tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55130223608417927352024-03-12T17:27:52.691-07:00wear it another dayCapone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-52697012128790131242016-04-28T01:46:00.001-07:002016-05-27T00:27:00.305-07:0004.28.16<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
sometimes i forget that it all started with writing. with letting go, and breathing and letting the words flood through me.<br />
<br />
some people - most people - don't understand that. the music of words. their beats, their underlying meanings. i mean, we live in a world where the word "literally" no longer exists. not really.<br />
<br />
sometimes i wonder if i have forgotten how to write, or rhyme. and then i'll meet someone that reminds me that i haven't - i just lost the words. and you stare into eyes that you don't know, but begin to hear their thoughts and think: magic! but, no. it's simple, natural, human connection. <br />
<br />
i love that: the simple truth.<br />
<br />
i love that i am simple, and in that simplicity i am an universe planted into an atom unfolded.<br />
<br />
i am far more than you give me credit for.... and yet nothing at all.<br />
<br />
i can love you forever, if you let me.... and i promise never to leave. but, i will - because you will ask me to. because a love like that is frightening.<br />
<br />
here.<br />
<br />
sometimes i forget how far they live - my best friends. and, yet, i feel the in my heart beat.... because my heart is no longer mine.<br />
<br />
i have found a way to give it back to the creator, whilst exponentially growing and giving it away.<br />
<br />
that's how i know that i have not forgotten how to write, that's how i know i still create when speaking the words of others.<br />
<br />
but, i am still afraid. beyond that - i push through.</div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-59197880981925654992015-12-19T11:12:00.002-08:002015-12-19T20:30:18.419-08:0012.19.2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
you came hurtling towards me at the speed of sound,<br />
i heard you coming.<br />
i saw you coming - and, in that difference between the the deafening boom and the blink of light...<br />
in <b>that </b>difference <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>/distance </i></span>- darkness.<br />
i could not stop the collision and the explosion and the shattering...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">but, you are not the first disaster.</span></div>
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue;">floods, eruption, chaos... stillness, peace, then hope.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> the time between us counts in no way, so much so it counts in every way. it was nothing. and, everything. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
you were a meteor. i was in your way. was i in your way?<br />
the natural consequence: my destruction.<br />
<br />
next time: i will remind myself that i am not a planet, but a heart.<br />
i can move.<br />
i can save myself.<br />
i can hear the oceans shift and see the sun's rays and feel the changing of the winds...<br />
<br />
you came and left and i have no idea what to do with <b><i>this</i></b>.... <br />
thank you / i'm sorry... <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(i wish we never met)</span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-21652163742742381172015-11-18T07:42:00.001-08:002015-11-18T07:42:13.395-08:0011.18.2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
making new friends terrifies me. it's an onslaught of revealing and vulnerability and... it's exhausting. and, i love it. it surprises me every time - it shouldn't, but it does. what it doesn't do - however - is replace those who are (i can't think of a better word right now) safeguards, who are heroes, who are lights and loves of my soul.<br />
<br />
i guess - today - i am hyper aware of the gratitude i feel for these external forces. today - i am hyper aware of the powerful changes i have applied to my own internal forces....<br />
<br />
may we all get goosebumps around those we love - however we love them.</div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-50726415102964684832015-08-11T12:03:00.001-07:002015-08-11T12:03:17.827-07:0008.11.2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
it's been a while.<br />
<br />
things have been rushed. slow. painfully intangible. sometimes, all too real. wonderful.<br />
<br />
happy? <span style="font-size: xx-small;">sure, why not.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span>most of the time.<br />
<br />
it's an effort though, no? <span style="font-size: xx-small;">most of the time, yes.</span><br />
it's a decision. i chose, yes "i am happy" - because i know the alternative and that is boring, and predictable. <br />
<br />
my friend did this thing... thought it was insightful... so, for fun:<br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">A- Age:</span><span style="color: blue;"> ...</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">B- Biggest Fear: </span><span style="color: blue;">disappointing those i love, not being able to provide.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">C- Current Time: </span><span style="color: blue;">12:00 pm pst</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">D- Drink you last had: </span><span style="color: blue;">Water</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">E- Easiest Person To Talk to: </span><span style="color: blue;">Q and Mar (and Susi)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">F- Favorite Song: </span><span style="color: blue;">i have a rotation. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">G- Grossest Memory: </span><span style="color: blue;">being told to know my place ...