(exceptthemandtime)

How isolated can you be?

Before reality comes snap, crashing in around to wake you.
Maybe a week in the keys a new home and a new week finally jump started me
God knows it wasn't the bullshit job
or was it?
was it a new refreshed life with brand new friends?
Always for the people, new acquaintances could blossom and grow,
in ways one couldn't imagine or ignore
or was it I always had trouble letting go, getting too close to be commercial?
making some office full of fast food bureaucrats uncomfortable?
or was it an album full of gang vocals like Gordo always said he would make?
The addition and brothers?
A stage painted so it looked like a Strummers bonfire?
A stunningly beautiful new reason to live life to the fullest?
I once thought all the smart girls would end up with the stupid guys
I thought wrong
they would end up with mediocrely beautiful gentlemen
that they said with conviction were gorgeous
while some off shore banker part of me swore up and down that they were crazy
even if they were kind of right with a wink and swimmingly fabulous
someone to treat them kind and right and make up a new definition of a happy bride
(even if we have to wait for now)
for a fast forward button
that got you deep into life
passing all these pillars of salt
scribbling in a note book searching
only to look up in awe gazing like someone who had come at once to re behold the stars
realizing that the search was over and that they didn't need to look anymore
they will never look back
neither will I
living on the beaches
someday in the future seems like a reward enough
when someone really truly genuinely loves you
what really could you need?

(commonthread)

I listen to music. It helps me relax and heals me when I am hurt.
Ties everything in together in a moment.
A language you can speak. It`s so `nice to hear it.
I had a ton of great conversation but I had a letter to send and I never produced the package.
It may just end up in a dead letter depot even though everything I wrote in it was true.
I gotta work up the nerve to send it.
I already got the idea for the story.
About memories and how they change.
About the things that we live and how we understand.
All framed up and tragic.
All new and exaggerated and dramatic.
How everything gets rewritten with age.
I put my best foot forward and my pen to a page.
Fingers on the keys, tapping away.
I`ll produce what time has to offer me.
Some sort of beautiful, pretty legacy.
A story you gave me a tale of loss and redemption; what every good story needs.
Themes, tension and richness.
I want to get lost in these characters as I write it.
Good inspiration is so hard to come by.
Your just giving it away.
All the proper characters, all the scenes, all the headspace.
Thanks for inspiring me.
I hope I can do it for you one day.
I think I`ll mail that letter anyways.
Why not just say what you want to say.
Fuck what anyone thinks.
I will mail it away.
Smiling I smoke as she pulls away.
Great evening, good conversation so glad we had the chance.
Before you went your way.
A pleasure to get to know you a little bit.

I`ll write but the old fashioned way.

(hewhoiwillbe)

I sit alone with a keyboard on my lap.
Eleven thirty and I can't sleep.
The car is running but there is no where that I feel like going.
Eyes closed I lean back and imagine what it must be like with nothing.
How hard I didn't have to grow up.
This is a brave new world one lacking of principles.
Its cold and silent out, the snow mutes everything.
I wear a sweater and a scarf but I have taken my hat off.
A simple black touque.
The snow is falling and the light is different here.
It bounces and chatters, reflected off the perfect wet surface of a sparsely occupied parking lot. Its comforting in its silence.
It seems to deaden the noise of the world.
I feel like shit but I spark a cigerette anyways.
I want to change something in my life.
Build better habits.
Its not that its hard, its just that I am vain.
I that simple honest way.
I have been feeling more and more myself over the last couple of days.
Finally letting myself sway to the rythmn and stagger.
It's been here all along.
I just couldn't rise to my feet with all this weight bearing down on me.
It took me eight years to find my way through all the bullshit I imagined.
So i'm out in the cold slowly killing myself.
Learning how to just say fuck it.
I have half lived my dreams all my life.
Stood on the crux and carried this transparent cross.
Stumbled around drunk putting words together.
Not an ounce of training and it shows.
In a true paradox thats what makes it great.
Buried my potential and lied to myself.
I said I knew how it felt to be open and venrable.
Let my talent figure itself out.
Its been far too long,
Since i believed in myself.
I know what is good and I'm teaching myself to let it out.
I am no longer scared.
No more afraid then the next guy.
Failure is part of life.
Rather it is how we react to it that really counts.
I am just an animal.
A living breathing machine.
With eyes, heart, stamina and courage.
Always learning and I will always be judged.
Weather I like it or I don't.
I refuse to agonize anymore.
To tell people its alright when I know it's not.
Like it or hate it.
I will project my own luck and pay my own way.
I will succeed where others have failed before me.
The snow is falling slowly.
The flakes are large and they melt on my windshield.
It seems so perfect its sexy.
In the most natural way.

