One sensation. Walking down my stairs towards my car. I can't shake the dream I had last night. I had a dog with very short hair, and he had a skin condition so I had to apply lotion to him. I dreamt I was in love and had been for a very long time. Not with the dog, but with a woman whose mere glance at me would carry the weight of all the stories she longed to tell me and all the stories she longed to have with me.
But that was last night, and now I'm walking in reality. Sometimes it takes a particularly strong stream of dreams to make your waking life seem that much less real. I felt so disconnected. The world is beautiful and that never changes. My capacity to be a witness to it is really the task at hand. Part of this world is my dreams. Part of it is my fears. Part of it is my failures and complexities and banalities. Everything I am was and will be is the world, for my witnessing of it.
It is about 50-50 for the brain-drain beat down to euphoric grace and self forgiveness. I will always be my own worst enemy and my own best supporter. Maybe I'm looking for some dissonance to upset the scales, to break open a window for opportunity. Its easier to change things while you are rebuilding them.
Sometimes any action is a positive action. No matter which way you move, it is forward. The gain you get from change isn't the change itself, but your increased willingness to experience it.
The picture above is of me circa 1994. I was 20ish. I really have to look hard at this photo to realize that I don't look like that anymore. That I'm not him anymore. I try not to get lost in nostalgia, but it is not really possible to avoid something that has this much weight in me. Its not neccissarily a bad sensation. I don't feel particularly lost or aged, but I do feel like someone I knew has moved very far away for a long long time.
I painted faces with you. You listened to the best music. You are beautiful. We were 'too much' alike. I think about you every day.
But that was last night, and now I'm walking in reality. Sometimes it takes a particularly strong stream of dreams to make your waking life seem that much less real. I felt so disconnected. The world is beautiful and that never changes. My capacity to be a witness to it is really the task at hand. Part of this world is my dreams. Part of it is my fears. Part of it is my failures and complexities and banalities. Everything I am was and will be is the world, for my witnessing of it.
It is about 50-50 for the brain-drain beat down to euphoric grace and self forgiveness. I will always be my own worst enemy and my own best supporter. Maybe I'm looking for some dissonance to upset the scales, to break open a window for opportunity. Its easier to change things while you are rebuilding them.
Sometimes any action is a positive action. No matter which way you move, it is forward. The gain you get from change isn't the change itself, but your increased willingness to experience it.
The picture above is of me circa 1994. I was 20ish. I really have to look hard at this photo to realize that I don't look like that anymore. That I'm not him anymore. I try not to get lost in nostalgia, but it is not really possible to avoid something that has this much weight in me. Its not neccissarily a bad sensation. I don't feel particularly lost or aged, but I do feel like someone I knew has moved very far away for a long long time.
I painted faces with you. You listened to the best music. You are beautiful. We were 'too much' alike. I think about you every day.
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also, what FRED said.
edited to add ...
you look good with long hair!
[Edited on May 25, 2006 2:39PM]