things, they are a'changin'

i want to take this blog in a slightly different direction. im stating this blatently so as to hold myself accountable. i want to incorporate more of my entirety into this instead of simply venting when my insides can no longer hold their flaming contents.

so we'll see how this goes!

im currently reading:

the road - very intense. im only able to read a few pages at a time due to the overwhelming emotional heaviness that pervades it. excellently written.

anna karenina - delightful read. exceptionally long, but this new translation makes it easily digestable, far more then previous translations have. i may actually finish it this time!





both of these books are absolutely fantastic reads! and satisfying my needs for a more fulfilling read.




recently i've seen:






away we go - not quite the humour i was expecting but excellently delivered nonetheless

amelie - i have no idea how its taken me this long to see amelie, but thankfully this has been rectified. this is an absolute gem of a movie and makes everything seem better after watching it.

cheri - this is absolutely decadent. the acting is horribly delivered, but the set and costumes are absolutely stunning. based on the book by the french feminist colette

recently discovered poetry:

the thing I came for:

the wreck and not the story of the wreck

the thing itself and not the myth

the drowned face always staring

toward the sun

the evidence of damage

worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty

the ribs of the disaster

curving their assertion

among the tentative haunters.

- adrienne rich

perhaps i shall indeed perish from the longing

so much to say. so much to write. so much more to not say.
life is a confounded thing.
my head is full of nouns and verbs and adjectives used in an attempt to make sense of the pictures or feelings or intangibles floating around. how do you do justice to sitting on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette, watching life go on around you while feeling nothing but dead? how can one possibly express the empty ache for a misplaced closeness or the utter satisfaction of knowing a smile? can language ever truly accomplish the arduous task of longing for the things that can never be again?
while i resoundingly think not, i do try.
oh how my contradictions go.
earlier this week i believed myself to be losing my mind. i've lost my heart. isnt it the next logical thing to go?
i do so love a good zombie flick. but not when im the main character. i go through my days as a poser, checking off my to-do list. laundry - check. dishes - check. smile - check. breathe- check. my tick marks act as a calendar of sorts for how long ive been here but moreso what ive accomplished. it feels like so much more when even the little things are difficult.
my world is spinning and im getting sick.
nostalgia haunts my days, while living (or the lack thereof) haunts my nights and im caught in this weird paradigm of what could be.
always so full of promise and gusto. but to what?
have i made you proud? you who always knew better, always knew more, always knew... knew what? your condemnations and expectations have only served as markers for where i havent been.
i want to remember that this is what i want. this is what ive chosen. may i be happy please?
perhaps it is not meant for me. perhaps longing is truly to be my only constant bedfellow. and the others are merely affairs.
i was meant for more and greatness. or at least something a little less anorexic then this last month has been.
viva l'indépendance!
continuez votre règne, oh mon coeur indompté

i'm still in this in-between valley of sorts. mountains raise up, tall and high, in either side, both beckoning me to their peaks. i know not the name of either, or what lays in waiting, but i am jointly lured and thus remain in my valley. so many things have changed and the scenery is so different. when the rocks gave way, so did my foundations. or so it would seem. i was climbing the mountain of 'life together' - marriage and children and white picket fences. but i lost my footing and had nothing to hold onto. so i fell to the bottom. and until right now, i've been just sitting here, stunned and confused, unsure of how to proceed. do i even want to climb again? i've since become bored. and restless. so i've decided to try it again. a little bit at a time. and certainly a different mountain. but i need to climb. to feel the blood in my veins, to break the earth in my hands, to taste the sweat. i must press on. being broken and bloodied does not discredit me from the summit. it only compels me to push harder, to press on through the pain. to know that the view from the summit will be worth the climb. i want to feel alive. 

-veracity-

i can see her face sometimes.

when i'm quiet and still

she revisits me.

every so often, i am unable to look away 

and we take a trip to places i hate.

his arms are wrapped around me,

close enough to whisper his perfectly placed words, 

dripping of truth and lies, 

i can taste our passion and my stomach lurches.

i encounter the rush of being discovered.

how could something so sweet kill so instantaneously?   

and so it began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

his arms held me close while his soul clenched mine tighter.

our sweet kisses soon left me desperate for air. 

all of our longings for one another left me longing for anything other.

and thus began my demise.

every so often, when i am quiet and unawares,

she creeps in softly and i see her sweet face

still so naive, so trusting, even after all this time.

and i am no longer able to forget that which should not be remembered.

she guides the way to the places i hate, to the places where death is stored.

the screams mistaken for music puncture my ears,

the throbbing bass pulses as my own heartbeat,

she sways and turns as if this moment is it.

the house lights a mere backdrop to the true art unfolding. 

that of predator and prey.

a quick word, a genuine smile, the rush of being discovered, and...

it is finished.

 just like that. 

without a moment's hesitation, her fate is sealed.

unabashedly, she takes the hand that will ultimately deal the final deathblow.

and thus it began.

first the truth, then the lies, then the lies that resembled truth.

late nights, midnight drives

hidden, undiscovered, surreal.

with the ease of one well versed in the tongues of liars, 

he created for her an altar and begged her for his salvation.

she acquiesced most earnestly and thus sentanced to die for his transgressions.

inscense {laden} of the sweetest words burned religiously

to cover the stench of his rotting intentions. 

his utopian lips, dripping of milk and laced-honey, 

spread their venom with every quixotic encounter

tangling their tendrils in her brain, 

benumbing her judgement and weakening her spine. 

 

and when the time for repentance came, 

he laid her on her alter and sacrificed her there.