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">H- Hometown: </span><span style="color: blue;">LA</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">I- In love with: </span><span style="color: blue;">love</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">J- Jealous Of: </span><span style="color: blue;">N/A</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">K- Killed Someone? </span><span style="color: blue;">Nope</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">L- Longest Relationship: </span><span style="color: blue;">2 years</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">M- Middle Name: </span><span style="color: blue;">N/A</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">N- Number of Siblings: </span><span style="color: blue;">real 1, like....too many</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">O- One Wish: </span><span style="color: blue;">too many</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">P- Person who you last called: </span><span style="color: blue;">Lindsey McDowell</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">Q- Question you're always asked: </span><span style="color: blue;">Where are you from?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">R- Reason to smile: </span><span style="color: blue;">Any</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">S- Song last sang: </span><span style="color: blue;">The Last Time (Gary Lightbody / Taylor Swift)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">T- Time you woke up: </span><span style="color: blue;">5:30am</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">U- Underwear Color: </span><span style="color: blue;">Grey</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">V- Vacation Destination: </span><span style="color: blue;">where i want? London.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">W- Worst Habit: </span><span style="color: blue;">too many</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">X- Xrays you've had: </span><span style="color: blue;">Everywhere</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">Y- Your favorite food: </span><span style="color: blue;">N/A</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #141823;">Z- Zodiac Sign: </span><span style="color: blue;">Virgo</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Cheers.</div>
</div>
</div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-67080848943110999762014-10-31T11:07:00.001-07:002014-10-31T11:07:21.268-07:0010.31.2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
self assignment : breathe.<br />
self goal : breathe.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> i am awake, and as such: there is hope.</span><br />
<br />
i asked him how he does it. get by. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(the answer was short, sweet, and honest. but nothing i can use. not for me.)</span><br />
| for those who have been down the rabbit hole, it is hard to not remember it. think about it. sometimes even miss it. there was a predictability in <i>that </i>unpredictability. but me, i like steadiness. i like routine. i like commitment and the moreness of life. |<br />
<br />
self assignment : serve more / do more / be more / love more (and try to trust more)<br />
<br />
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Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-50568330931139899972014-10-28T13:16:00.000-07:002014-10-28T13:16:12.457-07:0010.28.2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been a while. I've been overwhelmed and underwhelmed... I think the overriding feeling, however, has been: not enough.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">i'm not enough.</span><br />
<br />
It's an interesting life, this one. Exhausting. This is not a reflection of anything other than : <i>things should have turned out different, no?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I'd say a moment to catch my breath would be great, but I'm not sure a moment is enough. I'm grateful, and sometimes sad. I'm happy, and sometimes lacking. I'm hopeful, and sometimes sure that this is it...<br />
<br />
A friend last night said: you need to write down what makes you feel vulnerable and play with that.<br />
<br />
So. It's been a while. I've been overwhelmed and underwhelmed... I think the overriding feeling, however, has been: not enough.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> i'm disappointed that i have disappointed so many people (that i love and admire); including myself.</span></div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-31058337324460342682014-04-21T01:35:00.001-07:002014-04-21T01:35:13.012-07:0004.21.2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
Listening to Emeli Sande's version of "Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall" - the power of these verses ("cathedrals in my heart" - in particular) slay me every time. The belief of something so massive, so sacred within us is a powerful concept and truth. Hidden from the world, it is within us and that sacredness is there for us to share. A prayerful/spiritual experience in sharing ourself with those we choose.... with that I reflect on a passage I heard many many years ago: Matthew 19:24 : And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. In connection to this, I think of the Baha'i passage: All that is in heaven and earth I have ordained for thee, except the human heart, which I have made the habitation of My beauty and glory...<br />
<br />
What this makes me feel - and though I know the connections are mine and lack full rationale and logic - is that that so much of the material and fears of this world just can't fit into our hearts, so we build up these walls around it making it harder for the light of love to come through to, into and from it.<br />
