Clark Gable by The Postal Service

I was waiting for a cross-town train in the london underground
When it struck me that i've been waiting since birth to find
A love that would look and sound like a movie so i changed
My plans and rented a camera and a van and then i called you
"i need you to pretend that we are in love again" and you agreed to

I want so badly to believe that "there is truth, that love is real"
And i want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd
I greased the lens and framed the shot using a friend as my stand-in
The script it called for rain but it was clear that day so we faked it
The marker snapped and i yelled "quiet on the set"
And then called "action!"
And i kissed you in a stye that clark gable would have admired
(i thought it classic)

I want so badly to believe that "there is truth, that love is real"
And i want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd
I know you're wise beyond your years, but do you ever get the fear
That your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?

Jump

I used to have a little park behind my house. I used to curse the noisy daycare kids that frolicked around all day while I had to leave to go to work or school; curse the kids because I couldn’t let my dogs out because they just made them bark. Now my back yard is a public parking lot and the memories I have of children playing and greenery seem to be growing more rosey each day.

I don’t wish to make the case that memories are always skewed, because they are. I just wonder what role memories play in our lives. Do we buy cars because we used to own one of the same type, that one that “never had problems” that one that you “should have never sold” ? Do we live in a place that reminds us of our childhood? Do we really seek to wed people like our parents? Why?
Life is a cold place, much warmer than it once was, but still full of the turmoil and savagery that we read about from centuries past. Perhaps we need to recede to the familiar from time to time. Perhaps our lives are determined by just how far away you’re willing to get from the things you already know; from the comfort of the familiar.

What happens though if you have no familiar to grasp? What happens if everything seems just as familiar as the last thing? What happens if you don’t like the past and going back to it seems just as absurd as dealing with the here and now? I suppose it’s times like those that you have to jump. Any direction, any distance. Just jump and see where you land.

Throwback Thursday: A Sonnet Without Meter

Throwback from:
Apr 27, 2009 12:40AM

A Sonnet Without Meter

Baby let's run away. Run away and be free
Let's go to Colorado for the weather or the trees
Or maybe North Car'lina for the mountains and the beach.
We can go anywhere as long as it's away from here.

I'll burn a CD that'll last us all the way,
with all the songs that connect us.
We'll be there before you know it
and you'll always want to stay.

I'm sick of this old town and I know you're sick of yours
these people and faces get old and what's more
you've been able to live without me
but how much longer can you go
can you live with me on your mind still years down the road

You say you'd pay a lot, for the musings on my mind
but we don't need money, just trade straight down the line
I'll take a little time out of each and every day,
and write about your smile and everything you say.

We'll write a book by living and each day we'll turn the page
Just promise you'll be by my side to tell me what to say.

I feel so good when you're next to me
and so empty when we're apart
It's only 9 million inches if you meet me half-way
But you have to have the courage to start.

Believe in me and i'll believe in you
I want to feel you flowing through my veins
Just give me one shot and I promise
I'll never let you watch a sunrise alone again.

Quicksand

I can feel the pressure from the grime and grit surrounding me. It happens fast, that unexpected step into the puddle you didn't know was there. The first feeling is annoyance. It starts small, at first its only that foot. You square up to try to free yourself and suddenly you're in with both feet.

"Why didn't I see this coming?"

Eventually you feel it all the time, constant twinges of the inevitable. You're up to your knees.

"Its not so bad, just make a plan."

Wriggle as you might, you only seem to sink deeper. Panic spreads over your body. Your plan doesn't work and anxiety takes over. You reach down to dig out your feet; wildly clawing your way out. You stand up again and you're up to your thighs.

"Should I just give up?"

Your plan wasn't good enough. You didn't think hard enough. You didn't think long enough. You didn't see far enough ahead. Ponder it all because when you look down again, you're up to your waist.

"What do I do?"

Feel the crushing pressure against you. The weight has you paralyzed; you can't move your legs anymore. You're terrified to move. You're not going anywhere. As the thin layer of silt crusts against your arms you realize the fallacy in it all. You actually thought you could dig yourself out? The undersides of your fingernails are caked in drying clumps of desperation. Elbows crusted over making every movement feel robotic; and for good reason. You did exactly as you were supposed to. You gave in and now you're stuck.

"So hopeless..."

The grit fills your belly button and begins climbing toward your chest. The force cramps your stomach and shortens your breath. You fight it so hard but Fate is your only companion on this trip. You see faint glimmers of hope. With every breath you open up a tiny gap between your chest and the hopelessness that surrounds you, only to be sealed in a moment later.

"I can still make it."

Its now or never. Maybe positivity will help. Look up, think about rising out. Move gently, don't disturb your surroundings, that was your mistake before. Take deep breaths and maybe you'll get out of this... Nope.

"Oh no..."

You're up to your armpits, only head and shoulders remain. Go ahead, fight. What do you think you'll see next time you look down?

...and I'll be here by the ocean

How can I leave you when you look so beautiful? You slept defiantly; twitching your nose at the dawn that broke harshly over the black skeleton trees like a fumbled wine glass, spilling a pink champagne sky over limbs left bare by winter’s approaching chill. Today though, winter’s chill stands no chance against the chill in my heart. I have to leave you today and I don’t want to. It’s hard to leave your warmth for uncertainty; hard to leave your understanding for culture-shock; hard to leave familiarity for uncertainty.

How could this be? I’m Kyle Latrell Scott: The one who dreamt longingly to disappear to the Pacific Northwest, nothing but street-smarts and a trifle more than pocket change to make it through. Was I lying? Was I worried? Not even… I didn’t have anything to miss. Only some family, unyielding in their own ways, unwavering in personal ideals. Family rooted as deeply into this Ozark soil like an old oak. I had nothing to grow with; nothing to learn from or profess to.

