Unseasonal Migration of Birds
What sets me off to one side
for silent needles' deluge
concealed in priceless niceties
To whom do I owe the debt
of brains rescinding embrace
Literally or figuratively
and pejoratively
the prick
964
There is something fiercely wrong with me at the moment. I am tired, all the time. I forget to eat. I keep forgetting things, appointments, how to speak articulately. I doubt my passions. I doubt my goals. I doubt my abilities. I doubt my significance. I feel very alone, but when I attempt to be around people I feel uncomfortable and only want to be by myself again. I do not want to go to school, or to work, or anywhere else. I do not want to smoke cigarettes or drink coffee, but I continue to do these two things regardless. I do not want to answer the phone. All I really like doing is listening to music. I wish I could understand what has brought all of this about. I wish it wouldn't last so long.
edit: I've made plans to go out dancing tonight, in an effort to erode these feelings.
I am a 26 year-old sea oat
I wonder if I will ever make connections with people like I did when I was a teenager. The friendships then were so much more intimate than any that I have now. With the exception, of course, of the lone friend I have now that I met then and have stayed close to. Oftentimes I really ache inside for more meaningful friendships.. somebody who likes my company enough to just come over without asking, or to call me at least once a week. The number of people that do that now has dwindled. Perhaps I am not trying hard enough. But then again, this could be something that should come naturally, to those who rightfully deserve it by being blessed with certain qualities that make a conscious effort unnecessary. Or perhaps as people get older, they just get busier, and have less time for such things. Or less desire and need.
Tomorrow I will be twenty-six years old. Socially, I feel like I'm 13, I swear. When is this magnificent change going to occur where I no longer hold on to things of the past… cherishing memories that others brushed off long ago? My hairline is receding, so I guess that is some sort of sign. Maybe the beginning. But I still listen to Belle Fucks Sebastian, and Tired-New-Wave-Hits-From-The-80s and I have been doing this for years now.
It's like the older you get, the more people forget about you. More people forgetting more. It makes me want to just disappear to some other part of the country and start seeing all the stuff I ought to see.
There is very little holding me back anymore.
—
Becasue, Frequesncy & Withe
As I was discussing with Peter today, I do not remember what it feels like to be healthy. Waking up in the morning, full of energy, looking forward to the day ahead. Cigarettes.
I've been smoking too long. I am disintegrating with each day. I am undesirable, to myself, to others. Maybe I've reached that point where it just doesn't matter anymore.
To quit smoking, I have realized, one would have to legitimize one's life as worthwhile. To quit smoking, I would have to feel as though I were saving something worth saving. Simply put, and not to sound as though I am seeking your sympathy or pity or some trite commentary, I've pretty much screwed up my life. Is it irreparable? Ehh.. most likely, yes. Does the damage I've inflicted on others warrant such a hasty dislike for oneself? Sure does.
Can I really quit smoking when I get back from vacation like I've been telling myself and everyone else?
Winter.
Winter is here.
And with it come the typical changes inside.
I haven't been able to make complete sense out of it, to understand why I start feeling like this. Awful memories begin to flood back, and I catch myself longing for days long gone. My dreams are long, intricate, dramatic stories made of bits and pieces of the past; stories that are difficult to think about and best forgotten. It seems to me, emotionally, that yesterday was always better than today. That last year is always better than this year, and so on. On closer inspection, it is obvious that this is not true. While elements of 2004 have been awfully sad, overall I have to admit that it has been a good year compared to most others. I am in Tallahassee, enrolled in school, making a nice dollar at my job, giving to V89 and receiving so much more than I can say (no, I'm not stealing from catalog.. geesh). I have Amy closeby, and I love her dearly. Five months from now will mark the 10-year anniversary of the day we first met. She has enriched my life in important ways that no one else has before or since.
Finances are in order. I am succeeding in school, as my grades would prove to me. Socially, I'm still an oaf. I try to make bonds with people, I want so badly to succeed with this, but I find myself still very frustrated. Blame lies nowhere, though I see the obstacles posed by myself, by others and by sheer circumstance. That I can see this clearly is an accomplishment in itself, I imagine. I simply need to escape the house more, and when I'm out there, I need to say more and listen more.
So why then do I find myself so crushed by this season?
If I were asked, I would tell you that winter is my favorite time of the year. I suppose I love the weather the most. I love it because it matches more closely this feeling that rules my life. It is a Joy Division song, or a Sigur Ros song, or something from the new, amazing Julian Fane album, Special Forces. It is not cold, for cold does not exist. It is a lack of heat, of warmth, of brethren, of affection. It is empty. It is dark. It is often painful. Yes, I feel these things in the winter, and the winter mirrors me. The same feelings are evident always, at all other times of the year. Perhaps winter makes it okay for these emotions to thrive and sustain themselves, more so than, say, the summer does.
In winter, I am reminded of all who have disappeared. I am reminded of the ones who ran away, the ones who I pushed away, and the ones who just had to go. I am reminded of low organ keys held for long measures. Of "processions moving slowly." I think about good times with people who are nowhere to be found. Sometimes I try to go out and live amongst others, or to invite them into my room, to drink, to laugh, to be wild and crazy. It seldom works. Because all I really want when I feel like this, at this time of year, is to be alone, without interference and surprise. Without spontaneity or interruption.
Because it is familiar, I suppose.
a risky fuel to burn
Postscript The title of this article is a lyric excerpt from the song "Being in Love" by Songs: Ohia
Indeed, it is much harder to let something (or someone) go when you have nothing (or nobody) of near-equal value to replace it with.
article 1103
why is it so hard to let go? why can i not convince myself that the well has run dry, and it is only futile suffering from here on out? that the mountain top has either been reached, or is entirely unreachable and i have already conquered the highest pinnacle possible, and it is all downhill from here? or boring staring? i have seen it all, i have seen the trees, i have seen the willow leaves dancing in the breeze… i've seen it all, there is no more to see. "I've Seen It All" excerpt from lyrics
Björk
Selmasongs (2000)
i just keep holding on for dear life to this fantastic mirage i have built for myself. i need to learn to let this go because it is destroying my life. the only one i'm sure i've got.
article 1102
oh how vividly i remember being your everything. how i meant so much to you and how that fact meant so much to me. i like to think that i loved you, but perhaps i just loved that you loved me. in any case:
now i know i've been segmented. i've been dissected. i am being used for parts, for pleasure, for money and opportunity. the feeling is disgusting, to tell you the truth. but i wonder how long i will let this go on.
the age-old question poses itself again: Is the pleasure of love worth the pain?
but perhaps i am asking the wrong question. it might be better to ask, is this love at all?
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