<br />
We are so desperately playing the "game" that we waste time that could have been spent in the light of affection and love and hope and..........truth.<br />
<br />
Cathedrals in my heart.... and sometimes, sometimes, I hear a choir singing. I feel the vibrations of prayers. I know of a truth that I have purpose. Sometimes, I am able to recognize patrons of that edifice, because in the light of truth we can not hide the realities of love.<br />
<br />
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Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-84773928966184499792014-04-18T01:03:00.001-07:002014-04-18T01:03:20.223-07:0004.17.2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
i watched the movie "the big empty" years ago. it struck me: clever, witty and oh so cheerfully dark.<br />
<br />
in it there was proposed a deeply metaphysical quest - and its answer led to the demise of the protagonist. ain't that the way it (always) goes? <br />
<br />
no. but, that 'always' is neither here nor there. <br />
<br />
in my own personal quest for peace i find myself faced with many of my deepest vulnerabilities - and the beauty of that is : know thyself. since i am not a narcissist (lucky world), i am not hung up on knowing myself. i am hung up on integrity and being there for others; taking my quest for peace to a deeper and more rooted level. see there paradoxes there? i do. and i would say that i don't care what you think, but i do. i just don't let it sit in me the ways it used to.<br />
<br />
so it makes me wonder - now - what if you could really reach your quest.....what then? <br />
<br />
what if you woke up with a bandaid? would that make it better? </div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-67069266326912575932014-03-14T01:57:00.000-07:002014-03-14T01:57:00.507-07:0003.14.2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
the advice we give and receive, i am observing, is so heavily based on our experiences, that often we may not know what it is we are actually receiving or offering. i suppose, above all else: we must remember love, we must always choose love, but when it gets to the bones of it - we must apply respect.<br />
<br />
i recently shared a hurtful experience with three very different friends, and received three very different responses. BUT - at the heart of all three: you are worth more, you deserve better. <br />
<br />
we are all worth more than we believe. we all deserve better than we allow ourselves.<br />
<br />
so - maybe in addition to respect: forgiveness? yes. forgiveness. of where the pain originated from, and towards ourselves (for allowing ourselves to be hurt to begin with).<br />
<br />
and with forgiveness comes a sort of peace, and then hopefully joy. it could be (in a slippery slope way) suggested then that by choosing love we chose respect, forgiveness, peace and joy? (maybe.)<br />
<br />
i have taken the foundation of all three advices and have accepted where i stand in the light of the truth of circumstances - as uncomfortable as it may be. moving on - with love.<br />
<br />
i am happy. i am loved. i search for forgiveness and peace (and in some brief moments find it). it's all unknown to me, and for the most part i don't get it. but what i do got are amazing friends and family that exercise patience with me, and somehow manage to speak my language (on most occasions). above that - they have created a space for me to feel safe, and that is how i know. <b><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(thank you my usuals)</span></i></b></div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-91863016110385711212014-03-06T23:05:00.004-08:002014-03-06T23:05:34.418-08:0003.06.2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
i spent some time with a friend today. she has experienced heart break and betrayal. she has faced it boldly and openly. to say i am proud of her is strange - she is living up to the light in her, so to expect less would be the strange thing.<br />
<br />
after we talked, i got to reflecting. i tend to try so hard, until i can't try/do anymore. well - i used to. now - i'm not so sure. <br />
<br />
as another friend pointed out to me a few weeks ago (paraphrased): <br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>friend: you bounce back faster. like, way faster.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>me: that's a good thing?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>friend: yeah.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>me: okay.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>*silent beat*</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>me: most of the time i just don't know.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>friend: about what?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>me: everything... people... everything.</i></span><br />
<br />
so, i suppose, the thing is this: i don't want to fight for people, i don't want people to fight for me - i want peace. i want ease. i want challenge but not out right difficulty. i want to expect and have things expected of me.... i want to trust. i want to be trusted. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>me: i think i was born in the wrong era.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>friend: no you weren't. you just have to find a way to understand that people don't all love the same.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>me: so what do i do?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>friend: keep loving, but you don't have to do anymore than you have.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>me: but...</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>friend: love from a distance. pray, meditate, send all of your love over... just not yourself.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>me: oh...</i></span><br />
