The moon was so bright in the midnight sky that you could almost see blue sleeping the night away in the skies above the blackness. Below the slumber shaded grey clouds rolled northeast while the whitecaps on the water became luck dragons rolling slowly shoreward on their sides.
It was alone against this humidity of memory that I ventured out. Restless in my skin, I couldn't really find a way keep myself at home, only to realize once I got somewhere that I didn't really want to be there either. Stray smiles sent my way were nice, but it was like there was a distant voice whispering in my ear. A sound that was too quiet to decipher, but just loud enough to make me wish that I was somewhere else entirely.
So I walked the beach for a while. I watched the waves and the tiny lights of the fishing boats off in the distance. I watched a memory of myself, only a few weeks ago when this wasn't a walk by myself at all. My feet in the water, looking up the shore at the ghosted images of a silent moment that I can't help but feel sure was yet another clear opportunity missed -- just like so many green-eyed others that ended up walking away against the snowfall when I wasn't quick enough to take the hint...
But what I couldn't (and in a lot of ways, didn't want to) explain to her over the din of the music and the men with their cel phone holsters and buckets of beer was that all day and indeed all night long it felt as if I had been running away from an unnamed feeling. Despite the best efforts of friends old and new, this shadow still stays with me, darkens the door, and for better or worse ends up as islands of myself across the bedcovers.
..Then today I spent most of my time watching this movie where everyone talked too fast for the subtitles to keep up (or perhaps the subtexts were too distracting for my DVD player to keep focused on it's task). I don't know if it was really all that good or not; but it certainly gave me plenty of pauses to think. Lots of places to consider and ponder; thoughts like circles spinning round and around until the kernels could no longer handle the heat and forced themselves into brilliant death blooms to fill up the bag with steam, instead of finding purchase in fresh soil to begin life anew.
It was alone against this humidity of memory that I ventured out. Restless in my skin, I couldn't really find a way keep myself at home, only to realize once I got somewhere that I didn't really want to be there either. Stray smiles sent my way were nice, but it was like there was a distant voice whispering in my ear. A sound that was too quiet to decipher, but just loud enough to make me wish that I was somewhere else entirely.
So I walked the beach for a while. I watched the waves and the tiny lights of the fishing boats off in the distance. I watched a memory of myself, only a few weeks ago when this wasn't a walk by myself at all. My feet in the water, looking up the shore at the ghosted images of a silent moment that I can't help but feel sure was yet another clear opportunity missed -- just like so many green-eyed others that ended up walking away against the snowfall when I wasn't quick enough to take the hint...
It happens.I'm beginning to think that sometimes I get so focused on 'staying in my lane' that I keep missing my own exits -- even when it was the promise of those untraveled paths that started me out on these roads in the first place.
Try as I might, I guessThe night was still young enough when I found my way back from the shore that I decided to try for a "plan b" -- only to be accosted for the second time in as many weeks for not smiling by a woman I didn't know. This time it was a waitress, but the message was much the same: that someone looking like I did shouldn't have any reason to frown (which again I wasn't really aware I was doing).
I can't deny what I am.
But what I couldn't (and in a lot of ways, didn't want to) explain to her over the din of the music and the men with their cel phone holsters and buckets of beer was that all day and indeed all night long it felt as if I had been running away from an unnamed feeling. Despite the best efforts of friends old and new, this shadow still stays with me, darkens the door, and for better or worse ends up as islands of myself across the bedcovers.
..Then today I spent most of my time watching this movie where everyone talked too fast for the subtitles to keep up (or perhaps the subtexts were too distracting for my DVD player to keep focused on it's task). I don't know if it was really all that good or not; but it certainly gave me plenty of pauses to think. Lots of places to consider and ponder; thoughts like circles spinning round and around until the kernels could no longer handle the heat and forced themselves into brilliant death blooms to fill up the bag with steam, instead of finding purchase in fresh soil to begin life anew.
Popcorn = Death?
Too many thoughts to run through
Too much excitement for me to focus
Too many shadows to ever truly outrun..
[Listening to: Queensryche, "Neue Regel"]
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