ambiguity

Somebody sent me that youtube video of 'My American Prayer'... An artist collaboration to support Obama's march to the White House.

Something weird happened. I watched it in ambiguity, critically analyzing the artistic and personal choices presented in the video, the choice of medium to get a message across and which message exactly?
As I watched I suddenly realized how certain passages - pictures and music - triggered goose bumps ... first on my upper arms, later the whole body.

Isn't that strange? I was absolutely critical and in the same time my body reacted to the video in a very moved and touched way. Innermost.
Now, isn't that quite something.

first day of my life

What a feeling. What a effing feeling.

This is the first day of my life
I swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach

Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don’t know where I am
I don’t know where I’ve been
But I know where I want to go

And so I thought I’d let you know
That these things take forever
I especially am slow
But I realize that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange you said everything changed
You felt as if you'd just woke up
And you said “this is the first day of my life
I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you
But now I don’t care I could go anywhere with you
And I’d probably be happy”

So if you want to be with me
With these things there’s no telling
We just have to wait and see
But I’d rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery
Besides maybe this time is different
I mean I really think you like me

read, if you like

read, if you like, at the dark side of the moon...

You don't wanna know anything about how much I truly love you. You don't want to know, how my heart opens up when I gaze into a prayer candle, feeling how my heart lifts you up, way up, high, into the sky and maybe the heavens, with just unconditional warmth and love and comfort and support.
in the mornings it was the best time we had, before my mind could mess it all up, before my good morning smile was washed away by everyday bits of insanity that took a hold of us.
i still remember this and i can't let go of it, when i listen to Otis Redding, when I listen to Dylan, to Cash, to all the music that you shared with me.
And yet, when it's all gone, even then, even then, when I realize that I don't love you like that anymore, I still feel the unconditional warmth and love lift you up in my heart when I found peace of mind, gazing into the sky, the stars, the candle light.

I am not allowed to tell you all about it, because it might do you harm.
it might create ties where we have to be free from each other but oh i hope that whatever is good about this love
that it will reach you, that it will echo in your heart.
because I feel it so real. I hope it will reach you one day.
I hope it will lift you up one day.
I hope you can lift up one day.
One bright sunshiny day
bright, bright sunshiny day

jayjay

remember how you said, how you felt, how you adored me, you asked if i know what that means, that it is like with a baby that you wanna eat it, so much you like it. and then, when you were alone in a room, or with people, it didn't matter, because you knew and felt our love, so real.
And maybe

maybe
it doesn't matter, when there are other songs that are sung
maybe it really doesn't do any harm
maybe we knew it all along.
oh how i long
just to sing our song
one, one, one
one time
one

caught like in a spiderweb

when you see the structures
when you see it flow
you remember the future
remember how it was all the same
and we just a pawn in the game

flowers in December
and i been taking it all for granted
she sings

the snake bites her own tale
if it was the same situation
i must go
if it was the same situation
i gotta go

then there is the end
chess to the chest
the king must die
the queen's been gone
only small people can save us now

as soon as it dawns
I must saddle, pack, see
what is right for me
not what I should be
to save the king his last game
but
what is right for me
and
which side I am on

Magnolia

Magnolia by J. J. Cale
And it is pouring down, the rolling soft green of the hills.
I carry the palmtrees in my heart. The brown mountains, Santa Monica, St. Gabriel, the back alleys, so soft and dusty, the long roads.
A whole future opens up in front of me. So glad to have lived all that I have lived. So thankful for all that beauty, for all that grace.
The love, ah, that love.
The friends, ah, those friends.
The music, ah, that music.
Dancing inside of me, dancing in my dreams.
There is so much beauty, everywhere.

Sometimes I think of it and my heart starts hurting. The wound, so real, so palpable inside. Then I breathe in and bare it, bare the pain, the fact, the hurt.
It makes me strong and it makes me soft in the same time. After the bitterness of a hard night full of confusing and painful dreams I awake and all I find is love.
Love, love, love.
It sounds so cliche and yet it is true. True that the postcard citch of sunsets is still just a copy of the original true beauty that really is out there every night.
Love, it is true. That I am so glad, that we've met. That it is okay. Even if I find a new way. Even if there is never a new now for us. Even if I have to take the high road and you take the low road.
It doesn't matter.
I find myself in a tower, full of secrets that I even won't whisper but order to silence.
It makes it even more beautiful. Even more real. Even stronger than before.

i knew

it's not like I didn't know.
I always did.
Cherry Blossom Girl.
I thought Marie sang that song at a little concert where they held usually the LPW's right at Hollywood Blvd.
And my heart was heavy and my heart was light.
Tell me, what else could it be?
I don't know anything of this world. I've tried to understand but I can't grasp too much, I know so little.
I don't even understand this little world of my own. The cigarette part. That we smoked and pissed on everything that once felt so precious to us. The fucking care.
How should I get soft with that inside of me? There is a fucking burning coal tossing my soul back and forth. Good days are days when I forget.
Sometimes I have to kill something inside. Then I have to forget other things. Like her boyfriend who has cancer. That smoke causes cancer. That I could.