<br />
so. i am sending all of my love over (and possibly a bit of myself). <span style="font-size: xx-small;">do <b><i>you</i></b> feel it?</span></div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-82949547489569275702014-03-04T23:59:00.001-08:002014-03-04T23:59:10.341-08:0003.04.2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
hooked. that's what a friend of mine calls it. this process that i am experiencing. it's kindof exciting because it is not at all crippling. it's actually surreal. detachment from a place of health and conscience. peaceful and almost happy.<br />
<br />
hooked. like a fish? like a junkie? no - not a junkie... there is no high - only crashes. so a fish. there is an embedding of moments, experiences, hopes, (dare i say) expectations. i am ok with expectations. i am okay with hopes, experiences and moments - and perhaps that is why i am okay with the scar that this unhooking will leave. it'll be a fond reminder of some really good (some great) moments. it'll be a reminder that i survived and grew thicker skin (and yet still choose to get back out into life and give all the love i am capable of giving...).<br />
<br />
hooked. yeah - that's a good word. and during these nineteen days i am working on letting go. holding on to all the love, and sending so much love, but letting go. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(and strange that you make it so easy)</span><br />
<br />
pretend time is over - i'm ready for real.</div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-71504865971951415372014-02-18T22:29:00.001-08:002014-02-18T22:30:40.121-08:0002.19.2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">"you know - i really wonder sometimes if i am just not cut out for this world. i mean - i love it, and have immense moments of happiness, but most of the time i feel like i'm just stumbling through a forest of people and i have no compass.</span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
not being emo - just reflecting on my lack of understanding people. myself. life.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
all the stuff of the making of a good writer and movie maker i suppose."</div>
</div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-36870815746244159042013-10-29T22:11:00.001-07:002013-10-29T22:11:09.128-07:0010.29.2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
“One day, he’s going to know. He’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parents names. He’ll know how old you were when you learned to ride a bike, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. He’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your freckles, your laugh lines and your birth marks. He’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. He’s going to know why you’re awake at 5am most nights, where you were when you realised you’d lost a good friend, why you picked up the razor and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. He’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. He’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your parents. He’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He’s going to know about your love for mayonnaise, your dream of being famous when you were five, your need to quote any film you know all the way through, and your fear of growing older. He’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your stroppy pout, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget and kiss. He’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. He’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clothes everywhere, take twenty minutes to order a Starbucks, have to organise your DVD’s alphabetically, and check your horoscope… just incase. He’ll know your McDonald’s order, how many sugars to put in your tea, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you need your sandwiches cut into triangles. He’s going to know how you feel without you telling him, that you need a wee from a look on your face, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. He’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else? He is still going to love you.”<br />
Anson (via theperkofbeinginfinite)<br />
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Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-40018424614320690792013-09-17T21:17:00.001-07:002013-09-17T21:21:35.108-07:0009.16.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
how do we repair ourselves? is there a way?<br />
i want to move to London - my mind already has, leaving behind a void (or maybe that's my missing heart).<br />
i want to be in love with him, but he lives in Paris so that kind-of means he's in love with every woman... maybe he sees me in them?<br />
so - let it be settled: i want to be settled. <br />
(maybe i wasn't cut out for happiness the way everyone else seems to be)</div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-71663425689042667812013-09-11T17:44:00.002-07:002013-09-11T17:44:25.339-07:0009.11.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">“two people who were once very close can</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">without blame</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">or grand betrayal</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">become strangers.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.” </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5431334.Warsan_Shire" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">Warsan Shire</a><br />
<br />
somehow - this reminds me of serval things and people.<br />
<br />
