School is bad for your health. My internal clock is officially on New Zealand time. Or just survival mode. I think I'd make a good narcoleptic.
I realized today this is my first speaking Day of Silence. In four years. It really hit me, what a long and twisted road this has all been, from that lonely conversation in the thunderstorm five years ago. If you're reading this, babe, thank you for inspiring me, for perpetually challenging my expectations of the world and of myself. I wouldn't trade those long nights, wondering if we'd see daylight among the living, for anything. From you I have learned, in the most sobering real way, that life is a dynamic place, and that I am called to make my mark. That living means holding on to those around you, opting in, choosing to make an impact. So today, for today, I remember so much more than civil rights, gay rights, I'm reminded of that need for action, the desire and anger thats the perfect kick in the ass. Thank you for teaching me, though you probably never knew it, and are thousands of miles away currently. I hold you, in a very real way, as part of my consciousness, my breathing, my goofy looking conscience. There may be blueskies and good jazz on the speakers, but there are things to be done.
Life is...insane.
Four concerts in Eight Days. And suddenly I'm filled up with this intense gratitude for it all, so fully greatfull for all that I have and all that I'm fortunate enough to be able to do.
Weird.
Two 10 pagers, two research persentations, three finals, visa applications, orchestra concert, and all the odds and ends of tying together my life here in final preparation to flee the country. I will, it will happen. I'm at one of those deliciously pivotal precipices, where I know everything will get done, because there is no other option. But I can't for the life of me fathom how I'll get from here to there.
Christopher: I'll be there for ya. No idea how, or why, but you're my friend. And I'll come through.
Enough.
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz..."
About Me
- Me, I'm holding out hope for a zombie attack
- “What are you, life? A silent theater of Chinese shadows, a chain of dreams, a charlatan’s store? Or a gift of unrequited love---that’s all that is intended for me? What about happiness? Ingrate, you’re alive, you weep love strive fall and that’s not enough? What?...Not enough? Oh, is that so? There isn’t anything else.”--Tatyana Tolstaya
2 comments:
Sorry for dropping off the planet . . . Life likes to kick me in the ass sometimes, this being one of those times . . . love you . . .
"Deliciously pivotal precipices..." I love that phrase and I might have to steal it for my own use. I know exactly what you're talking about, the intense and overwhelming gratitude for the priviledge of being able to do so much. Hang in there, kid, we're here with you.
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