Make the burning stop.....

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Clinging to the rocks

Letting go has never been my strong suit.

Ive always said tenacity is my blessing and my curse.

When I walked out of my apartment on Saturday, September 17th for the last time, I wasn't sad at all. That's never happened to me. Every time I've left a place I called home I always had some sort of sadness.

There was the extreme example: when I left the house I grew up in and continued to break in and sing drunken dirges at the top of my lungs at 2am. Then there was the apartment I shared with my brother – I wasn’t physically attached to it but I loved living with Mattie. I was stupidly nostalgic when I left the little apartment on Center Street that Kelson and I called home. There were even tears when I left my aunt and uncle’s apartment after a year in Hell’s Kitchen.

So I was surprised when, after 3 years, I stood in the room where I've slept away my sadness, drank and laughed with Kelson and dreamt of creating a life with Stephen and didn't shed a tear.

The point is if I’m learning how to let go of a space, maybe I’ll get better at learning to let go of a lover too. Maybe I don’t have to be sad, angry and overanalytical when things end and just accept them as they are.

And if that works then I may even be able to let go of my expectations and really just experience each moment again.

Friday, September 23, 2005

ghosts exist in the past...

there's a letter on the desktop that i dug out of a drawer the last truce we ever came to from our adolescent war and i start to feel a fever from the warm air through the screen you come regular like seasons
shadowing my dreams

and the mississippi's mighty but it starts in Minnesota at a place where you could walk across with five steps down and i guess that's how you started like a pinprick to my heart but at this point you rush right through me and i start to drown

and there's not enough room in this world for my pain signals cross and love gets lost and time passed makes it plain of all my demon spirits i need you the most i'm in love with your ghost i'm in love with your ghost

dark and dangerous like a secret that gets whispered in a hush (don't tell a soul) when i wake the things i dreamt about you last night make me blush (don't tell a soul) when you kiss me like a lover then you sting me like a viper i go follow to the river play your memory like the piper

and i feel it like a sickness how this love is killing me but i'd walk into the fingers of your fire willingly and dance the edge of sanity i've never been this close in love with your ghost ooooh…

unknowing captor you'll never know how much you pierce my spirit but i can't touch you can you hear it a cry to be free or i'm forever under lock and key as you pass through me

now i see your face before me i would launch a thousand ships to bring your heart back to my island as the sand beneath me slips as i burn up in your presence and i know now how it feels to be weakened like Achilles with you always at my heels

and my bitter pill to swallow is the silence that i keep that poisons me i can't swim free the river is too deep though i'm baptized by your touch i am no worse at most in love with your ghost

indigo girls. rites of passage

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Buffalo, NY

They say you can never go home and everytime I do, that becomes a little bit more painfully true. I suppose I should look up the owner of the quote but I feel so sad that my inherent laziness is compounded.

It isn't that I really expected everything to stand still. Certainly my friends and family say not much has changed when I ask what's new or how they've been. It's more that the landscape has changed so much and it was the only thing in the recent past that has been of any comfort.

I want Buffalo to grow and thrive and change. But there's a part of me that feels saddened when I return to find another unexpected something has popped up in place of whatever I knew it to be before. I half feel left out and half nostalgically optimistic that if I came back now, I could make a different kind of life here than the one I left behind.

But I was dying here and it's still a place of great sadness to me.

Up until June 1st, I came to Buffalo every six weeks to visit my mother in the nursing home where she lives. She has early onset Alzheimer's Disease and has been in a home for almost six years. I've made the 425 mile trek on Friday nights after work, arriving at 3am only to get up and spend a rapid, exhausting and emotionally draining Saturday into Sunday afternoon when I get back into my car and drive back to New York.

After the first few years it grew harder and harder for me to muster up any excitement for the trip, but I went - like clockwork. And I criec the whole way home and usually wound up really depressed for the following week. Now I find myself making excuses and looking for reasons not to go.

It's insanly painful to see what has become of my mother. She wasn't perfect by any means but she raised 4 children on her own and remained incredibly strong and surprisingly resilient. The older I get the more I miss talking to her.

I'm still searching for my own home I suppose and until I find it or create it, I think this emptiness will always be there.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Flying North with Fiona

This morning I woke up next to a beautiful man.

I also got in my car and drove 425 miles Northwest.