i am in a new place, with new dynamics, but constantly reminded of a past life... <br />
<br />
i wonder about how we got here? did we just start mid conversation and picked up where we left off in some other life? because, i never knew about your pain or soreness - and i know you knew nothing of mine. i just know that i was drawn to a strength and peace you seemed to so effortless offer (and some will tell me - maybe even you - that it was projected, but i don't believe that to be true). it took some time for us to actually open to know each other. maybe i just move slowly. i know i did with him and lost so much time. "boundaries" they tell me. what does that mean? we lose time and hearts to time and boundaries... maybe it was easy with him because he and i picked up mid-conversation too. maybe the language barrier allowed us to communicate more honestly with the words we knew.<br />
<br />
maybe.<br />
<br />
</div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-33643319474961977492013-08-20T16:17:00.000-07:002013-08-20T16:17:19.494-07:0008.21.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="head-red" style="background-color: white; color: #c91f25; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold;">
Virgo Horoscope for week of August 22, 2013</div>
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<img align="left" alt="Verticle Oracle card" border="0" height="195" hspace="10" src="http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/tarot_cards/tarot17.jpg" width="136" /><img alt="Virgo (August 23-September 22)" height="36" src="http://www.freewillastrology.com/images/header.virgo.gif" width="277" /><br />
Novelist James Joyce once articulated an extreme wish that other writers have probably felt but never actually said. "The demand that I make of my reader," said Joyce, "is that he should devote his whole life to reading my works." Was he being mischievous? Maybe. But he never apologized or issued a retraction. Your assignment, Virgo, is to conjure up your own version of that wild desire: a clear statement of exactly what you really, really want in all of its extravagant glory. I think it'll be healthy for you to identify this pure and naked longing. (P.S. I'm not implying that you should immediately try to get it fulfilled, though. For now, the important thing is knowing what it is.) </div>
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Maybe it is time for all of us to ask what we want, live our lives fully and honorable and prepare ourselves for the bestowals of the universe. </div>
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Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-31548571190209572132013-07-14T23:35:00.001-07:002013-07-14T23:35:19.656-07:0007.14.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><i>me: you are not most people</i></b><br />
<b><i>him: we are not most ppl</i></b><br />
<br />
it's be a heck of a week. so much to take in, and even more to let go of. i have forgotten faces, places, feelings (and we know that is strange for me - because i don't forget most nothing), but i can't seem to forget the things i really want to.<br />
<br />
<b><i>me: (insert heartbreak and tears)</i></b><br />
<b><i>her: (insert unparalleled love and support)</i></b><br />
<br />
what happens when we sit still, i wonder? i don't think we are meant to. i don't think <b><i>we</i></b> are ever meant to catch our breath, it's just one hit after another - and there is no magic for us (we make the magic). We are the wizards that the world no longer really sees (she and i would be in Gryffindor for sure, whereas i am not sure about he. he'd be more interested in the colors than the house - but Gryffindor all the same [because the first thing i ever gave him would match]).<br />
<br />
i think of you two a lot. i try to stop thinking that i have a top five, but i do - and you two are fixed. a permanent feature of my soul. the feature(s) that makes me smile from ear to ear (and year to year) - because the best of my memories include you and even in the worst you two are the parts that make me laugh at my own absurdities (which we all know that i am abundant in). <br />
<br />
in five weeks i am getting on a plane taking me further from both of you, and a part of me is dying wondering why that flight is not going towards you - and then i hear your hearts speak: "chase your dream, we'll always be here..." and i know/trust you know that at a moment's notice i'd be there with you, and i will be (soon). <br />
<br />
no amount of poetry will bring us closer, all the blank spaces in-between the letters and words are ours and their meanings our space to travel back and forth to each other. and the salty beach skins, and midnight talks and walks and tears and breakups and ashes and jars full of butts and falling asleep feeling safe... we have to do that again - soon. replaced now with laughter, and seeing how long it will take before she tells us to shut up (but really her way of saying "i love you two f!-ups"), and how long before he finds a piano or before i find book/dvd to dive into (may i suggest 'pitch perfect'?), and the sweet scent of vanilla tea... and <i>we are not most ppl</i>.<br />
<br />
for that i am grateful.<br />
for you (two) i am grateful.<br />
for that, this last week becomes the past.<br />
<br />
(also - that mixcd, it came out pretty cool i think. hope you like it...)<br />
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<br /></div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-90961309380901702572013-07-13T21:49:00.001-07:002013-07-14T20:24:15.558-07:0007.13.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Me: ...and i'm just saying that i better get an invite for your wedding/baby shower/everything...</i><br />
<i>Me: yep - i've decided that we're that close</i><br />