(thosehornsandchellos)

I can hear the music as it plays him in.
Hes dressed in fine robes and his beard glistens.
Its hot and oily but the dust doesn't seem to stick to it.
It just drifts aimlessly around around in the common breeze.
He walks with a certain source of grace. He floats along and seems not to touch the ground. Commanding.
A prescence.
He sits down slowly and starts to speak.
A low kind of voice that seems to sooth and persuade.

I can hear the music as it plays him in.

A soft reggae groove.
A pulsing healthy rythmn and a sweet melody.
"Your novel", he began to say.
"I'm not sure if I want you to use my name."
"This one wasn't really written by me. I'm not sure your accurately representing me. "
He paused and said. "People are taking this so literaly."
"Really? Don't they have anything at all to add?"
"Someone? Somewhere? with something that they need to say."
He would be confused thinking.
"I thought that dad gave 'em free will. Does this have something to do with me as well?"
I can hear the music as it plays him in.

(waiting...)

I love it when my prayers get answered. A little sun for an overworked heart. The day before halloween was beautiful, sunny and serene. Nobody made a remark about my spelling or put me down for being a human being. Today was a solid day. Roots and foundations are like tall trees. They stand quiet and listening and talking with the wind. Just admiring the vista as the winter rolls in. A pause long enough for you to catch your breathe, just enough time to feel like you are catching up from so far behind. Gaining on that ideal imagined life.
The pause before the go. That spot that time seems to slow down and let go.
Before its crashing chrescendo of action and reaction, before its arms close.
I learned to love to know its getting cold. Such a long summer, such a short autumn.
The its ice and snow.
Its hard not to love changing seasons.

(awelcomematfornoah)

This is perfect, this is why I seem to function best at night. It feels safe here in the dark, basking in the purple glow of the light that hung around late smoking and conversing. The subtle shine that the day left trapped. Locked up under cloud cover it hisses with the wind trying to escape back to where it belongs. The wet ashphalt glows in sepia tone. This province is sleeping and I am all alone. Loving every second of solitude. Curled up in the cool october air. Watching the weather as it changes with the day. A journal made up of wires, copper and silicon. I like to leave my skeletons out here, its not like my closet is full. I figure they could just use a little air. I've been brain storming a story lately. One about loss and beauty and the things that pull on heart strings. My cheeks are flushed and I am tired. I feel all out of ideas, like mine just aren't pretty enough. All worn out from thinking about the things in life that really mean somthing. Not the vain world ending fantasy that has occupied my dreams form day to day this week. It all seems unreal after the events of an otherwise innocuous monday. Overshadowed by a sense of euphoria and joy. Today a couple of good friends of mine started a family. I am mighty proud of them and they will be fantastic parents. Standing in the white sterile halls of the hospital made me ache. It seems everwhere I look there is a reminder of the cycles that run like a hidden application in the desktop background of existance. It made me wish that I could start a family. That I was with someone that made me that happy. I'm sure that one day it will come. That strength I see when I look at them. The strange uncanny feeling of creation. The divine grace that comes with being a parent. I can only guess at the weight of such responsibility. I want to find a way to capture the feeling I felt today watching two people so in love bring something so incredible and beautiful into this frightening and mangled world. I felt like an outsider in many of ways in that hospital room but I do really, truly appreciate how hard these two and a half souls have worked at making me feel so welcome. I am honored to think that someone asked me today how it felt to be and uncle. Even if its only honorary. I want to be blessed with the same sacred journey someday. The beauty in life seems to just floor and amaze me everytime that I think hope has disapeared. It leaves me mute sitting out in the cold tapping on a keyboard. It leaves me feeling short on time and pressed for action. I am 26 going on 27 and these two seem to have it all figured out. Such courage and tenacity and all I can do is stand in awe and respect it. Put my nose to the grind stone ad go to work at making my life a better one to live.
Good luck and god speed and welcome to existance, welcome to this crazy strange place.
Hope abounds after all it would seem.
Hello Noah, be blessed and live a wonderful life.

(theprocess)

Can't sleep. It's two and I'm exausted. I can't sleep. I can't drink, I still feel last night. It might seem to the casual passerby that I can't keep trouble out from under this cloak. This isn't for me I think, channeling this feeling into key strokes. I have slipped back into uncertainty but it's only a temporary thing. Watching my breath dismantle itself in the cold morning air. Anxious but aware knowing this time how I got here. A slim chance at reviving old habits but I'm smarter this time I think I have finally realized that line. The one you observe in a third party way. You respect yourself by not crossing it, by being aware. I will find my way in this dying empires glow. I will sacrifice the pleasures you seek in the burning embers of street lamp glow and insomniac twitching. I really don't need this anymore and it makes me happy to know that. So here we go maintain the strength an will this bullshit out the window. I don't feel like punishing myself anymore. I think I'll build my self a home. It's without walls and mortar, bricks, wood or stones. It dewlls with me where ever I lay my head. A strong foundation of family, responsibility and song. I can take this feeling with me anywhere I go. Remind myself how rewarding soberness is.
Moving slowly along.