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.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
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…"
"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…"
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
I shouldn't be blogging
It's 5:09AM
I have midterms in art85 and History 176, starting in four hours. Too late to go to sleep, too tired to study, too unmotivated to give a damn.
I shouldn't be blogging.
I shouldn't be listening to Ratatat.
I shouldn't be awake still.
I shouldn't have let the art85 midterm sneak up on me.
I shouldn't have put off the American History one.
When I make a list of what I should and shouldn't be doing, all of the things on the--shouldn't list--are things I enjoy and vice versa with the--should list--. So does it really matter? What SHOULD you be doing right now? Is it foolish to think that a "should" list be comprised of things that you enjoy; and likewise a list of things that you don't enjoy be labeled "shouldn't?"
Reprised list:
I should have doodled in my Moleskine.
I should have photographed the sunset today.
I should have kissed my girlfriend goodnight.
I should have went to see Zombieland.
I should have written about my day while I was still regarding it as favorable.
I have midterms in art85 and History 176, starting in four hours. Too late to go to sleep, too tired to study, too unmotivated to give a damn.
I shouldn't be blogging.
I shouldn't be listening to Ratatat.
I shouldn't be awake still.
I shouldn't have let the art85 midterm sneak up on me.
I shouldn't have put off the American History one.
When I make a list of what I should and shouldn't be doing, all of the things on the--shouldn't list--are things I enjoy and vice versa with the--should list--. So does it really matter? What SHOULD you be doing right now? Is it foolish to think that a "should" list be comprised of things that you enjoy; and likewise a list of things that you don't enjoy be labeled "shouldn't?"
Reprised list:
I should have doodled in my Moleskine.
I should have photographed the sunset today.
I should have kissed my girlfriend goodnight.
I should have went to see Zombieland.
I should have written about my day while I was still regarding it as favorable.
Ecrit: The Blog
Welcome to Écrit: The Blog.
I am addicted to expression.
I love writing, music, photography and adventuring.
My name is Kyle Latrell Scott, I got it tattooed on my back to remind myself that I can't run away from who I used to be.
I can't promise you much about what this blog may become, but I can promise that I will post some photography, musings, complaints and writings. However this blog's primary use will to be chronicaling my continuous evolution into the person I want to see each day when I look in the mirror.
I am addicted to expression.
I love writing, music, photography and adventuring.
My name is Kyle Latrell Scott, I got it tattooed on my back to remind myself that I can't run away from who I used to be.
I can't promise you much about what this blog may become, but I can promise that I will post some photography, musings, complaints and writings. However this blog's primary use will to be chronicaling my continuous evolution into the person I want to see each day when I look in the mirror.
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