<i>You: LOL! At the rate we are going - you would be at my funeral too! :-)</i><br />
<br />
you haven't received my letter, yet. you don't know what it is about, yet. you don't really know how i feel about life and death, yet - but this all came up today.<br />
<br />
i've been thinking a lot about him this week ('dus). feel almost immobile by it - not because of him, but because it makes me wonder what i have at my disposal: life. it makes me so grateful for all that is in front of me: love. makes me hopeful and want to work harder. fuck trying - do more, be more, love more, give more... and expect less.<br />
<br />
i wanted to tell you in my own way that i love you, so ...<br />
<br />
<i>Me: um - or be waiting for you on the otherside</i><br />
<br />
<i> i believe in the possibility of forever</i></div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-45445358465182053992013-07-08T23:59:00.003-07:002013-07-08T23:59:27.094-07:0007.08.13 (refection on marilyn)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">“I’ve never </span>fooled<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"> anyone. I’ve let people fool themselves. They didn’t bother to find out who and what I was. Instead they would invent a character for me. I wouldn’t argue with them. They were obviously loving somebody I wasn’t.” </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">Marilyn Monroe</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">there are times when i feel as though we were/are friends... as though the quotes attributed to you are the echoes of a conversation past and i was in the room as you said it. maybe we were friends, maybe we are. i can't possibly understand what it was like to be you, to know you or be your friend. where-ever you are, i do think about you and thank you. (did any one ever just thank <b><i>you</i></b>?)</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXP8l7JLHU12B1q94EPcRvgFUeZZGMxY1ahzGBwwIPDmnV2ijYREvfoh6uNlJlzSbPKGQ4Dl2o0Gxo9RZH-Px0o7RUrrnW-2P10LeCEYjBQX9en93lTZQ3qnCQEJc4aNZp3XTat1DXgdp0/s1600/monroe5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXP8l7JLHU12B1q94EPcRvgFUeZZGMxY1ahzGBwwIPDmnV2ijYREvfoh6uNlJlzSbPKGQ4Dl2o0Gxo9RZH-Px0o7RUrrnW-2P10LeCEYjBQX9en93lTZQ3qnCQEJc4aNZp3XTat1DXgdp0/s320/monroe5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> </span></span></div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-24413407755059133732013-07-07T22:38:00.002-07:002013-07-07T23:48:01.954-07:0007.07.13 (a retrospect)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span style="color: blue;">You are tired,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: blue;">(I think)<br />Of the always puzzle of living and doing;<br />And so am I.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: blue;">Come with me, then,<br />And we'll leave it far and far away—<br />(Only you and I, understand!)</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: blue;">You have played,<br />(I think)<br />And broke the toys you were fondest of,<br />And are a little tired now;<br />Tired of things that break, and—<br />Just tired.<br />So am I.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: blue;">But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,<br />And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—<br />Open to me!<br />For I will show you the places Nobody knows,<br />And, if you like,<br />The perfect places of Sleep.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: blue;">Ah, come with me!<br />I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,<br />That floats forever and a day;<br />I'll sing you the jacinth song<br />Of the probable stars;<br />I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,<br />Until I find the Only Flower,<br />Which shall keep (I think) your little heart<br />While the moon comes out of the sea.</span></i></div>
<div style="background-color: #f4f8f8; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">e.e. cummings</span></i></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">i'm not all too certain if you and i are the only two with an escape plan; though i do believe we have it for the same reason that [they] do not understand ours. you used to say: <b><i>montana. i'm moving to montana to become a gas attendant. you can become a waitress and i'll read hemingway while you read kerouac.</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">we always talk about that escape plan - don't we?, but it's never together (you and me). so seldom do we (the independent you and the independent me) do anything with other people and feel as though we are with them. most of the time we feel alone. our own solitary confinement i suppose (who needs a prison when you already have one). i'd say let's try something together - but the idea of you saying "no" is enough for me to not ask and find joy in knowing you exist.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">i've found my peace, my happiness. a sort of contentment with the universe. (you want to mess with me, cool. but, know this: i will fight back with a fierce force that only God provides those who want to love... and i want to love.) </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">so.... i will find that flower (for you), and will always pray for both our hearts to be happy - in the ways that only they may be.</span></span></div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-56985445281507435942013-07-05T22:19:00.000-07:002013-07-05T22:19:27.037-07:0007.05.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth.” </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2980674.Jess_C_Scott" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">Jess C. Scott</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/13855513" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">The Intern</a></i><br />