Now I have it all—a connection—an anchor. Not one that holds me down, but one that keeps me close because that’s the job of an anchor. Safety. Security. Reference.

Not a moment will pass that I don’t think about you. If this trip wasn’t so uncertain in the first place, you would be right there next to me. If there is a next time, you WILL be right there next to me. Little do you know, you will be there with me. I carry you everywhere I go, because your sunshine drove away the little rain cloud that hung over my head for so long, and that is something that I could never go back to. Miss me, baby. I’ll miss you.

What you've taken from me

Life is all a matter of perspective.




I used to have so much, how did you manage to take it all away from me?

The days and nights used to pass without measure. Worry fed my tired soul and deception kept me attentive when sleep was a long lost memory. The difference between reality and daydream blurred to the extent that I only felt alive for brief fleeting moments that came in violent shocks to my nervous system like the last kicks and gasps of a drowning man. When I went a night without a phone call it meant that whoever she'd gotten drunk and ended up in bed with didn't bother her enough to pick up the phone and ask me to come pick her up until morning. My mind worked in a long painful cycle: repair, repress, repose. And on and on it went.

You took away the lies.
You took away the torment.
You took away the fights.
You took away the darkness in my soul.

Tell me what it's like, to take away someones life? And in return give them something so unfamiliar: Truth, honesty and love. What are these things? What do I do with them? So easy to give and receive that I felt like something had to be wrong. You took away selfishness and gave me favors with no debt. You took the pain and replaced it with care. You trashed the brokenness and instituted stability; traded difficult for easy.

Just make one promise. Don't give any of it back. Take these things from me and throw them in the garbage. You know exactly what's best for me now.

Throwback Thursday: Ezekiel

Well looks like it's Throwback Thursday. I decided to dig into my old blog and find one that's pretty special to me.

"Ezekiel"
by Ecrit
June 16th, 2007

Strangely, when I feel the most alone, the place that I go is not a populated area, but rather the most remote location I can find. The solitude and beauty of an Ozark forest is something most usually found in fairytales. However one afternoon, I was walking in a particularly remote area of Shannon County and came across something that changed my life.
Tip-toeing along the yeilding banks of the Current River in late fall, I came upon a particular overlook, and seated on the stump of an old oak was a child. Six or seven years old, perhaps. He had skin, pale as the bright winter sky, icy blue eyes and the most amazing mop of platinum blonde dreadlocks. I was so struck by his appearance that I didn't question why a child was in the middle of nowhere, by himself in the woods. I was creeping carefully along the edge of the stream and I knew he hadn't heard my approach. I stopped and thought a moment, because I didn't want to startle him. I lifted my foot to step on a felled birch branch, hoping it's snap would appropriately announce my presence. "Don't step on that branch," he said. "I heard you coming a long time ago." Stunned, I continued along carefully, as not to step in the chilly water.
I presented myself in the clearing where he was perched. It was a beautiful spot, overlooking a bend in the Current. The swift riffles of the wintry river looked like millions of crystals rolling over each other in the morning sun.
"What's your name?" I said, trying to be friendly. He grinned widely and said, "Names tell you nothing about a person, but it's always one of the first things you ask of a stranger. Names allow you to act as if you know a person, when you may not know anything more than what that person was called at birth." I must have looked confused while pondering his statement, because he asked if I understood. "Not really," I replied.

"Okay well what is your name?"

"Kyle."

"Ah.. Gaelic. Are you Scottish?"

"No."

"Well, Kyle can be derived from Caol, Gaelic for 'a woody area.' Do you live in the woods?"

"No."

"Well it can also mean a person whom dwells in a strait. Do you live by the sea?"

"No."

"Okay well then it can't come from 'Kaile' either then, which is a medieval Saxon word for a ship."

Once the boy received enough negative responses to make his point, he said, "See, I knew you better before you told me your name than I do now."

I must have looked dumbfounded because the boy asked me if I had lost my way. "Physically? No." I responded. "But spiritually, perhaps. See I like to…" "Take walks in the woods because it's quiet and beautiful and you can think," the boy interrupted. "See how much more important knowing a person is, than knowing their name?"

Now, utterly perplexed, I sat down in the pine needles, joining him in his centurion-like observation of the river. "You seek completeness," he said. I asked him if that was a bad thing, and he said, "The most important thing to keep in mind while seeking an unachievable goal, is to make sure that you never expect to achieve it. I sense that you were depressed and confused, far before you stumbled upon me sitting here. How come?" I replied, "Well I don't really know where I fit in this world. I rarely ever get what I want and hope for. Not speaking materially, but the chapters of my life always seem to end up with me stranded in an unfavorable position."
I sat back and thought to myself how right the boy was when he said I sought completeness. I was surprised that I had never considered it to be so before. I had given it a lot of names in my head; the stage and characters always different, but the plot always the same. Maybe I didn't need completeness. Maybe I didn't know what it was that I needed to feel good inside. I was staring intensely at the ground between my feet, the world always seems alive with motion when I ponder something deeply for the first time.
"In the end everyone is seeking the same thing," he said, "only to realize too late that the farther away you get from where you started, the farther away you realize your destination lies."

"Go on a journey, don't return until you find what makes you feel good inside. Then you will know what it is you're looking for, if you want, I can help you."

"How?" I asked.

I was still looking down when he gave his answer.

In his final words he replied, "I will put my spirit into you, and you shall live again."

I paused, suddenly knowing his name, and also knowing when I looked up he would be gone. I lifted my head and uttered his name.

"Ezekiel…"