some tangent way best described as another dimension and oh a new road has begun with memories of the old. and others left. and forgot. but remembered. and hated forgetting. others left but didnt really go. and still i am here and watching the synapsis's contract and release themselves between us but i am unafraid which is much like not being afraid. and so to another year we fast forward to see that not a whole lot has been resolved, old wounds further cut into, new ones formed, connections made, sparks fade and reapper again and i am unafraid to let you go. but years are more like chapters in our lives than novels in our own collection of being. so another one ends with a need to fall into another but space space space on the page, turn the page, take a deep breath and
indent to begin again that which is already in progress. and this year i will not be afraid of ghosts. i will not lose myself to memory and to that dreaded wonderment of why and what if - only to be able to view the past as something though part of me - a part of me untouchable and not to be afraid of. a part that should just be and it should only support my breath. and when august comes and i move into a new room, a new world with new people and new new new i will aim to carry only myself through memory, not the weight of it all.
and my bandages fell from my skin
and tore themselves to nothing
as my bare skin melted into pure elderflower
and even though i am
under and over
weight time space
i am nothing more than here
and fine in this place
and you apologize for all the
ins and outs and inbetweens
of days gone by
of long lost nights
of spiderweb dreams
and twisted scenes
but all in all its all gone by
and i am nothing more than here
and fine in this place
the ghost down the hall
don't scare her no more
all these waking memories
leave her now
and by candlelight she spins in
and out of your head
let her be
let her be
hush and sleep
oh but she tiptoes when she
sleepwalks
but she won't fall this
tightrope escape is nothing
but a cakewalk with a lost rememberence
and she's spinning
spinning
spinning
out of your head
let her be
let her be
hush and -- just be.
i don't know what to say except that i am in love with the books i received for christmas and those i give as gifts and sometimes i think our salvation will be found in some missing poetic link. that and the counting crows are such a fantastic band and that well, music is our survival in someway or another. i went to see return of the king with my family - oh do i love fantasy - and came up with about 5 papers i want to write in my life. the visuals were better done in this than the others - camera angles, balance and colour schemes and imagery and the staging - or so i think. and i've been watching at late night (really early morning) hours movies that take place in new york, i want to memorize every street of the city and i've been drinking too much coffee oh but had a wonderful double espresso the other day. other than that i'm still playing santa claus with gifts waiting to be given and ha! packaged and mailed. oh yes and its january isn't it - which means its almost april. and april will be beautiful and the end and beginning of so so much. oh sweet spontaneous spring. until then i photograph snow and audition my heart and soul out and look for some way to make a small income so that still i can dance and write. and that is that.
Such pure leaps and spirals -
Surely they travel
The world forever, I shall not entirely
Sit emptied of beauties, the gift
Of your small breath, the drenched grass
Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies.
Their flesh bears no relation.
Cold folds of ego, the calla,
And the tiger, embellishing itself -
Spots, and a spread of hot petals.
The comets
Have such a space to cross,
Such coldness, forgetfulness.
[sylvia.plath.'the.night.dances']
indent to begin again that which is already in progress. and this year i will not be afraid of ghosts. i will not lose myself to memory and to that dreaded wonderment of why and what if - only to be able to view the past as something though part of me - a part of me untouchable and not to be afraid of. a part that should just be and it should only support my breath. and when august comes and i move into a new room, a new world with new people and new new new i will aim to carry only myself through memory, not the weight of it all.
and my bandages fell from my skin
and tore themselves to nothing
as my bare skin melted into pure elderflower
and even though i am
under and over
weight time space
i am nothing more than here
and fine in this place
and you apologize for all the
ins and outs and inbetweens
of days gone by
of long lost nights
of spiderweb dreams
and twisted scenes
but all in all its all gone by
and i am nothing more than here
and fine in this place
the ghost down the hall
don't scare her no more
all these waking memories
leave her now
and by candlelight she spins in
and out of your head
let her be
let her be
hush and sleep
oh but she tiptoes when she
sleepwalks
but she won't fall this
tightrope escape is nothing
but a cakewalk with a lost rememberence
and she's spinning
spinning
spinning
out of your head
let her be
let her be
hush and -- just be.
i don't know what to say except that i am in love with the books i received for christmas and those i give as gifts and sometimes i think our salvation will be found in some missing poetic link. that and the counting crows are such a fantastic band and that well, music is our survival in someway or another. i went to see return of the king with my family - oh do i love fantasy - and came up with about 5 papers i want to write in my life. the visuals were better done in this than the others - camera angles, balance and colour schemes and imagery and the staging - or so i think. and i've been watching at late night (really early morning) hours movies that take place in new york, i want to memorize every street of the city and i've been drinking too much coffee oh but had a wonderful double espresso the other day. other than that i'm still playing santa claus with gifts waiting to be given and ha! packaged and mailed. oh yes and its january isn't it - which means its almost april. and april will be beautiful and the end and beginning of so so much. oh sweet spontaneous spring. until then i photograph snow and audition my heart and soul out and look for some way to make a small income so that still i can dance and write. and that is that.
Such pure leaps and spirals -
Surely they travel
The world forever, I shall not entirely
Sit emptied of beauties, the gift
Of your small breath, the drenched grass
Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies.
Their flesh bears no relation.
Cold folds of ego, the calla,
And the tiger, embellishing itself -
Spots, and a spread of hot petals.
The comets
Have such a space to cross,
Such coldness, forgetfulness.
[sylvia.plath.'the.night.dances']