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There is an echo in your voice I can not reach. I see you, I know you, but there is a space between that -no matter how strong my faith- I fear you do not wish me to cover. So, I will wait. Patiently wait. And even if never is as close to you as I get, I will still hold to faith and hope - because this is what we do for love. We survive. We build. We hope and we forgive. We wait and in waiting serve the world around us... because love requires actions and not words. Words are lovely - like the petting of hair or a soft blink - but what LOVE requires is fierce devotion. The bold hug that hearts beat through skin, the breath lost with a simple hand hold, the knowing sacrifice of time and energy and no thought other than: can I do more for <i>you</i>. <br />
<br />
The way you say my name sounds different... and from the moment I met you I knew: we are eternal.</div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-15856396306219020352013-06-29T12:31:00.003-07:002013-06-29T12:31:32.817-07:0006.29.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="bqQuoteLink" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 26px;">Like everybody who is not in love, he thought one chose the person to be loved after endless deliberations and on the basis of particular qualities or advantages.</span><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;" /><span class="bodybold" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 20px;">Marcel Proust</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">I often wonder who the Sun would be if it were a person - could it be a person? Would we, could we, appreciate it, understand it? or the Moon?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Also, I wonder about people and how they love and how that is as much a mystery to me as is gravity (it's still a theory after all, and the proofs relative). Like the formula for light and he could so easily read, and for me it is another language, but I don't care because the language I want to speak is that of love (more than French or Latin). There is no thought in it [love] - it is a divine knowing, and I want to <b><i>know</i></b> it. I don't want to know that it is "right" for me, or if it "whole" or "pure" or whatever else the world has decided fits into a criterion of some rules... rules... and then more rules. I want to clear myself to the point of being about to see with a vision not of my own but divine (and yes, with my own eyes -- i know... it sounds like a contradiction, but its not. not really). I want to see him, and him see me and we just know that together the world will be brighter, and that together we will build a home that all are welcome into, and that together we will be better singles and that together we will be a better one...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">i want to sit across for you, with you open and unveiled. i want you to be able to hear me when i say: love. only love. I want to watch you melt into the everything you are, and then become one with the sun and then moon, illuminating the world and reflecting in my eyes the truth I have always known and the mystery I can never understand: love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">only love.</span><br />
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Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-38283810632581320842013-06-27T20:58:00.001-07:002013-06-28T00:44:48.900-07:0006.27.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><span class="bqQuoteLink" style="line-height: 26px;">Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better take things as they come along with patience and equanimity.</span><br style="line-height: 20px;" /><span class="bodybold" style="line-height: 20px;">Carl Jung</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"> </span></b></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">I could pretend that my life is super great and perfect - but, I would be pretending. My life is... complex (so many details that are not clear to me) and simple (not easy, but simple). It is also my life. I own it. Even though sometimes I feel as though my heart has lept out of my chest and I am alone wandering for it...my own version of Layli and Majnun - in search of a deeper faith than already exists, one that burns me away (maybe that is why I have such a love and appreciation for moths).</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">My life is happy. I am happy. It is a deep flowing river that saves me and washes me, and at times drowns the parts of me that need to be washed away...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">(Paraphrased)</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">Her: You are not dark.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">Me: No, I know. But, I am attracted to it... like I can't fully let go of the parts of me that are.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">Her: You are not dark... you <b><i>are not</i></b> dark.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">Me: Maybe. But, then, why him? Why did I love him, and then ...</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">Her: You are growing and before it got too dangerous, you let him go. You let it go because you saw it, and it didn't consume you. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">(I see it in her eyes... a profound personal and universal love, affection and stunning care. I can't say that this is why I love her...I don't think I have a choice in the matter anymore. She is family (above and beyond the meaning of family), she is friend (among the truest I have ever witnessed), she is a breath when I haven't breathed, she knows why my hand goes to my chest for affirmation (I never had to tell her why - she <i>knows</i>), she is some one I would (without thought) dive into hell for to save (not that I would need to).</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">Me: Yeah, maybe.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">Her: You're stronger than you think.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">Me: Only because I have to be.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: blue;">Her: This time it was for you. That means more than you know.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Patience and equanimity... yes. I want that. I want many things, but let's start with that, now.</span><br />
