Unburied Papyrus

Embroiled in the enigma of existence in more strange & unsettling times, one must hold onto the miracle or risk becoming one of the walking dead. These entries are a poor approximation of my life & the wonders that pass through my spirit. If I could communicate properly how much I love you all & assign a tireless list of evolving names that fit I would, instead I offer these random reflections.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

The Ghost Learns How to Speak

There is special providence in the falling of a sparrow.
-Shakespeare

So, here I stand another victim of my own willingness to neglect. That is to say a little lonely and a less fulfilled than I would be if I allowed myself more human contact. Though I rarely if ever contact any of you, if you listen to how I speak to you when I do you know how much I care. Many of you well know Amy and I broke up. Sad as it is, this was necessary. For reasons I don't need to dip into in this arena I couldn't see us working in the long run. Do I love her? Yes. The onus is on me. If I felt differently I do believe she would allow us to be together. Chemistry, compatibility, happiness in so many variable forms ... What I'm trying to say is that I couldn't have answered her needs enough, nor she mine.

At least this time the woman I loved didn't lay there like a corpse after asking me to "turn her on." I remember struggling through my revulsion at Rachael's cruelty---for love, trying. Pain, making the empathic exchange impossible. Rachael felt like the moist slats of wood on the boardwalk when I was a kid. On a cold, rainy northwest day the saltwater Sound smelled fetid. My small bare feet padded the damp but not slick boards as I tried to shake off the cold, and my own cold, on the way to a fuller view of the day's majesty but the gray pall hung over the mountains and the birds weren't pealing cries of joy.

This time a war didn't follow quick on the break-ups heels but another martyr went to rest in the name of peace. http://cpt.org/memorial/tomfox/eulogies.htm Last time it was Rachel Corrie, whom my most vivid memory of is the time she took our couch.

Helping her carry it out (she was pretty buff for being as thin as she was) I was doing my best not to notice that she wasn't wearing a bra and I could see down her shirt every time she went to set the beast of a couch down. She was so kind, when pried at she showed a remarkable mind capable of compassion and communicating. I was too immature then to really connect with her. Sure we got along fine and had some nice fireside conversations at potlucks laughing and ruminating but Justin had a huge crush on her so I was wary of getting too close. A couple of times I had gotten along well with Justin's love-interests and it seemed to be bothersome. After the way Annie acted towards me post breaking up with Aaron there was no way I was going to get very close to one of my good roommate/friend's ladyfriends.

Well, I suppose I should wrap up. No gargantuan spilling forth from me today. If I have skipped out on you lately when I was supposed to call or attend a show or whatever. Sorry. I've been in a weird way. Almost at peace for me in that relative way, thinking about moral relativism and buying local and the capitalist economy as the fireseed of all this commodified bloodshed and ignorant vanity. Still, the spring is enchanting. Birds and trees and lilacs. The writing's been good. Aaron is thick with ladyfriend. The Flaming Lips have been on constant spin in my house. Everyday I walk and walk strengthening those old walking bones like a mountain pilgrim going to rest in a cave or see a temple emerge around the bend of a pass. I have a songlist mixtape of what my current mood is that I'll post soon along with an excerpt from my play.

Love you all. For all of us, work with joy on eliminating the dehumanizing aspects of the collective we.