Only narrow splits of seconds those. I understand the love of music. The details. I wonder what of what I tried stayed with me. Only to God I can pray. Hoping it is all okay. Knowing how much worse it could be. Not knowing anything and nothing at all.

but this
I always knew.
Cherry blossom girl.
I knew

somehow glowing

I feel how it burns inside of me, it's a slow, glowing burn.
When I see her like this, at the height of her performance I want to cry. Afterwards I get up and restlessly walk around, climb up on a rooftop, gaze into the night, smoke a cigarette maybe or maybe I just sigh.
I feel the burn then, hot and smooth. Waiting for me to come. Waiting for me to find it. To find out what it is. What the fuck it is.
The love, the struggle. The music. The visuals. The story. The magic. The moving of my soul, fluttering like helpless winglike sheets in the wind.
Ah, see, words can't be it. I play with you, I caress you, I dance with you. But my whales go somewhere else. They are tearing me apart at times but still, after all, I feel a sense of where they are going. Down, south, somehow.

Ah, when I think of her. Of her brown eyes and the quiet smile. It's heart wrenching. She, too, plays the piano and the minutes open their wings in the minute she touches the keys. They open my windows they open my soul. Then she cooks something from the middle east and shows me what she learned in her Farsi class just now. Oh, when she is. With me. Is it a mere mirage, a dream so close that I can feel its breath stroke my tongue? Ah, so thirsty. So thirsty I am. Love is glowing. Love is glowing there. I might go and follow my whales. I might go and live with her. I might go and study. I might change direction midfall. Oh. You.

venus

The difference is, where I come from the paradox isn't only an annoying thing to be put up with in life but completely well understood and possible.
Venus has no problems with that.
See, the head is round so that thoughts can change direction.
For me, to say 'oh my God, it hurts so deep and so hard' includes the paradox of the seed. To say that and then cut it all off, on the other hand, is too linear for me to comprehend. And I know you all want to see me burn in hell by now for even muttering one word concerning this whole story. But, the thing is, it's not just a damn story. Okay? It is more than one layer.
It's the paradox

'it's cool, we can still be friends'

I am not your babe anymore I say sharply, still sharp, even though I had to say it more than once. More than many times. In many conversations. And then he'd write me a letter which said in the end 'and even if you say you're not my babe anymore, for me you'll always be babe and one day I'll get you back somehow'.
Oh, how I longed for that. To know that words would be vessels filled with movement. Action! With deeds, with walks, not beaten up, smack, to the ground, trampled on to be pointed at later in a lame ass excuse 'but it shattered! all into thousands of pieces'...
What to do, huh. What to do.
But oh yes, what to do, when these vessels really wouldn't have done anyone good, huh? Well, consider that too then.
Yes, but, look, don't you know how much I'd give to just have taken advantage of those moments, those words, and jump back on the track I cut, just to taste the forbidden fruits of futile love one more time...

It's moments like this that make me listen to songs such as 'it's cool, ca can still be friends' by bright eyes, but just because I can't stand the majority of my playlist anymore. All burdened down with you, pirate prince.
Didn't know how to fight a fucking battle straight. Oh well.
What to do, huh. What to do. When someone walks with crutches. Can't really get mad at not fighting straight then, can you.
Fucking fuck fcuk/;/,.

the good life

It's so wonderful to see them so healthy.
She is wearing a beautiful green big dress kind of shirt and orange cotton pants over pretty indian sandals. He has a seven day beard and wears simple beige clothes, they are both glowing and so is the golden ring on their ringfinger.
And look, there is my other friend from way back, with a baby, and her man still at her side, so strong and handsome. I see more and more, my dear dear friends and all seem so well.
It was L's 25th birthday get together and it's just amazing to see how everybody evolved....over the years. Gosh, yeah, I was gone for a while.

And as I sit, enjoy, observe, converse I feel this little longing inside, ay ay ay wouldn't it be nice to be taken care of like that?!
Ah, it would.

But upon my return home I realize that for nothing in the world would I trade in my wild life for anyone or anything.

Maktub!