Signal Fire

Midsummer woes, and the shivering wind

Show me what's new, and where it begins

Liven me up, come read me the signs

Across the latitude, should you tell me what's mine

Save me a glimpse, a frugal escapade

Hallelujah to sweet love, and the mess we made

Now just lift me up, to spin me around

Then stay and watch, as I burn life down

In Lackluster

I'm tired and I don't know what's draining me.

You know that overbearing phrase, 'being alone in a crowd'. That phrase you hear in the most cheesy songs and movies, the one you scorn off as 'said too much' or even 'overrated'?

I felt that today.

Somewhere in between when they switched seats and made their cautionary announcements. It came without a hint. But it did when I felt myself grappling for air. I must have looked calm, very calm. I gazed up, drew in a painfully sharp breath, and held it there. Random images from everywhere; MRI scans, imposing books stacked in the library, the cheesecake neighbor who never wanted a marriage, a prolonged sickness, city lights from the sky, silver coins, the four street kids entwined in a strange city, the cold spellbinding vista, the blue house, Zozie de l'Alba, staircase classrooms, the washing machine fight, cockroach operations, her ever-so-credulous face, unkempt fairy-lit shacks, national highways, the waterfall from nowhere...

I exhaled just as suddenly, back to feeling nothing.

'Turning the sign around

We're closed to the earth 'til further notice'

- Wait It Out, Imogen Heap

Urzu Durkut

For future reference, this getting frisky business doesn't last very long. So the next time you do feel that good frisky, try not to get too carried away. More often than not, something will snap you out of your 'friskiness'.

Yes, today isn't one of my brighter days.

I push away the good things, I do. A lot of my life would be different and possibly nicer, if I didn't go out of my way, making that effort to change things (more like, screw them over repeatedly). I dislike, disapprove and disillusion a little too much. Nothing is ever good enough. Ever. No, it's not greed, just miserably high standards and as much as I hate to admit it, self imposed expectations. And then the endless search for something new and scintillating, all the time. Nothing holds my interest and goodwill long enough. So here I am again, craving that something or someone would.

Why this wallowing, you ask? It isn't.

Call it my way of ruminating the life I live, my way of coming up with convictions as to why these seemingly terrible things I do, are actually what I like about my days.

I like to push away the good things to find out what it means for them to be good. I like to go out of my way to change things, to see where that change takes me. Too much of the dislike, disapproval and disillusion? I feverishly look forward to what the sieving left behind, to the fostering it claims.

The 'not good enough' keeps me scouring my days for things I don't know of, things they don't yet speak of. And it wouldn't be an endless search if it weren't for the endless possibilities. New, scintillating, endless possibilities.

Trace The Silence

'What part of our history's reinvented and under rug swept?
What part of your memory is selective and tends to forget?
What with this distance it seems so obvious?'

- Hands Clean, Alanis Morrisette

So I've been feeling particularly frisky these days. A good kind of frisky. You know the kind that makes you feel a little new, a little scared and a little hopeful, all at once? Going back has become rediscovering and the days turned a little sprightly. I keep to myself and I do things that make me truly happy. Basking in solitude? Maybe.