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Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-47904797028762597242013-06-26T00:09:00.000-07:002013-06-26T00:09:24.906-07:0006.26.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.796875px;">"nothing i want to say has words in it</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.796875px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.796875px;">but we're back here again anyway. the habit of things.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.796875px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.796875px;">gravity. addiction." </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.796875px;"><a href="http://byspeakingflower.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">~him</a></span><br />
<br />
a short letter (that i'll never send):<br />
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we have a way with words, don't we? some(most)times i pretend i don't know much, but somehow i end up writing the contracts and the policies and the.... but that's not the kind of writing we like, is it? we? oh - i'm not third personing it. i am thinking about us - remember? you and me and whomever we chose to include. a whim? no, it was more than that. they never really spent the time to know you - see past your charm. i never saw it (the charm i mean). and you never cared that i was always angry... maybe you liked that?<br />
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i'm breaking the habit. she said she saw it in me, tonight. that made me feel like i was flying... we talked about you for a minute. she misses you, but not more that us (me and the other her). you'll come visit soon. i know you will. you'll make everyone laugh with your wit and charm, and when you are tired you'll call me and we'll sit on the hard wood floors of some room in some house (maybe hers, because she likes us.) and we will drink tea and sit quietly - like we do. and she'll sit there too, quietly, taking us in. and we'll crack a joke and she'll laugh. and we'll feel like the children we never really were, or maybe the ones we want... and the stillness will be what saves us. that effortless joy that comes with just a cup of tea and quiet and hope that tomorrow's sun with burn away yesterday's dark. <br />
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you have a way with words, don't you? a part of me thinks that <i><b>this</b></i> works because i can keep up without caring so much; and because i care so much - enough to stay still (for you). </div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5513022360841792735.post-64868353921137832702013-06-19T12:14:00.001-07:002013-06-28T00:51:40.651-07:0006.19.13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mWRsgZuwf_8" width="560"></iframe><br />
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there was a dream i had, years and years ago, that became a memory. it has been one of the most visceral experiences of my life. using words i know: i was in a city familiar to me (but not real) and i know/knew the some of the people. refined, intelligent, loving and beautiful people. the colors were bright and vivid, i could smell sweet flowers and breads and life. i could smell the life, and then the fear. a great fear started to sweep over the people, and they were running inside and locking their doors and i kept asking: "what is happening?" no one really answered me, other than the echo of "the beast is coming" <br />
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i became frightened as well, but i can't tell you if it was my own fear or the acceptance of theirs. but i decided that i wanted to see what they were all so afraid of. the brightness went away, the sweet smells went away, and replaced by nothing. there were shadows with no true light, and that is when i saw it. a massive shadowy beast. i didn't run, i walked towards it. locked eyes with it. and we spoke without words; and, i walked close enough to pet it (touch its face). it was rough and soft and coarse and smooth. in words that i don't know if i can really translate, i told it: you are beautiful / you are not the ugly one. it heard me. it bowed in response. i told it: "let's go home." the road we were on presented a door (more like a wooden gate) and with a touch i opened it. before us opened a beautiful valley. something so honest, i knew this was our way home. <br />
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i turned to the beast and told it: "we don't belong here. let's go." (i can not explain the sense of peace and simultaneous longing i felt in that moment, i was leaving a place i had known with a beast that everyone feared - but i was happy and i trusted). when we passed through the gate - the world behind us disappeared and the beast's behavior turned into what i may describe as a puppy - pure unconditional love.<br />
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i suppose that's what it all is about: pure unconditional love.... </div>
Capone:http://www.blogger.com/profile/04430127398093671863noreply@blogger.com1