dancing barefoot
2004-07-10 ~ 3:15 a.m.

i think i enjoyed the butterfly effect more because i journal the way i do. increasingly over the last years, writing to myself has become my biggest compulsion, my biggest addiction.

i realised years ago that there were holes in my memory. for whatever reason. i had many journals growing up. i stopped for a few years, then burned out (no pun, really) in college and picked it back up when terri and i were together. eventually, i started writing a little differently, and this is all it will probably ever be at this point.

i don't have it all, not in context the way i would really want it. much of it is lost, burned, scattered, buried, you get the idea. then many computer crashes later...and i can still find pieces. kim and i even still exist on a floppy disk or two. this journal exists now only because i need it.

i needed it. i still do. not really this one so much, but i love the moons here. they are instantly soothing to me.

of course, i always know the whole story. the full picture. so i can write in vague words and context and you would never figure it all out while i know all along. it is as random as seeing a pair of shoes on the kitchen floor. but that is the point, because it really is just my scribblings and my scrawlings about my day, my thoughts, a lover, an ex-lover, friends, and a whole lot of sfuff...

and i cram it up i mean really jam it all up in here with the backspace and the delete keys and i get it all as tight as i can or sometimes loose, not at all tight..."unravel me..." and the words come flow out of me and there are puddles of words and i am lost in feelings overcome with thoughts. either way, or feeling nothing at all, i have not failed to record most of my percieved large life events in here. the most important being the most subtle of references sometimes.

i have it all. and that is something i didn;t have before. it is a piece of me i might have lost like so many others, might still in the years to come....

and i am afraid, truly afraid, that i have or can or will find a way to eradicate every single good memory i have so that i can memorize in vivid detail every second of every bad one. it took me a long time to figure out what i was doing. funny, i really just wanted to forget slectively...with a little more control.

this is proof of good times. but, as it always with life, it is also proof of the really shitty times. i cling to both. they are all me, or parts of me.

i believe muse said it a while back when i wrote an entry like this on a day before this time...i write because i need to read it.

and this is a really great medium, it is easier than my pen...though i do love my pen. but notepad is just so damn handy...and my handwriting is so ... yeah.

and i don;t think anyone asked me lately why i still type here...so i am answering myself. *conversing with self is noted.

i also just called myself a coward and a ... i lost that. but...

as you will note. i have been better. many more affirmation type statements being typed out and mulled on.

now lemme rewind...

woke up five calls in to the day and drowsy but ready. big day. terri and alice came over. was so good to see terri. we chatted and alice ran a business errand and then we went to the original house of pancakes. so many different kinds. i am plain, almost always so plain...but i love to eat my plain and look at the fabulous. pancakes with so much stuff...look like thin crusted pies. wow.

and then i had just barely enough time to squeeze in the much anticipated hair cut. thankfully. and it is not too bad i think.

and then shannon came over for a visit. and we watched the butterfly effect and i was amazed that she stayed and watched the whole thing with the alternate endings with me. and we talked during pauses. and i hope she was sincere in saying she felt peaceful and (a motion indictating) level tonight. was a nice time.

and then...now it happens. i have to stop typing. and take my thoughts elsewhere because they are sacred thoughts. my thoughts, unwilling to share in public. like the majority of my thoughts really. but then again, i can't really shut it off. between the folds and sheets tangled with time and lovers and faithful companions...we all share those things that are between us. carried in the softness through the roughness and making it unscathed to all the shores of tomorrow. my most sacred thoughts.

i have some pretty decent thoughts sometimes. and other times i don't quite hit the mark strive right for the target shoot true and come out clean.

sometimes the wind blows. and it just fucks the whole thing up. or sometimes the wind makes it the moment where i capture every single thing ...the thing i will choose to write about when i close the day up just like i am doing right now.

closing it up and filing it away as a day lived and breathed and recorded in part so as not to be forgotten.

i have learned enough over time and a few years on well-paved and un-paved rutted out gutted paths.

i squint and my eyes gleam with tears and i mutter about leaking a lot the last few years...i tilt my head just so and stare at the plaster on the ceiling until i can remember everything back and feel that just for a second...everything but the time. not this time. another time. that other time. any other time. it won't always be this way. or maybe it will, but not about these times.

my playlist is a big key to me. it gets mentioned a lot. almost anytime i mention a song it is because i am quoting lyrics like sonatas that have already captured the pure essence of all i had to say and making sure i can't trip over it. i love music.

these days it is all lucinda williams and beth orton, liz phair and tracey thorn, morcheeba and some older patti smith.

it is the lyrics of patti smith singing "dancing barefoot" that have been spinning in my head for days.

i think of my mother and how she told me when she was younger she loved listening to the blues. i remember my father playing the harmonica. good times.

meant to be in bed hours ago but i kept hester up late talking about too many things to ever possibly list but if we have nightmares of terrorists and transgendered soldiers and bell curves in evolution...

well, yeah.

there is a short list of novels/books that i have actually started and never finished. it is a short list because this is somehow unacceptable to me internally. but...my new book might end up on this list.

i read too much.

i couldn't wear lace up tennis shoes when i was a little kid. don't ask me why the two thoughts came so close together.

thoughts hurt like contractions when your fingers are moving.

tracing out and over into smoothly, oh so smoothly, the hills and valleys and interplay of shadows and the placement of every incredible particle that is you.

your very existence is a brilliant argument for creationism.

i pour the words out there like wine...or spilled ink...but mostly blood and tears...

most of them are for me. but sometimes they are for you.

"we shut our eyes we stretch out our arms and whirl on a pane of glass an afixiation a fix on anything the line of life the limb of a tree the hands of he and the promise ... that she is blessed among women"

take care*

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